‘Houses?’
The only way I could think of to find out if he’s finally made the break from Harris & Sons is by asking him outright. ‘Yes. Anything on the horizon with Elena?’
That gets his attention. He finally lifts his head, looking more than a little flustered. ‘Elena? Why would you mention Elena? I … I mean,we… haven’t seen her in years.’
‘But I thought—’
He stands up abruptly, jams his phone into the pocket of his trousers and starts whizzing around the kitchen, putting his stuff in the dishwasher, picking up his keys. I have the weird feeling that he’s avoiding the subject for some reason. ‘Right. That’s me. I need to head off. I’ll see you later.’ He doesn’t even meet my eyes as he gives me a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and leaves.
The sound of the front door slamming a second or two later makes me jump. I stand there in the kitchen, my arms hanging limply at my sides. ‘Happy anniversary,’ I mutter after him.
Feeling deflated, I go back upstairs, take a shower and get dressed. Is it me, or was Luke being strange? We had such an amazing time last night, our relationship seemed so strong in comparison to last time, that I thought at least I’d get a bit more affection from him. What’s happened in the last twelve months? Have I jinxed it all by losing the ring?
I continue to ponder why things feel a bit off as I put my jewellery on. As I’m concentrating on inserting an earring, I let my gaze wander around our bedroom. Hang on … What’s that print doing there?
I walk across the room to where a large vintage-style rail poster for the Lake District hangs above the chest of drawers. That shouldn’t be here. It should be the black-and-white framed photograph of Venice we picked up there second time around, when we were happy and in the mood for gathering memories and souvenirs, rather than sulking with each other.
I shake my head. My memory is so scrambled at the moment. I must be mixing things up. What’s really important right now is that I find that ring. Since the last place I checked was the living room, I might as well continue the search there before trying anywhere else.
I pull all the sofa cushions off again and have another rummage, to no avail, and it’s as I’m putting them back again, that something catches my eye. The tiles in the fireplace. They’re wrong. Because we bought the house a year later this time around, we couldn’t find the same tiles. Instead of the cream ones with the red tulips we originally had, I ended up with large yellow flowers, but here are the tulips staring back at me.
No. It can’t be.
I race into the kitchen diner, grab my bullet journal off the desk and leaf madly through it. When I can’t find what I’m looking for, I pull the previous year’s journal off the shelf and turn it to the fourteenth of May. My work commitments for the day are in there, but there is nothing to suggest I met with my mother that morning. I was sure I wrote that in there. I pick up another book and flick to the back. Where there should be a tally of allthe money I lent my mother that year, that list that caused an argument six years ago, there is a creamy blank page.
I sit down heavily on the desk chair and stare across the room.
No. This isn’t fair.
It’s not how this is supposed to go. I’m supposed to arrive on my tenth anniversary the same way as I arrived in all my others, building on the progress and course corrections made in previous years. I don’t want to admit it to myself, but I have the horrible feeling that’s not what has happened this time.
This house isexactlythe same as the one I left the last time I lived my tenth anniversary. Luke didn’t remember our new tradition about pancakes. And instead of being warm and affectionate this morning, at times, it felt as if he was looking right through me.
This isn’t a new version of our tenth anniversary. This is the old one. The nightmare.
I glance down at the space on my ring finger where the eternity ring should be. Of course, I wouldn’t be wearing it if I was reliving the first version of this day. Luke hasn’t given it to me yet. Well, technically, he didn’t ever give it to me. I just found it after he left.
That must be the reason. What else could it be? After all, the ring has been the key to everything so far – I don’t know why I didn’t put it together before now. I ‘jumped’ back in time after I found it the first time, and things weren’t going well, no matter how hard I tried, before Luke gave it to me properly in Venice. After that, things got quickly better and stayed that way. And now the ring is lost, I’m back at square one.
That has to be it. It has to be.
A flash of memory, Luke shouting at me, the hopelessness inhis eyes, the front door banging behind him fills my mind. Oh, God. If I’m right, it’s all going to happen again. And I’ve only got – I count silently in my head – twelve hours to change that.
I put my elbows on my knees and rest my head in my hands. What am I going to do? I can’t live through that again. I let down every wall, every barrier. I gave it my all. If he leaves me again, I will just be a shell of a person, filled with longing and regret that will never leave me.
I will end up just like my mother. I won’t have any other choice.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
JESS
I spend the next couple of hours panicking, looking absolutely everywhere for the ring, but coming up empty. Eventually, after a third search under the bed reveals nothing, I give up and sit down cross-legged on the bedroom carpet.
Letting my emotions overrun me is not going to do me any favours. I need to think, come up with a plan. Even if I have somehow ended up back in the first version – well, the only version – of my tenth wedding anniversary, it doesn’t mean it’s hopeless. I might have lost all the progress I’ve made over the last twelve days, but it isn’t over until the fat lady sings. Or, in this case, Luke walks out the door.
Just that thought makes my stomach wobble, but then I remind myself I’m not going into this blind. I’ve been here before. I know the key moments, the forks in the road, that led to Luke walking away. And I’ve learned a lot along the way.I’vechanged, even if the world around me hasn’t. I still have a chance to change things around.
Like Luke, I have work to do today, but only until mid-afternoon. Like last time, I’ve given myself more than a fewhours to get myself ready. But instead of taking a long, pampering bubble bath, I sit down with a notebook and pen and pick through my memories of my alternative life, trying to work out where the turning points were, how I managed to change things. I don’t exactly have a plan when Luke comes home, in terms of what to do or what to say, but I do know that I need to keep my cool, resist the urge to erect my formidable defences and, well, just be nice to him instead of mildly pissed off the whole time.
