‘Any of them will be perfect then.’
His response is the opposite of the one I’ve been gearing myself up to hear from Dad.
‘How so?’ I say, frowning.
He glances at me, then says gently, ‘Ellie, you’d be great at any of these. You’re a people person.’
I snort. ‘Me?’
He looks at me like I’ve just said the sky isn’t blue. ‘Of course, you. Don’t let what happened with the café drag you down.You’ve got something that makes people feel seen. Heard. You’d be a total asset to any of these jobs.’
I’m staring at the various job titles when his fingers curl around my wrist, his touch squeezing the air from my lungs.
‘Take the job that gives you space to breathe,’ he says softly. ‘Then figure out what really lights you up. Something creative, if I know you.’
He’s let go of my wrist now, but the feel of his fingers is imprinted on my skin.
‘We should talk.’ The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them.
He’s watching me closely and I have to concentrate to breathe. The thought of baring my soul is terrifying, but strangely, the thought of leaving stuff unsaid is worse.
‘So much happened back then and we never did talk it through.’ By we, I mean me, seeing as I was the one who ran.
‘We probably should. You don’t have to do it this minute if you’re not ready.’
He’s giving me a get-out clause, but deep down I know Reeni is right. It is something I have to do. I shift on the bench, my seat bones pressing into the wood uncomfortably.
‘What happened …’ I begin and then stop. I’ve rehearsed this speech so many times in my head, but now I’m here, I’m not sure exactly what to say.
Not for the first time he fiddles with the ring on his left hand.
‘It was hard for everyone. You don’t have anything to feel bad about.’ His voice is low and hoarse.
‘I do though.’ I begin to pick at the skin around my thumb. ‘I’m sorry I wouldn’t talk to you after …’ I swallow. No matter how many times this has reverberated around my head, I’ve never said it out loud.
Ever.
‘… after our baby died.’ My breath catches in the back of my throat, but I force myself to keep going.
‘I’m sorry I hid behind Mum and Reeni and kept you away.’ The words are tumbling over themselves now. I keep my eyes trained on the deep blue sea horizon line, hating how vulnerable I feel, and as if he knows he shifts a fraction, bringing his whole body closer as we sit side by side. ‘You were hurting too and I acted like I was the only one who’d lost anything.’
He’s twisted on the bench to face me, but I can’t feel any animosity, which I’m so thankful for.
‘I didn’t know what to do,’ he says, running his fingers through his hair and pushing it clear of his eyes so he can look at me. ‘I didn’t understand. Mum talked to me and tried to explain, but I was lost. I kept giving you space, thinking that’s what you needed. But it never felt like enough. And I didn’t want to make it worse.’
I swallow, but my mouth is like sandpaper. ‘I couldn’t talk to anyone, and I felt so guilty …’
He cuts across my words. ‘You never had anything to feel guilty for.’
That stops me in my tracks. This is it. He’s given me a gold-plated opportunity to tell him the truth. Explain what really happened, the choice I made, about the guilt which plagues me and hope he’ll understand. Hope it won’t drive him away.
‘None of what happened was your fault,’ he continues and just like that, the window to confess is slammed shut.
His hand drifts to the table, resting close to mine but not touching. The invitation’s there even if it’s unspoken and the urge to touch him is nearly overwhelming. I want to move my hand the millimetres it would take for our fingers to touch, but I’m frozen.
‘You did everything right. I did everything wrong,’ I say, my stomach churning. I’m willing him to understand. To let meknow I haven’t ruined anything, and I ignore the tiny squirm of conscience which is burrowing away in the corner of my brain, telling me I haven’t been completely honest.
He shakes his head gently. ‘There was no right or wrong, Ellie. We were grieving. Both of us.’
