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“Yes. Better still, it means I can pay you back what I owe you for the mortgage.”
“Wow, that’s fantastic news!”
“Isn’t it? Things couldn’t have gone better. It looks like my creative visualisation is finally working. Anyway, enough about me. How are you feeling, my dear? Is your cold any better?”
I rub my nose vigorously. “Um, yeah. Still feeling a bit groggy but I think I’m through the worst of it.” I hesitate. “It’s been a really good day, actually. Nick came around to keep me company.”
“Nick’s at the house? I didn’t know you were planning to see him today.”
I laugh nervously. “Me neither. He decided to surprise me.”
Nick mouths “hello” at me and I pass the salutation to Dad.
“Tell him I said hi,” my father replies. “Right, okay, I’m on my way back now. I should see you both in about an hour.”
“Great.”
He hangs up, and I chew the inside of my cheek.
“What did your dad say?” Nick asks, handing me a fresh wad of Kleenex to blow my nose on.
“He said he’s on his way home.”
“I suppose that means you want me to go?”
“No, darling, of course not. Stay as long as you want.”
Nick nods mutely as he takes the phone from me to put back on the dresser. “What an old brick,” he snickers, fiddling with the keypad. “I really should buy you a new phone. This one’s positively prehistoric.”
“Hey, don’t take the piss. Perhaps I like living in the Stone Age.”
We both laugh but, as he continues scrutinising the phone, I start to get a little apprehensive.
“Can I have my phone back, please?” I try to keep my voice calm. “Don’t you know it’s rude to go through other people’s messages?”
Nick goes quiet, his eyes glued to something on the screen.
Desperately, I reach out and attempt to snatch it from him, but he’s too quick for me. We tussle in a semi-humorous fashion, but I can sense his mood darkening.
“Who the hell is Andrew?” he demands.
Heat colours my cheeks.
“Who’s Andrew?” he repeats, looking at me.
“No one,” I whisper. “He’s no one. Now please, can I have my phone back?”
“Come on, Carly, you’ve got dozens of messages here saying he loves you. Don’t tell me he’s no one.”
“All right, all right! Andrew’s my ex-boyfriend.”
Nick stiffens. The hurts and vulnerability in his face breaks my heart. “He can’t be an ex if he’s still sending you these kinds of messages.”
“Yes,” I say, “but have you checked the date they were sent?”
Quietly, he scrolls through the phone. “Okay, so they’re five years old. But why do you still keep them? Are you in love with him or what?”
“Of course not.”
