“Yeah. I should have checked to make sure she was okay. Thanks for doing it for me.”
I wince and cough, feeling an inch high. I should tell him right now what happened. He deserves to know. But something inside me makes me hold back. If I tell him, I’m going to ruin their chances of ever getting back together. After my horrific loss of self-control, I tell myself that normal service has been resumed. I can’t put my own desires first.
“Where do you think she’ll go?” he asks.
“Kim’s, maybe? Or Isla’s.”
He scowls. “She’ll have to talk to me at some point.”
“Yeah, I guess. Maybe she just needs time to calm down and decide what she wants first.”
“Why is it always about what the woman wants?” he snaps. “What about what I want?”
Jude and I have been friends since high school. He’s smart, funny, and hard working most of the time. He also has ADHD, and it occurs to me that I’ve spent the best part of twenty years blaming his erratic behavior on that when I’m not sure it’s the cause. He has many good points, and he’s been a good friend. But he’s also selfish, obstinate, childish, and a touch narcissistic. He’s always been the most important person in his life. And I’ve never understood that.
I should think carefully and give him some therapist-style advice, but I discover I’m not in the mood. I have a headache, and I miss Bethalready, and I don’t want to spend the morning mollycoddling a guy who had it good and lost it due to his own idiocy.
“Maybe it’s time you stopped thinking about yourself and put others first,” I snap. “You’re thirty, for God’s sake, not eighteen. You’re a man, and it’s time you started acting like one. If you don’t want kids, that’s fine, that’s a choice we all have to make, but you can’t go blaming Beth because she wants a family. Most women do. And you know what? Looking after the woman in your life, treating her like a queen, and making her happy should be the most important thing in the world to you. If you don’t feel a need to do that, then you’re with the wrong girl.”
Silence falls between us. Eventually, he picks up his phone. “I’m going to stop off at the supermarket and pick up a few things before I go home. I’ll catch you later.” He gets up.
Fuck. “Jude…”
He stops and turns to face me. “No, you’re right. I am a selfish prick. But I thought I was sounding off to a friend, that’s all. My mistake.”
He walks out, closing the door behind him.
I lean on the counter, put my head in my hands, then slide them into my hair.
Oh, I’m really covering myself in glory today. He’s absolutely right. When you talk to a friend, you should be able to moan and complain, even if you’re out of order. Maybe eventually the friend can gently suggest it might be worth looking at things from a different angle, but friends don’t do what I’ve just done. They don’t blunder in with both boots on and stomp all over your feelings.
And they don’t sleep with your girl while you’re trying to figure out whether there’s anything worth saving.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I snatch it out, nearly dropping it in the process, hoping to see Beth’s number. But to my surprise it’s Cullen. Briefly, I consider cancelling it, but I’ve been enough of a shithead this morning, and I force myself to press the green button and answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Cullen.”
“Yeah, hi. Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah! I’m at work.” It’s Sunday, but he’s still working some shifts at the Ark, in the Forever Home. “Hey, look, we’ve had a dogcome in. She’s a Spoodle—a Spaniel/Poodle cross. Cocker Spaniel, I think. She’s a ginger color. About a year old. She’s here through no fault of her own—her owners have broken up, and she’s been a bit neglected.”
I frown. “Aw.”
“Yeah, she’s real sweet. Spoodles are said to be good therapy dogs. She’s twelve kilos, so a good size, not tiny but small enough to carry. You asked me to keep an eye out for one last night and I suddenly thought how perfect she’d be, so I thought I’d see if you wanted first refusal.”
I hesitate. After everything that’s happened over the past twelve hours or so, I don’t know if I’ve got the bandwidth to think about adopting a pet.
“The thing is,” Cullen continues, “there’s a couple who are interested in her, and they’ve asked to come in this afternoon. But I think she’ll be really good at PAWS.”
“Okay,” I concede, trying to put the business first. “Shall I come up?”
“Yeah, I’m the only one here today.”
“I’ll be up in half an hour.”
“No worries.” He ends the call.
