I stare at his gleeful face and realise that I don’t feel a trace of excitement.
His smile falters.
What I actually feel, I realise, is dismay.
That’s not right. That’s not right at all.
This isnota reaction I can bank. This is something that needs dealing with here and now.
Elliot’s brow creases into a frown. ‘You don’t seem that happy about it.’
I shake my head. I can’t correct him.
‘What’s going on?’ he demands to know.
‘Elliot, I’m sorry.’ My voice comes out in not much more than a whisper.
‘Why?’ he asks guardedly as I force myself to face the truth – it’s something I’ve been avoiding for a while.
‘I don’t want you to come,’ I admit.
‘What?’ he asks with alarm.
I take a deep breath and make myself say it. ‘I think we should break up.’
‘What?!’ He flies to an upright position. He’s been sprawled out on his brown-leather sofa, the one on which I’ve snuggled up with him on countless occasions. ‘Does this have anything to do with Charlie?’
‘No.’ My scalp prickles as I shake my head. ‘Yes.’ I shake it harder. ‘I don’t know.’ I return my gaze to him on the screen.
‘Have you cheated on me?’ He’s aghast.
‘No!’ I exclaim. ‘Never!’
‘But you wanted to,’ he says flatly.
‘That’s not true. At least, I don’t think it is. I’m very confused.’
I’ve always had strict rules about what constitutes cheating. To me, being unfaithful is not as simple as getting physical. Even fantasising about kissing or having sex with someone who isn’t your partner is a crime in my books.
I haven’t thought about Charlie in that way, but I’ve been suffocating a far deeper attraction to him. And there’s more to it than that. I can no longer deny what my heart has been trying to tell me for weeks.
I am in love with Charlie.
And how he feels about me is irrelevant to the conversation that’s going on right now. My admission itself is enough to bring my relationship with Elliot to its knees.
‘Do you not think this is just because we’ve been apart for so long?’ Elliot asks me in a wavering voice, and I feel sick to see the pain I’m causing.
Would we be splitting up if I’d never left Australia? I doubt it very much. Wearegood together – we always have been. I still can’t believe we found each other again after all these years. There’s every chance I’m making a terrible mistake in letting him go.
‘I could still come to Thailand.’ He puts forward this gentle suggestion. ‘We could just see.’
‘No.’ My chest feels constricted as reality sinks in. I really am breaking up with him.
It’s not as if there hadn’t been signs: I’ve been avoiding Face-Timing him for weeks, and, when we have spoken recently, our conversations have often been strained. The piece of me that was his has been shrinking steadily ever since Charlie and I became friends. It’s nothing that Elliot has done. It’s nothing thatanyonehas done intentionally. My heart is holding the reins, not my head. And it has already carved part of itself off for Charlie.
‘ItisCharlie, isn’t it?’ Elliot looks stunned.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I reply, feeling an intense stab of frustration that we’re having to have this conversation on the phone and not in person. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t even know how he feels about me.’
