He raises his eyebrows and slides some pages over to her.
She doesn’t recognise these, but she reads them anyway; her cheeks, impossibly, are getting hotter as it dawns on her that this is an ending Alex has written just for her. Lines of dialogue jump out, slapping her in the face, which must be why her face is increasingly burning.
You’re my family now. You’re the one I put first, regardless who else needs me, or thinks they need me, or has just got used to calling me whenever they need anything.
I know I’m not perfect. I know I need to work on my anxiety and get better at working through difficult issues.
I project my own fears onto others sometimes. I know that. I’ll work on that, I promise.
Jess’s eyes prickle with the tears that threaten to fall. She chews her lip, swallowing around the lump in her throat, willing her emotions to settle.
‘You’ve taught him well,’ Nathan says. ‘Those are some lines worthy of a full-on romance novel.’
She’s not sure if this is a compliment, but she says, ‘Thank you,’anyway. Or at least she tries to. It comes out like a squeak.
‘He needed to loosen up, as an author but also as a person. I really hope you two can make it work.’
Jess nods. She wishes she had the wherewithal to verbally spar, to be funny in this moment and diffuse the cringe she feels. But all she has is gratitude, and also a desperation to get out of there, and go and find Alex. To get those difficult conversations out of the way, but maybe first to do some other things.
‘So once you’ve figured that out, maybe you can rewrite this ending?’
From deep within, she manages to summon her voice. ‘I think that can be arranged,’ she says.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘Keep me posted on everything.’
Jess is pretty sure she won’t be doing that. ‘Maybenot everything,’ she says, recovering her smile. ‘But we can write you a better ending.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Nathan says. ‘I look forward to reading it.’
‘I look forward to writing it,’ she says. And then she gets up and goes before she embarrasses herself further.
‘So apparently we need to rewrite our ending,’ Jess says, when Alex opens the door to his flat. She’s caught him in baggy shorts and a T-shirt – perhaps these are his pyjamas. Or perhaps he is relaxing into more casual clothes. A new Alex. She liked the old one, but she can live with this one too. Although,live withis maybe a bit premature. They’ve got a lot to work through first.
‘Ah. So you got that memo, too, then?’
‘Apparently we weren’t very subtle.’
‘And we need to besubtle.’ Alex uses his fingers to mimic air quotes, a cover quote on a book. ‘So,’ he says, looking her up and down in a way that suggests he has missed her. Or perhaps just checking to see if she has brought writing supplies. ‘You’re here to rewrite the ending.’
‘In a way,’ she says, locking eyes with him. It’s pathetic how much she’s missed him. It’s only been a few weeks. They’re still standing in the doorway, kept close together by the walls. Neither of them apparently wants to move from this forced proximity. ‘I think we should talk. But I also think I want to—’
Alex leans forward, and his lips land gently on hers. She doesn’t finish her sentence.
‘Talking can wait,’ he says softly, brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her more deeply. He pulls back, remembering his manners. ‘If that’s okay with you,’ he says, a note of desperation in his voice.
‘It’s very much okay with me.’
Afterwards, Jess pulls her T-shirt back on, while Alex makes tea. She should probably have thought this through better, what she was going to say. It feels like there’s so much, and she doesn’t know where to begin. Maybe she should have brought writing supplies after all – her trusty, battered notebook for brainstorming. What would she write at the centre, surrounded by a bubble?A better ending, probably.
‘So,’ Alex says, handing her the tea. ‘Where do we start?’
‘I was just wondering that too.’
‘Let’s maybe start where we left off,’ he says, shuffling back into bed and pulling the quilt over both of them. ‘Or whereIleft off. When Ivy was over.’
Addressing this head on. This seems like a good sign, an indication that he’s changed. That he’s not going to run away from difficult conversations.
‘Okay,’ she says. ‘That sounds good.’
