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‘Sunday.’
Jasper catches my eyes and holds my gaze.
‘Do you have feelings for him?’
‘I think so.’
Jasper stands silently and starts getting dressed.
‘I’m sorry, Jasper.’
‘Get dressed, Aari. I need to take you back home.’
‘Can I just stay for a little bit?’
‘No. I’m sorry. I’d love for you to stay but, if you think you have feelings for Caleb, it means you don’t belong to me any more. There are some clothes in your cupboard. I couldn’t help buying you stuff that I thought you might like. I’ll drive you back.’
‘What if I don’t know what I want?’
‘I love you, Aari, and I’ll always be here if you need me, but sharing you will drive me mad.’ He crosses the room, kisses my forehead and strokes my cheek, before looking away.
‘Get dressed, Scraps, okay?’
I feel my heart break. ‘I can’t believe we’re here,’ I say, starting to cry.
‘I can, and we’re here because of me. I was so busy chasing a life I told myself we wanted that I completely forgot to be present. I wish I’d taken the time to be with you when I had you. I failed us.’
With that, Jasper leaves the room. I walk into the wardrobe and find some underwear, socks, jeans and a shirt. I feel so drained, I dress slowly. When I emerge, Jasper is dressed and sitting on the bed, car keys in hand and with his shoes on. He smiles through tear-filled eyes.
‘Come on.’
Jasper drives sensibly through late-night London. I sit quietly with his hand over mine, fingers interlaced, shifting gears through the quiet streets. We get to Hampstead too quickly.
‘I can’t believe this is it.’ I choke up.
‘Don’t be mistaken, Aari. This isn’t it. I want him to rip your heart to pieces so that I can put you back together again, because I’ll be waiting. I’ll always be waiting. I won’t ever stop waiting for you.’
THIRTY-FOUR
CALEB
I watched planes take off and land, chasing one Guatemalan rum with another, for the five hours it took for my flight to be called.
By boarding time, I was so drunk my ability to fly was questioned. I managed to successfully talk myself on by promising to be a good boy, and woke up when the wheels hit the tarmac at Heathrow. I navigated the arrivals process in a haze, and found my driver while carrying the world’s loudest drummer going at full speed in my head. I switched on my phone and cleared all the call and text notifications from Mel.
I get home to find Ariella, buried in her duvet, asleep on the couch surrounded by that morning’s newspapers, a mug of tea, half a packet of biscuits and all our remote controls. She looks so peaceful, revulsion at myself resurfaces. We have taken a while to get here but, now that it seems like we’ve made it, the first thing I do is mess it up.
I retreat quietly into my room and jump in the shower. It feels empty without her, but I accidentally wash my hair with her shampoo, which makes me chuckle, immediately making me feel that we’ll be okay. I have to tell her about Singapore. She’ll understand. If she doesn’t, I’ll make her. I return to the kitchen and pop the kettle on and my phone starts to vibrate, causing her to stir. I decline the call.
‘Hi.’ Her sleepy voice is hoarse.
‘Hey.’ I stop myself from rushing to her side. ‘You look like you had a rough night.’
‘I feel like it. How was Singapore?’
‘Okay.’ I swallow hard. Fuck. I can’t. ‘Anything been going on round here?’
She looks at me with furrowed brows. She knows.
