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Amy forced a smile and ran upstairs before she blurted out what was on her mind, knowing she had to leave very soon. Peeling off her clothes, which now felt slightly damp, she flicked on the shower and stepped in, making sure the water was tepid rather than too hot. She couldn’t quite believe that her life had got to this stage.
When she’d arrived in Vancouver all those years ago, she never expected to stay for so long. It had been a wonderful second home to her and she had made great friends. Yet once again she was reminded of that feeling of not knowing where home was any more. She felt rudderless and alone.
Perhaps Emma’s forthcoming wedding and the fact her mum wouldn’t be there were the factors. She vigorously rubbed the shampoo into her head and watched the soapy suds cascade down the plughole. She was going to speak to Ross. She’d tell him she couldn’t be here any longer then she’d leave. It wasn’t fair to stay, not now she knew that it wasn’t love she felt for him.She knew this would be the last shower she would have here. It all felt so surreal.
She wrapped herself in a towel and quickly scooped her hair into a turban with a smaller towel. Reaching for her phone she sent a quick message to Josh.
I’m going to tell him.Please can I come and stay? x
He replied almost immediately.Of course. Here for you and we are in all night xx
Amy thought about her mum again. What would she say to Ross? She knew she could ask her sisters, but she didn’t want to burden them with what was essentially her problem. As far as they were concerned, they’d meet Ross at the wedding. The fact she hadn’t even told him about it said enough. She thought of her mum’s motto that all the girls should always enjoy life and live it to its fullest. She wasn’t in the least bit bothered when Amy moved to Canada. Quite the opposite. She was delighted and promised that they would go and visit her especially as it was a place she always wanted to visit. Sadly, she never made it thanks to cancer cutting her life so short.
Amy knew she was lucky to have supportive parents especially when so many of her friends complained that their parents’ guilt-tripped them because they’d moved away for work or just because they wanted to live their own life. She closed her eyes, briefly picturing Mum’s warm smile.You know what to do, my lovely. The answers are all inside you. Just trust your instinct. What does your gut tell you?
Amy opened her eyes, wiped away a tear and smiled sadly at her reflection in the mirror. It was time to be honest and treat Ross with the respect he deserved. Tidying away all her things from the bathroom, she gave it one last cursory glance before looking in the wardrobe and making sure she had packed all of her belongings.
‘I’ve cooked some pasta,’ he said proudly as she walked into the kitchen. He handed her a glass of wine. ‘How was the water? Cold, or okay? Do you feel better for it?’
Amy couldn’t help noticing that he was talking too quickly and asking her an awful lot of questions without giving her the chance to answer. Was he nervous or did he know she was about to say something? ‘Um, it was fine thanks.’ She glanced at the table and noticed the flickering candle. Oh no, what was he planning? He wasn’t the type of guy to prepare candlelit dinners . . .
‘Cheers,’ he said, knocking his glass against hers.
She couldn’t bring herself to take a sip.
‘It’s your favourite.’ He frowned. ‘The Italian one that you love.’
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled. It wasn’t her favourite wine at all. It was his. Her favourite wine was French.
‘Is something wrong?’
This was not good. He was jumpy and kept patting his pocket as though he was worried he had lost something. She put the glass down, noticing that he had changed into one of his better shirts.
‘Amy, I just wanted to say . . .’
She had to do something, say something, and quickly before this all escalated. ‘Can we eat?’ she said, pointing at the Bolognese sauce simmering on the stove. ‘I’m absolutely starving.’ She lied. She was usually ravenous after her swims but tonight her stomach was churning.
‘Okay, I suppose so. If you want to.’ He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the table. ‘Sit down and I’ll bring it over.’
Amy numbly lowered herself into a chair and watched as he drained the spaghetti then arranged it in bowls. He ladled the sauce on top.
‘Voilà!’ he said, and she cringed. It was one of the few things that he said that annoyed her, which made her feel even worse than she already did. Why couldn’t she be more gracious? She wassuchan awful person for thinking badly of him. As he placed the bowl in front her, she tried to look engaged. This wasn’t his fault, it was hers. Entirely hers.
‘Bon appétit.’
Amy forced herself to eat a few mouthfuls if only to provide a base for the wine which she was tempted to start gulping.Breathe, she told herself.Ground yourself, Amy, and just breathe.And do the right thing.
‘So, as I was saying, I’ve got some good news . . .’
She held her breath for a moment then exhaled. ‘Uh-huh?’
‘I’ve managed to get some time off work and thought we could go away.’ He beamed at her. ‘Isn’t that great?’
Blimey, he didn’t hang around, did he? The holiday discussion, if that was what it even was, had only been a couple of hours ago. ‘Um, well, the thing is . . .’ she began, ‘I’m actually going to be going home.’
‘What do you mean?’
She saw the look of confusion flit across his face.
