I shift in my seat. “I can’t believe it … I don’twantto believe it. How could I not see the real him sooner? I feel like I never really knew Lucas at all. How could someone do that?”
Anna leans closer, her voice firm. “People like him … they’re experts at showing only what they want others to see.”
I nod, still reeling from it all. As difficult and dark as those months were following our break-up, I’m finally at a place where I feel like I can look back with a sense of gratitude. I’m grateful I discovered that account, grateful I had the chance to end things before we were legally tied to each other. In some fucked-up way, Lucas’s betrayal was a gift.
If he hadn’t left his phone at home that day, I would have committed myself to a life with him built on a foundation of lies. If I hadn’t endured the heartache, it wouldn’t have led me to James. So, standing where I am now, I’m not sure I can resent Lucas for what he did. To either of us.
“Is James okay?” Gemma asks.
“Yeah, surprisingly, he seems fine. It happened a long time ago. But it explains why they aren’t close. I just assumed it was due to their age difference.”
“I’m surprised he still speaks to the tosser,” Anna says.
“Caroline has struggled with her mental health, and he knows the truth would break her, so he puts up with him for her sake,” I explain.
“That’s … actually quite decent of him,” Anna says. “I mean, I’d have told him to fuck off.”
“I’m with you on that one,” I say.
“And how are things between you and James?” Gemma asks.
I smile. “Really good. I like him. A lot.”
Anna reaches across the table, taking my hand in hers. “I can tell. You two deserve to be happy.”
“It’s so nice seeing you like this,” Gemma says, smiling.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Yourself.”
Chapter 41
James
Iset off early to visit my parents in Toton, where I grew up on the outskirts of Nottingham in the Midlands. It’s surrounded by trails and nature reserves, where Lucas first discovered his love of hiking. He sought peace out amongst nature any time the weather permitted, as I was holed up in my room immersing myself in music, moving my fingers along my guitar as I practiced endlessly.
Growing up, we didn’t have much, but Toton offered a good school and access to after-school programs and hobbies, like my music lessons. It’s a welcoming community. Knowing Mum would be well cared for after we left made it easier to move to a new city after finishing my A-levels. She’s active in local clubs, has made great friends, and finds purpose in the social circles that keep her happily engaged and out of the house.
Dad, on the other hand, isn’t one for change. He sticks to what he knows, finding comfort in familiarity, which has suited Mum well enough.
Their marriage has always seemed steady but lacking the open affection I witnessed between my friends’ parents. Lucas and I, despite being grateful for all our parents provided, neverfelt we could open up to Dad as easily as we could with Mum. He’s stiffer. More serious.
Growing up in Toton provided a great start, but Lucas and I both longed to experience big-city life, so we made our way to London as soon as we could, only returning home during the holidays and long weekends. Lucas moved back to Toton for a brief period after he and April split, but according to Mum, he recently set himself up in a small flat in Battersea, so I can’t deny that I’m relieved he won’t be home for the conversation I’m about to have with Mum and Dad.
The guitar solo blasts through the car cabin, and I tap my fingers against the steering wheel. It’s about a two-and-a-half-hour drive from London to Toton, giving me plenty of time to crank the volume and lose myself in music without complaint from the neighbours. And I’m making the most of it, blaring the latest release from Bound to Oblivion.
I pull up in front of Mum and Dad’s brown brick, semi-detached and turn off the ignition. It’s been ten years since I’ve lived here, and the street hasn’t changed a bit.
Mum swings open the door, beaming as she rushes towards me. She’s in her usual trousers and white shirt, with that soft maroon cardigan she always wears. Her chestnut hair is cut into a bob, and her tortoiseshell glasses perch on her small nose. She’s so cute.
“Peter!” she calls over her shoulder. “James is here!”
I lean down, letting her eager arms wrap around me as I lift her off the ground. She squeals, laughing as I spin her around, then set her gently back down. She swats at my chest, still giggling, and I return her bright smile.
I really need to make more of an effort to see her. I’ve become slack since amping up with band practice. I call her a few times a week to check in but seeing her face light up in person stirs warmth in my chest.
Dad appears in the doorway. “Son,” he says, giving me a sharp nod.
