We stand in silence for a few moments, our heavy, panicked breathing mixing in the small space between us. I release my crossed arms and let them hang by mysides. His hands fall with them, slowly drifting down my arms as if they’re magnetically fused to me. My body heats as he takes a deep breath. “By the way, you never had to be embarrassed. Grace, if things were different that night at the Christmas party—”
“Don’t...” I interrupt, pressing my hands against his warm chest. “I don’t need your pity. I just—I need some time.”
I know I need to clear my head because I can’t fully comprehend what I’m upset about, whose betrayal hurts more. The person who tried to force me into a life he wanted or the person who kept secrets from me under the guise of “protection.” I can’t work out why Bancroft lying to me feels just as bad as William’s betrayal.
Susie has gone home for the day so I’m free to leave the office without attracting suspicion. When I finally reach my flat I let out a sigh of relief I’ve been holding in for months, but before I drop my bag on the floor I feel a hot tear roll down my cheek. Everything comes to the surface. William, Fate, Bancroft, the crushing pressure of this promotion, the betrayal, my stupidity and blindness to the obvious truth. My chest cracks open and I let out a deep sob.Just let it out,my brain says to itself, to my heart, to my entire body as it shakes and drops to the ground.
19
“Should we order pizza?” Alice asks, seeing me nesting in fleece blankets on the sofa for the second night in a row. This woman has the metabolism of a grizzly bear. She could eat a seven-tier birthday cake and then still go out in a skintight dress to get burritos.
“Shouldn’t we have had that first, then the mountains of ice cream?” Yemi questions, pointing to our stacked speckled bowls littering the scratched wooden coffee table along with tear-stained tissues and half-empty wine glasses.
“The ice cream was an emergency protocol and should be stricken from the record,” Alice explains.
“Would you like to include the massive bag of crisps and the double G&Ts too, Your Honour?”
Alice hums wisely. “Dismissed.”
“I don’t think I could eat another thing ever again,” I say, laying my hands on top of my protruding stomach like a proud mother of a most beloved food baby. “Thank you for this, guys. I really needed it.”
The doorbell buzzes and Alice rolls off the sofa to push a manicured finger into the intercom button.
“Hello?”
“Delivery,” replies a loud metallic voice.
“Third floor, thanks!”
“Oh my God, Al, did you already order the pizza?” I laugh.
She flings her hands up to her face, palms facing us. “I swear I didn’t!”
A knock at the door echoes down our cramped hallway and she frantically pads over to answer. A man with a beard and Cockney accent asks her to “Sign here please, and here, and here.” Then we hear our heavy front door slam shut, and the silver chain rattles against the wood as smooth cardboard slides across the floorboards.
“Uhhhh, guys? I’m gonna need some help with this,” Alice shouts in a strained tone. Yemi and I throw confused looks at each other as I release myself from my multi-layer fleece-lined cocoon. We reach the door to find Alice half carrying, half dragging a thin square package wrapped in cardboard across the floorboards into the hallway. Each grabbing a corner, we haul it into the living room and lean it gently against the magnolia wall.
“What is it?” Yemi asks, cocking her head to the side.
“The delivery guy didn’t say.” Alice holds up a small blank white envelope between two fingers. Yemi takes it and pulls out a thick piece of card. She quickly scans it and then gasps, pressing the note to her chest.
“It’s fromEric!” she announces with a wicked smile.
My stomach lurches with a sickly combination of dread and embarrassment. What in the note couldpossibly be gasp-worthy? I take the note; the card has an expensive matte texture. The logo on the letterhead says “CALICO” in blocky embossed cursive. The gallery? I immediately recognize his controlled but scratchy handwriting:
Before you even think about it, this is not me attempting to buy your forgiveness. This is an apology for not being a good friend, twice. I should have told you. It was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry. You deserve so much better.
Eric
The card wobbles in my hands. Alice rests her chin on my shoulder, reading the note under her breath.
“What’s in the package?” she asks impatiently. “Can we open it?”
I nod silently, finding it hard to summon words.
You deserve so much better.I keep reading that line over and over.
Better than what? Than William? Than him?
