I went straight upstairs and threw myself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Greg hadn’t lived in this house with me and, most nights over the three months since I’d moved in, I wondered whether I’d made a mistake, leaving the home Greg and I had built together. In the old house, I could conjure him whenever I wanted – the pair of us curled on the sofa watching TV together; the places where we’d had sex when we’d first moved in, not bothering us at all that we had to rough it on the bare floorboards, hardly a stick of furniture in the place; the small box room he’d commandeered as his weights room that always had a slight undertone of sweat; the ridiculous oversized coffee machine that sat on the worktop that we’d always bickered over whose turn it was to clean.
At the time I’d thought it would be easier to live somewhere where the memories didn’t come flooding in at unexpected moments, flooring me with a sucker-punch. But now I wasn’t so sure. My bedroom didn’t hold any memories of Greg. It held nothing but me, and my things, and sometimes, I worried I was forgetting about him.
Tonight, though, it did have an advantage – because when thoughts of Nick buzzed around my head, the way they were doing right now, at least I didn’t feel like I was cheating on Greg.
I turned my head towards the empty space beside me and felt a lurch of sadness.
Was I doing the right thing, meeting Nick again? Should I shut this down before it went any further?
Maybe. The trouble was, I didn’t really want to.
I was equal part nervous and equal part excited about seeing Nick again. There was less doubt this time about whether he’d turn up, but in a way that made it even more nerve-wracking. Because that meant this was something different for both of us.
A step away from our pasts, and towards the possibility of a new future.
It had been a rough couple of days at work and I’d hardly had a moment to breathe. But now, as I walked through the rose garden towards the bandstand, my legs felt shaky and my breath was short in my chest.
What would we talk about today?
Would we arrange a proper date?
Did I want to?
I stepped up into the bandstand. I was a few minutes early and he wasn’t here yet so I took the opportunity to look out into the park and take a few deep, calming breaths. I closed my eyes and let my shoulders drop, my breathing deepen, and my heart rate slow.
‘Hello.’
My eyes snapped open. ‘You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me,’ I said, as Nick sat on the bench beside me. He lay a bag and what looked like a violin case carefully on the ground.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to.’
‘It’s okay. I was just doing some deep breathing.’
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
‘It’s good to see you,’ I said.
‘You too.’
He sounded distant, and I wondered whether he felt as guilty as me about us meeting. I didn’t know how to ask him.
‘How’s your week been?’
He shrugged. ‘Fine.’
‘Are you going to play today?’
‘Sorry?’
I nodded at the case beside him. ‘The violin.’
He stared at it as though surprised to see it there. ‘Right. Maybe in a bit.’
We fell into silence. Had I done something wrong, or upset him somehow? I couldn’t think how. Perhaps we should just call this a day now and?—
‘Sorry, I’m a bit distracted today.’
‘You don’t need to explain anything to me.’
