I live in fear of her quitting.
‘That’s good.’ I like that there’s no pity clouding his eyes. His gaze meets mine frankly, and as our look holds, I feel my face warming.
He pours the contents of the blender into the frying pan and I take a shallow breath.
His phone begins to vibrate, lighting up with a picture of a stunning woman with olive skin, glossy chestnut hair and an apple-cheeked smile.
Tom glances across at the caller ID, which readsCara, and freezes.
‘Sorry, I’d better take this,’ he mutters, answering the call. ‘Hey,’ he says shortly, wandering out of the kitchen and into the living room. ‘Yeah, the reception’s not great.’ I can still hear him clearly. ‘I had my phone turned off.’ Pause. ‘Youwere the one who said you wanted space. Now you have a problem withmeneeding some?’ He’s speaking in a loud whisper.
I hate that I’m inadvertently eavesdropping on his one-way conversation. I feel very uneasy. It doesn’t sound as though Cara is a friend. They have history.
But is she history? What if they’re just on a break? My stomach lurches at the thought. I distract myself by sliding off the stool and giving the contents of the pan a stir.
‘That’s good news,’ Tom says at last, although his tone doesn’t match his words. ‘It’s not going to go through in the next three weeks, is it,’ he points out flatly. ‘No, I’ll sort it when I have to.’ Pause. ‘If youwantto put it in boxes, fine,’ he replies. ‘Okay. Okay. Bye.’
He ends the call and walks back into the kitchen, seeing me standing at the hob. ‘Hey!’ he shouts joke-impertinently. ‘I have a feeling you’re someone who can’t sit still.’
He hip-bumps me out of the way and I laugh at the manoeuvre as he snatches the spatula from me with a small smile.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ he mutters as he adds some seasoning to the frying pan. ‘My ex,’ he explains. ‘She’s had an offer on our house and wanted to run it by me before accepting.’
‘Recent ex?’
‘We broke up a few months ago, but things had been rocky for a while. We’ve been living together on and off since.’
‘That sounds hard.’
‘It hasn’t been fun,’ he agrees, checking on the chicken simmering away in the saucepan.
I’m guessing this is why he’s needed to get away.
‘No chance of you two patching things up?’ I can’t help asking as he picks up his wine glass and takes a sip.
‘None whatsoever,’ he replies grimly, pulling out another stool from under the counter and sitting down next to me. ‘It’s complicated,’ he says.
‘When isn’t it?’ I reply, thinking of Finn.
I lift my glass before I can think too hard and knock it against his.
‘To letting go and moving on.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ he replies.
FIVE SUMMERS AGO
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘You call this a peeled potato?’ I hold up the offending vegetable.
‘It’lldo,’ Michael snaps, not even glancing my way.
‘There’s peel all over it!’
‘Do you want my help or not?’
‘I’m not sure that I do.’
