‘Do you have any clothes left, Cal?’ I asked dryly as I reached the top of the stairs. He was back in the kitchen now, wearing only his boxer shorts. ‘I mean, it’s an improvement on last time but, you know.’
I didn’t wait for his response as I walked past him and on to my room at the very back, opening the door to . . . everything I had left behind weeks and weeks ago. It felt like a time capsule, dust motes spiralling in what little September sun filtered through the window. I sat on my comfy seat next to it, wondering how I’d ever thought I could just come back to this life as though nothing had happened.
Footsteps sounded behind me and I turned to see Cal coming in, holding out a cup of black coffee. I nodded a thanks as I took it, waiting for him to leave, then stifling a groan as he perched on the edge of the bed instead.
‘I am sorry, Hes,’ he urged, turning one of the many silver rings on his fingers, something he always did when nervous. ‘Can we just start again? Like this is the first time you’ve come back in? I’ve tidied up in the other room, why don’t we—’
‘No,’ I blurted, softening at his expression. ‘Thanks. I just want to get some things together and go, okay?’ I chickened out of talking about putting the place up for sale, knowing it would give him the ammo to extend the conversation. ‘I’m busy – this was only a quick stop.’
He looked away for a moment, shoulders sagging. For a brief moment, I saw the man I’d met under all of the ink: the wide-eyed good-time guy who’d charmed his way into my life and become the centre of my world.
‘The studio’s being cleaned up in a couple of days,’ I added, meeting his gaze as he turned back. ‘Why don’t we meet after that and sort things out? I don’t want things to get . . . nasty or difficult. I just . . . I think it’s better if we divide things up and move on properly.’
He frowned, covering it with a nod.
‘Sounds like it’s all figured out,’ he said, standing. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’
Walking out, he closed the door softly behind him.
Sighing, refusing to take his bait and start a new, likely more explosive conversation, I put on my headphones instead. Climbing onto the chair, I reached up to take a small roll-on bag from the top of the wardrobe.
As my mind fell back on the task at hand, running through a mental checklist of items I knew I wanted, the music paused as my phone pinged.
I pulled it from my pocket as I opened the drawer in front of me, glancing down just as I scooped up a T-shirt I wanted.
Are you there?
I dropped the T-shirt in shock, my heart somersaulting.
Jesse.
Fuck.
Forcing myself to breathe, fingers beginning to tremble, I typed back.
Yes?
I tapped send, hand over my mouth as it sent, and moved back to the chair, sinking into it as his name appeared on the screen. He wanted to FaceTime.
Shit, shit, shit.
With a brief thought to how I looked, knowing I’d made enough of an effort to meet with Lil to be passable, I picked up, barely breathing.
In another second, he was there, sitting up against the headboard in his room. The shock of seeing his face, his kind, beautiful eyes wary, the torturous echo of his last words to me playing out, almost choked me.
‘Hey,’ he said gently, his brow furrowing as I immediately teared up, holding up a finger as I desperately tried to gather myself, mortified. I took my headphones off and switched over to my phone speaker, shaking my hair out.
‘Hi,’ I finally replied, trying a small smile as he glanced down, so clearly struggling himself that the urge to reach out and touch him was overwhelming. ‘Oh fuck, Jesse,’ I whispered, a sob rising already. ‘I miss you so much.’
He shook his head, pleading.
‘I miss you too,’ he breathed. ‘Are you all right?’
I tried to nod, wanting to reassure him, but it turned into a shake instead.
‘Hestia,’ he started, his eyes burning already. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t be without you, honey. I’m trying, I’m really fucking trying, but . . . I—’
‘I know,’ I agreed, all efforts at pretence dissolving. ‘I don’t think I can either.’
