I return to the living room.
‘Are you okay?’ Alex asks with concern.
I nod quickly and smile brightly. ‘Fine!’
‘You’re not,’ he states.
‘Don’t,’ I cut him off. ‘Please.’
He goes over to the sofa, running his hand through his hair and scruffing it up as he sits down.
‘How did you break up?’ he asks.
I swallow, the lump back in force as I join him at the other end of the sofa. I shake my head quickly.
‘Was it you or him? Or mutual?’
‘More him than me,’ I reply unsteadily. ‘I wanted kids. He didn’t.’
‘Ah.’
‘I guess our age difference finally caught up with us.’ I drag my fingers under my eyes to catch a couple of stray teardrops.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says softly.
‘Yeah. It only happened a few days before I came away.’
‘Do you think he just needs space?’
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘No, he’s adamant. We want different things.’
He nods, scratching off the label on his beer bottle with his thumbnail as he stares at it in a daze.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Yours is not a shoulder I ever had any intention of crying on.’
He gives me a rueful look.
‘Do you think you and I could ever be friends again?’ I suddenly feel compelled to ask.
‘Of course,’ he replies.
I choose to ignore the fact that there was a moment’s hesitation before he spoke.
I wake up to the smell of bacon and freshly ground coffee. For a moment, I stare up at the ceiling, scarcely able to believe that I’m in Alex’s home. I climb out of bed and sweep up yesterday’s clothes, then walk through to the bathroom, glad of the oversized T-shirt covering me down to my thighs.
I don’t look too horrendous, I note as I check my reflection. I had nothing to take off my make-up with last night, so I went to bed with it on and it’s still pretty much intact this morning.
I say a silent thank-you to the clever people at Clinique who created their high-impact waterproof mascara and reach for the toothbrush Alex gave me from an unused airline travel kit. Then I drag the same kit’s comb through my hair, take a quick shower and get dressed in yesterday’s clothes.
‘Hey,’ Alex says warmly when I appear at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Hi.’ I smile back at him, my heart doing a funny little flip.
He’s wearing faded black jeans with a tear at the knees and a light-grey T-shirt.
‘Sleep well?’ he asks.
‘Surprisingly. Your spare bed is ridiculously comfortable. How about you?’
