I’m just steaming the milk when I see Jude’s Toyota turn onto the drive, and he pulls up in front of the house. I glance at Beth. She’s breathing fast, and she presses her fingers to her mouth and glances at me. “I think I’m going to throw up.” Before I can say anything, she turns and runs off along the corridor, back to the bedroom.
Shit.
Jude knocks on the door and tries the handle, but I haven’t unlocked it yet. “Hold on,” I yell, and I put the milk jug down and go over to the door. My heart races as I turn the key, and I take a deep breath as I open it. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched.
“Come in.” Acting as natural as I can, I walk back to the kitchen, and Jude follows me in, closing the door behind him.
“I’m just making coffee,” I call.
“Cool.” He stops by the breakfast bar and looks around. “Where is she?”
“Bathroom.” I nod toward the sofa. “She slept there.”
He nods, looking down the hallway, and he twitches as if he’s about to go down there and find her.
“I’d leave her for a minute,” I say calmly. “She drank quite a lot last night, and she said she was feeling queasy.”
He snorts. “She’s never been able to hold her drink.”
“Neither can you.” My tone is unusually sharp, but I can’t help it. I don’t like him talking about her like that.
But he just says, “Yeah, you’re right,” his lips twisting.
I pour the milk over the espresso in the three cups, then push his cup over to him. He takes it and studies it for a moment. Then he says, “I want to apologize.”
“What for?”
“Last night. You tried to help, and I was rude. I’m sorry.”
I shrug, leaning back on the counter as I sip the coffee. “Don’t worry about it. You’d just broken up with Beth. It made sense that you were upset.” I can’t help myself—I have to remind him.
He runs a hand through his hair and heaves a big sigh. “Yeah.” He sips his coffee.
I frown. “Are you here to take it back?”
“I don’t know. We need to talk about it.” He looks up at me over the rim of his cup. “How is she? Is she angry?”
“No… I don’t think so.” Inside, I battle with myself as to what to say. My head hurts, and I feel a huge mixture of emotions—guilt, sadness, joy, rebelliousness, resentment, and frustration. What a fucking mess.
If there’s even the slightest chance that he and Beth might get back together, it makes what we did last night cheating. Doesn’t it? Or does it? I think about Ross and Rachel inFriends, and their eternal argument about being ‘on a break.’ This feels different, because last night Beth and Jude both seemed convinced it was over. But even if they were, Jude would be justified in being hurt that his girlfriend and his bestfriend slept together, as if we were just waiting for the moment to betray him.
“Did she tell you why we broke up?” he asks.
I nod slowly. “She mentioned that she wants a family, and you don’t.”
He stares moodily into his coffee. “It’s not that I don’t want kids at all. It’s the process. It’s literally killed Simon, and I don’t want to be in that position.”
I refrain from pointing out that it hasn’tliterallykilled Simon. This isn’t the time to be a grammar Nazi. “I know what you’re saying. But no relationship is trouble-free. When you love someone you need to work through problems like this together.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, all right, Mr. Therapist.”
Anger sears through me. I could have played this so differently, and put my own feelings above his. I could have told Jude as soon as he walked through the door that I slept with Beth last night. I could have made it clear that I want her, and I don’t care how he feels about it, because he’s hurt her, and nobody hurts the girl I love. Instead, I’m pretending last night didn’t happen, even though it was the best thing that’s happened to me for years. I’m making that sacrifice for him, and he chooses to mock me for it.
“Well, fuck you,” I snap before I can think better of it.
His eyebrows slowly rise. “What?”
