An offer I can’t refuse
And a great excuse to leave Mauve’s after I’ve washed up
JESS
That must be humbling
I hear Rory before I see him. I focus on the soapy water filling up the bowl below my fingertips.
‘Bloody hell. She must have upset you ifyou’re cleaning.’
‘Make yourself useful and grab a tea towel.’ I chuck it at him, and he catches it with one hand.
‘Don’t take what she said to heart, Sie.’ Rory sighs, picking up one of the biggest saucepans and wiping the bubbles off. ‘She only wants for you to be happy.’
‘I am happy,’ I protest.
Rory raises an eyebrow at me, pausing for a few beats, and then wincing. ‘If you’re sure. But you know, if you’re not, you can always talk to me.’ He picks up another pan without breaking eye contact, blowing the soap bubbles off the bottom so they fly towards my face.
I laugh, despite myself.
‘You just don’t pick good people, Sie. It sucks, but it is what it is.’ His laugh is soft, quiet. So soft and quiet that it almost doesn’t sound like the insult it is.
‘Woah.’ My mouth drops. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I’m just saying, well, there’s a reason that your relationships don’t last.’ He picks up another saucepan and looks me in the eyes again, shaking his head. ‘It’s not a comment on you, or on them. It means you haven’t picked the right person yet.’ He puts the saucepan back in the cupboard. ‘Your person.’
‘What if I don’t want to pick the right person?’ I question.
‘I know you, Sienna. And I think you do.’
I finally break his eye contact, looking at my hands in the now grey-brown water with little pieces of undercooked potato floating on the top.
‘What about you? Don’t you want to meet the right person?’
‘Yeah, I do. But not yet.’ He shrugs. ‘I’m too busy with work at the minute. I’d like to meet someone when I have time to dedicate to them and I’m not in the office until two in the morning and then getting back on the train at six.’
‘How do you know I want to meet the right person now,and not when I’ve retired from music?’ There’s a lump in my throat again, a soreness down my neck. I’m trying not to think too much about it. It’s just a cold that I need to recover from. No one else has raised any concerns yet.
‘Do you think you will retire from music? Or will you keep going, like Elton?’
I shrug. ‘Probably. The world will get sick of me at some point.’ I pause for a second. ‘Elton is a poor example. Didn’t he retire last year?’
‘Think he said he’ll still perform live occasionally, so I’m not sure if that counts.’ He puts a roasting tray back in the cupboard underneath its smaller sibling. ‘Sienna, you’ve been going for nearly fifteen years,’ he points out. ‘And the world isn’t sick of you yet. And you love it. You can see it in your eyes when you think about it. You still get lost.’
‘I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing. I’ll always be writing for other people.’ I itch my nose on my shoulder – why is it that my nose always gets itchy when my hands are wet? ‘But I don’t know whether I’ll release my own music and tour forever.’
Rory blinks hard and shakes his shoulders. ‘God, you’re so good at deflecting, aren’t you?’
‘So good you don’t even notice I’m doing it, yeah.’
We move around each other silently in the kitchen, Rory tidying things away while I wipe down the sides.
‘What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?’ he asks.
‘Jess is coming over tonight.’
‘As your friend… or to help with the, er, Luc stuff?’
