‘It’s notwrongto want to help my mum! You’re the one who told me to, remember?’
‘Yes, I remember. But that was three years ago now andthe situation has changed, and we’ve discussed it, put plans in place … boundaries … even though that’s a foreign concept to her. But I do think you’re wrong for not talking to me if you wanted to change what we’d agreed. We’re supposed to be a team, Jess. That’s what marriage means, doesn’t it?’
Shame washes over me. He’s right. ‘I honestly don’t think I can win here, Luke. I tried to do what you asked but I end up in the wrong. And if I do whatIthink is right, well, that’s wrong too.’
‘Well, I do think you’re in the wrong,’ Luke says. ‘Earlier on you were all “we can’t afford to go away for your birthday, Luke!” but now I discover you’ve spent at least that amount of money helping your mum out. Who’s making who feel second-class compared to their family now, huh?’
I can’t take any more of this. I turn and stomp from the room and head back to our bedroom.
‘Jess!’ Luke yells after me. ‘Come back! We haven’t finished talking!’
‘I have,’ I mutter under my breath.
But Luke doesn’t give up that easily. ‘Jess … For God’s sake! Where are you going?’
I pause with one hand on the door frame.
‘The Uber I ordered is going to be here in ten minutes,’ I yell back. ‘So, unless you want me to go out to dinner like this and get arrested, I’m going to need to put some clothes on!’Argue with that, I think, as I wrench the door open and stare unseeing into the back of my wardrobe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
LUKE
Eighteen Weeks Before the Anniversary Party
She sits in a large blue armchair, and he sits in a smaller one. The coffee on the small table between them isn’t as good as the Colombian roast from the independent coffee house they met at last time, but it isn’t bad. He’s on his second cup.
He’s here to listen. Elena needs him. Just talking, nothing else. They’ve agreed that’s what this is, and there are reasons why she would prefer to keep her situation private at the moment. Good reasons. So why does he feel bad about telling Jess he was meeting up with a friend but conveniently skirting around giving her a name?
Elena sighs. ‘You know what? I am sick of moaning about my life. Can we talk about something else?’
‘Whatever you want. What do you want to talk about? The weather?’
She snorts softly. ‘A very British pastime, but no, thank you. I am not yet ready to be that dull.’
He smiles at her. She’s teasing him. He likes it when she teaseshim. It brings some of the vitality back to her eyes. Much better than the sadness that’s been filling them lately. ‘Football?’
That earns him a soft swat on the arm.
‘Ow,’ he says feigning pain, but then remembers himself. ‘Read any good books lately?’
She presses her lips together while she thinks. ‘I’m not sure if small talk is what I had in mind. We are past that, no, you and I?’
He supposes so. He’s known her for well over a decade now, although they have floated in and out of each other’s lives. But recently she’s felt like an anchor for him. He’s very grateful for her friendship. ‘My next thought was films and TV, so I suppose that’s out too. I’m not sure I’m very good at this.’
‘You do okay,’ she says, giving him a look he can’t quite decipher. ‘And you’re here, which means a lot.’ She sighs and looks out the large plate-glass window for a few moments, at the twinkling lights of the city.
‘What do you need from me?’
Slowly, she turns her head to look at him again. ‘I need to not feel so alone, as if I am the only one in the world who has troubles.’
He holds her gaze. He understands her words, but he’s not sure what he can do about that. ‘We could talk about the news, plenty of people in dire situations every day, but I’m not sure it’s going to cheer you up much.’
She lets out a breath of laughter. It was a bad suggestion but she’s indulging him.
‘Maybe something closer to home. Tell me your news, Luke. What’s up with you? Where are your struggles at the moment? Maybe they are not as large as mine but hearing about them – sharing with each other – may help.’
His eyes glaze over as he checks through his memory banks of the last week for something suitable. ‘This sounds pathetic in comparison, but I accidentally bought the wrong paint colour for a job we’re doing, and we’d done two rooms and a hallway before we realized. Going to have to reorder the paint and redecorate, and it was Farrow & Ball. Dad was not pleased when he found out.’
