‘Hi.’
‘Were you watching me sleep?’
‘You snore. It’s like a gorgeous symphony.’ I reached for her, and she snuggled into my chest, fingers straight into my chest hair, while mine were in her golden curls. ‘What do you want to do today? I think the wind has died down. Do you want to go home? More footy?’
‘God no.’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘I just want to be near you. I don’t care what we do.’
My hands stilled. Now that she had declared her love, I kept feeling it in everything she said and did. It was like this solid, warm glow in my chest. There was something comforting and yet astounding about being loved by her.
‘Actually, I need breakfast,’ she said. ‘And I desperately need Panadol. But apart from that I don’t care what we do. Let’s go buy a book each and lie in the park. Or stay in bed all day and watch crappy movies. I wonder what degree of freezing it will be today. I don’t have many clothes.’ She rolled over to check her phone. ‘Ah, fuck. I forgot to charge it. It’s dead.’
‘Here, I’ll charge it.’ I grabbed it off her and connected it to the charger on my bedside table.
She settled back into my chest. Her breathing became regular, and I wondered if she would fall asleep. My fingers fell into her hair, and I felt so connected to her, almost as if our two souls had merged and become something whole.
‘Abbey, I want you to know—’
Her phone ringing interrupted me and that was probably good timing because I had no idea what was going to come out of my mouth.
She went to ignore it but then said, ‘It might be Ella,’ and climbed over me to pick it up. ‘It’s Peter.’
I sat up because I heard anxiety in her voice.
‘Hi Pete. Is Ella okay?’
I watched as she instinctively wrapped her naked bottom half in the sheet, covering herself as if she didn’t want her ex-husband to see her. I wondered, not for the first time, who this guy was. I obviously thought he was a bit of a prick and, honestly, Abbey brought out jealousy in me that I had never experienced before. The envy is interesting and probably had to do with not being able to say she was mine, a problem of my own making. But I didn’t like that he made her beige.
Abbey had told me on several occasions that he never called her and was a text-message-only guy, even through their marriage, so his phone call made me worried that something was wrong. I have stood at too many graves. I stress about phone calls from guys like Peter Parker.
‘Hey, Abbey.’
I could hear him through the phone, though he wasn’t on speaker. He was speaking slowly and I felt the urge to shout, ‘Come the fuck on,’ though I managed to suppress it.
‘Umm, Ella’s fine. Sorry to bother you. I know you’re away on a work trip. Abbey, the nursing home can’t seem to get in touch with you or Kate and they said Iris had a fall. She’s okay. They said that her heart is playing up, and they wanted to let you know. I guess I’m still the next contact.’
‘Shit. Okay. I’m going to come home.’ She closed her eyes tightly, and her hand gravitated to her throat, where her pendant should have been. ‘Thanks for calling me.’
‘Of course, Abbey. Of course.’
I watched her internal crisis as her eyes filled with tears before they spilled over, and I wrapped her into me. I had started to feel her pain as if it was my own.I’m so far gone.
I wanted to fucking rage at myself and anything in the world that hurt her. I couldn’t keep denying these feelings I have for her. They wanted to spill out. I wanted to shout them from the top of the tallest building or Oprah’s couch. I have two options here. And the only one I think I can live with is to walk away at the end of this weekend.
Sometimes, when I was being particularly cruel to myself, I imagined I hadn’t been through what I have been through. That I met Abbey, but I was a different person. That our relationship was out in the open. Our families barbecued together, our girls played Taylor Swift songs and danced around her house. That I got to wake up to her every day, that I told her I loved her so often she’d started to roll her eyes when I said it.
I needed to get her home to her family.
‘Sweetheart, let’s get back to Sydney. Let’s get you home.’
Chapter Fourteen
Abbey
Sweetheart. We. Home.
Oh, God, I want to sink into that fairytale.
I tried to control the sheer number of emotions attempting to overwhelm me. Chief amongst them was the fear that I was not home – not close enough to check on Gran. I had to channel my inner Nick Northby and deal with the rest later.
