Megan bumped her shoulder gently into mine. ‘You’ll miss all the good stuff when you spend your life avoiding the bad.’
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes before I could stop them.
She pushed the Maltesers nearer. ‘Here. Sugar solves at least half of all emotional breakdowns. And if it doesn’t work, we’ll try tea. And if that doesn't work, we’ll move on to the wine.’
I laughed through my tears.
‘Tell me what he’s really like,’ she said. ‘Not the boring stuff. The bits you remember when you close your eyes.’
And just like that, the words came easier.
‘He’s warm,’ I said. ‘Like you. And he holds me like he's afraid I might vanish if he lets go even for a second. He’s got this sleepy morning hair that makes him look like a corrupted angel, and when he smiles, it makes my insides turn to jelly.’
‘You know, for someone who claims not to do romance, you really sound like someone falling in love.’
I groaned and covered my face with both hands.
‘What else do you think about when you close your eyes,’ Meg asked.
‘Nothing that it’s decent to relay to my little sister.’
She rolled onto her side, eyes like saucers. ‘Well, not I’m getting the wine, and I need you to spill the juicy stuff.’
I laughed and felt a thousand times lighter already.
thirty-two
AMANDA
Two days passed,and every hour seemed to stretch full of too much space and not enough air. I kept pretending to Megan that I was fine, and absolutely not checking my phone every fifteen minutes, but she wasn’t fooled. She kept handing me cups of tea like I was a dried-out houseplant. Who drank tea.
By the second evening, I gave up my resolve and picked up my phone.
I sat on the edge of my bed with my heart hammering in my chest. I stared at the blank message field for longer than I’d meant to, my most recent tea growing cold enough to gain a film.
Hey.
Would it be all right if I came down to visit for a couple of days?
I know I was a bit vague before, but I’d like to try.
With you.
If you still want to.
The moment I hit send, sweat swept over my neck. I flopped onto my back, arms flung dramatically outwards like I was fifteen, not nearly double that. I felt as nervous as a teenager texting a boy for the first time.
My phone buzzed.
I bolted upright, heart in my throat.
No.
Just that sole devastating word.
Cold.
Blunt.
