I don’t comment on this. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.’
‘Why didn’t you, out of interest?’
I’m not even sure myself.
I had told him Josh was my first love. But not what it meant.
I shrug softly. ‘It’s a difficult thing to know how to explain. And it caused a few issues, with Lawrence. I didn’t want it to cause any with us.’
He appears to consider this. ‘Honesty’s a real thing for me, Rachel. With my last girlfriend—’
‘I know, and I’m sorry.’ Heart contracting with guilt, I reach for his hand, take it tightly in mine. ‘It just felt easier not to tell you at first, and then—’
‘Or maybe you thought we would never come to anything.’
I recoil a little, my hand loosening.
‘Sorry. Sorry. That was...’ Briefly, he shuts his eyes. ‘I guess this is all just a bit... I mean, the man’s hardly a one out of ten, is he?’
This surprises me. Oliver’s always struck me as fairly robust on that front, not prone to self-doubt, or lacking confidence in his appearance.
‘Looks aren’t everything,’ I say, then feel instantly bad, prepare to gabble a backtrack.
He doesn’t appear to have taken offence, though. ‘True. And you know what they say. Your first love is never your true love.’
I’ve never heard that before. But I don’t tell him so.
‘So, do you really think the pill has worked?’
I stare into my tea, permitting myself to briefly picture Josh, that stopped clock gifting him with the same taut skin and bright eyes, lean build and dark hair as he had nearly a decade ago. ‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘If Josh found a way to reverse the effects of it, what would you do?’
Oliver’s storm-grey eyes are fixed on me, unblinking. It’s clear I cannot risk hesitating, a pause of any kind.
‘Nothing. I wouldn’t do anything. It’syouI want, Oliver.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
‘I’m sure,’ I murmur before leaning forward, putting my lips to his. ‘I’m sure, and I’m sorry.’
Oliver is, I have discovered, an old-school romantic. He likes to kiss in cinemas and parks, linger in art galleries with our arms snaked around each other. We go to see live blues and jazz bands, eat fish and chips by the river. Often I fall asleep by his side, my head on his shoulder. He drops food to my doorstep, if it’s late and I have Emma, and I thank him with a kiss, my backagainst the brickwork, that singular pleasure of wanting him, yet knowing I have to wait.
I spend much of my time like this, longing for more of him. Once or twice he has called late at night, to tell me he’s been thinking about me. And we talk a little, the conversation slowly growing heated and intimate. Then, after we hang up and I am alone in bed, I find myself unable to stop thinking of him, too.
It’s funny, really. That the running joke in my office about Oliver’s phone voice has become – quite out of nowhere – my reality.
Not long after Christmas, I introduce him to Emma. He has asked to meet her before, but up till now I’ve said no. I’m pretty sure my only hesitation comes from knowing what is at stake here. Emma is deep-feeling and sensitive, and, if she and Oliver don’t hit it off, I’m not sure how he and I could ever continue. It’s felt less risky, so far, to keep them apart.
In the end, though, the occasion of their meeting turns out to be beautifully unexceptional. We arrange for him to come over one night between Christmas and the new year. And he handles the whole thing perfectly. From the moment he walks through the door, Emma accepts him as a friend.
We watchBeauty and the Beast, the three of us cosy on the sofa, sharing a bowl of popcorn. Oliver asks Emma lots of affable questions about pre-school and her favourite teachers, books she likes to read, her swimming classes and what she got for Christmas. She tells him about my dad, and the balance bike he gave her, and what we ate for breakfast on Christmas Day – piles of pancakes, towering with toppings, which she’s been talking about in roughly five-minute increments ever since.
The next morning, Emma and I find Oliver in the kitchen, flipping pancakes. He asks her what toppings she would like,and she suggests marshmallows, Nutella and banana. Oliver agrees this is an excellent combination.
