‘She texted you.I saw it on your phone that night we shared the tent.’
Realisation dawned on his face, slowly, like the sunrise.Then, hope cracked over it.
‘So I’m not the only one who is jealous.’
I recoiled, embarrassment burning in my cheeks.
‘Oh, fuck you!’
‘Lydia—’
‘I hate this.’ I flattened my palm against my forehead.‘I hate the way you make me crazy.You make me feel weak.Vulnerable.’
‘I make youfeel, Lydia,’ he shot back, stepping closer.
I snapped.‘I don’t want to feel!Youleftme.I didn’t even believe the letter.I thought it was some dumb joke.I went over to your dad’s house, stood on his doorstep.And he looked at me like I was some wounded puppy.’ I shook my head, my eyes burning.‘He told me it was true.You’d boarded that flight without a word.After that night.You started it, Ren.You finally saw me that night.And you changed everything—’
Ren’s voice turned dark.‘It wasn’t just me, Lydia, and you know it.’
I ignored him.‘You turned around and left me.Do you know how embarrassing—’
‘Lydia.’ His voice cut through mine.‘Before that night, I’d thought about you for years.’
My breath caught.‘Years?’
‘Yes.Years.But you were my best friend – the person I trusted with everything.And I was scared.Scared I’d ruin it.Scared I’d lose you.So scared I ended up doing exactly that.’ His eyes shut.‘And I’ve regretted leaving you every day since—’
‘Good!’ My voice broke.I wanted to sound angry, but I just sounded broken.‘Do you know how pathetic I felt?How embarrassing it was?How people would ask me at the club how you were doing, because as far as they were concerned, we were just Lydia and Ren – childhood friends.Little did they know that I was broken.And the funny thing was, before we slept together, I told myself I was over you.’ My laugh came out high and sharp.‘Naive eighteen-year-old Lydia from that gig was gone.I’d accepted that you never saw me that way.I was happy to have whatever morsel you’d give me – pathetic, by the way.’
I drew in a tight breath.‘And then that night… I thought maybe I’d been wrong.Maybe you did feel the same.Maybe I wasn’t imagining it.’
Ren’s hands hovered like he was aching to touch me.‘You weren’t imagining it.’
I gave a bitter laugh.‘I must have been.You made me hope.And then suddenly travelling the world was more important than I was—’
Ren gave a frustrated growl.‘I wasn’t travelling, Lydia.’
I scoffed.‘What the hell are you on about?’
Ren took a deep breath.‘I didn’t leave to hurt you.I left because I thought I’d lost everything here.Liam had pulled the rug from underneath me.I’d already resigned at work.And a job came up – no, not just a job.The best job someone like me could get.At Nocturne in Mexico City.’
My mind reeled.Ren used to wax lyrical about that place – Nocturne.I’d never been, obviously, but I’d heard him go on about it enough times to picture the whole thing: a black marble bar that looked like it belonged in a Bond film, low amber lighting, cocktails delivered perfectly, but with that calm ease that said they did it a million times a day.It came up often, back when I used to tag along to his Sunday-night pub crawls with the team – half of whom spoke about Nocturne reverently, with a sort of glassy-eyed awe.
‘They’re going to win it again,’ Gareth, Ren’s old boss, had said once, while we were sitting in the smoking area of the old, crooked pub in town.‘A mate of mine went last month.Said it was perfect.Sophisticated but not snobby – unlike half the bars in London and New York.’
Ren continued, snapping me back into the present.‘I could be a bartender for the best bar in the world or I could get another dead-end job in town.Apart from you, it was simple.If I couldn’t have my own bar, I’d work for the very best.But I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.I couldn’t bring myself to see your face.’
My throat constricted, and I pictured another version of our lives.A version where he had told me.I would have been proud – gutted at first, yes – but I would have smiled and made him a playlist for the flight.We could have talked, and figured something out.We’d been friends since we were six – what were a few more months, a few thousand miles?I would have visited.
I pictured myself walking down busy streets, crossing bustling squares, eating in intimate restaurants Ren couldn’t wait to show me.
But he’d taken that choice away from us.He hadn’t even given us a chance.And that – more than him leaving – was what hurt the most.
‘You should’ve told me.’ My voice came out hoarse.‘I would’ve been happy for you.So happy for you.’
‘You would have hated me.’
‘Would I have been gutted?Maybe a little.’ My voice dropped.‘But you seriously underestimate my feelings for you if you think this would’ve ruined us, Ren.’ I opened my arms wide.‘And guess what?I ended up hating that you left, anyway.So you got your wish.Congrats.’
