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“Sorry. You’re right. I’m overbearing and pushy. I pretty much forced Mark to be friends with me, and look where that got us. He didn’t stand a chance.” Deep breath. “Because…”
I was treading on thin ice here. Hugo’s outbursts of honesty were obviously rubbing off on me.
“Because it’s not like I have friends queuing up to hang out with me either. I only have Mark.”
“Mabel loves you.”
I couldn’t look at him. “Mabel is Mark’s friend.” My entire friendship group consisted of Mark, people Mark knew and Mark’s friends. My life had revolved around him for so long that I’d forgotten how to live without him, and I didn’t want to. I needed him in my life, and yes, he had Finn, and I knew I should back off and let them actually be a couple and not have me hanging around like a bad smell. But Hugo was right. The thought of not loving Mark made me physically sick. Was that normal? Perhaps it was just me. Fuck. I had no idea what normal was anymore.
“You’ve drifted off,” he said quietly. He motioned to the tea, trying to reach for it.
“You’ll have to hold it.” My hands were not cooperating with my head, again, but with a bit of help, he took another sip.
“Can I ask you something else?” He’d drained the cup, and now he was leaning back against the pillow, looking a little tired, his bruised face still shockingly pale.
“Yeah.” I wasn’t really listening.
“Why the hell do you want to be friends with me? I mean, I’m not worth it.”
I couldn’t answer that one. I had no idea. He’d turned up on that concierge desk one day, all smiles and snark, driving my waiters crazy. They’d somehow clocked his queerness and buzzed around him like hormonal teenagers. The gossip had been rife. I hadn’t blamed them because I could see his appeal. He was cute. Really cute. Sticky-out ears and wild curls and a laugh that just glimmered through the air. Had I been smitten without realising it?
I wasn’t like everyone else. I didn’t need that. Or want it.
I had what I needed. I was loved. I was appreciated. And when I was falling apart, Mark would hold me and put me back together.
That was when what he’d said sank in.
“Youareworth it. Why would you say that?”
“I’m hard work. And I have so much baggage that just won’t go away. I’m not worth it. It’s better just to—”
“You’re good company. We had dinner the other night…” I was grasping at straws.
“You mean when you tried to force-feed me cheesecake and I yelled at you and ran out?”
“Yeah? See? Entertaining. Where else would I get that?”
“You’re so weird.”
“I know.” I did. And so did he.
Hence, I grabbed my bag and whipped out my laptop and the checklist from the domestic abuse charity. They were all basic things, but I was glad Mabel had taken the time to talk me through the different tasks.
“Here.” I moved the hospital table closer to him. “Laptop. Internet.”
“I am aware of modern technology.”
“List. The first thing you need to do is to cancel all your cards. Change your PINs and passwords to your internet banking.”
“I need my phone for that,” he said weakly.
True.
I sat back, and he actually, surprisingly, picked up the laptop, his eyes shifting as he scanned the words.
“I need a new SIM card.”
Thank God he was with the programme. I fished one out of my bag. Mabel was already on the ball.
