‘I’m never going to be in love with him. I do know that for certain,’ I tell her, determined to make that clear.
She nods. ‘I know. It’s obvious that’s not on the cards for you. You don’t need to spell it out. But you want my view?’ she continues.
‘Please.’
‘You’re overthinking all this. It’s understandable why you would. But Jules, justdon’t. It’s pointless. If I were you, I’d accept that there are far worse things in life than being kissed by a handsome man.’
I realise I’m biting the side of my mouth. ‘Heisa very good kisser,’ I mutter eventually.
‘Well then. They don’t come along every day. It’s normal that you’d want to take things slow.’
‘But even that implies that we’re taking thingssomewhere,’ I protest. ‘To an end destination. Which is not what I want at all. That was the problem with Gavin and . . . oh God, I really need to do something about Gavin.’
My head spins just at the thought of him. Wimbledon tickets or not, I have to tell him it’s over the moment I get home. Which I’m dreading so much that it raises a question: why am I seriously contemplating stepping into such dangerous territory with Sam when all of this is such a minefield?
Admittedly, being around Gavin is nothing like being with Sam. The most I feel around him is affection. But around Sam? I amon fire. The whole thing is so intensely physical; it’s like every nerve ending in my body has suddenly sparkled into life. So maybe the answer is easy: I just need to think of Sam in purely physical terms and keep emotion out of it, for my own sanity’s sake.
‘Jules, take my advice, please,’ Nora says eventually. ‘You are way too focused on where this is going. I know it’s hard but try not to worry about the future. And if it makes you feel better, have a chat with Sam, tell him you feel a bit conflicted. I think he’d probably understand.’
Chapter 40
There is a distinct split in the minibus on the way to the airport. Those members of the party who went home early are now merrily chatting away. The rest of us are slumped in our seats, bleary-eyed, shamefaced, a little bit broken.
‘Well, that’s one blowout done for the next decade,’ Lisa sighs, sipping Diet Coke.
‘And the rest,’ Jeff says, lifting up his sunglasses. ‘Whose idea was it to drink those terrible green things, anyway?’
‘YOURS,’ everyone replies.
He lowers his sunglasses, crosses his arms and pretends to go back to sleep.
My physical state is far from the only issue here, though. Although Sam and I have said hello and he helped put my bag into the boot of the minibus, I’m finding it hard to look at him. And while it’s possible that I’m still drunk, the more the alcohol has worn off, the more it has been replaced by a scratchy feeling under my skin.
Long after we’ve passed through security and the others are mooching around Duty Free, I find a seat in front of the big window, where you can watch the planes take off. I am gazing out at the chemtrails in a brilliant blue sky, when Sam appears out of nowhere.
He sits down next to me and looks straight ahead too.
‘Hi,’ I say, softly, turning to him.
‘Hi.’ He looks at me with a cautious smile. ‘How are you feeling?’
There are so many answers to that question; I stick to the simplest one. ‘Like if I make any sudden movements I’ll bring up my lunch.’
‘That good? And, putting aside the gastrointestinal issues, how are you feeling about... everything else?’
The backs of my eyes feel hot. ‘Honestly? I’m not sure I even know.’
‘Hmm. Well, I suppose thatcouldbe worse.’
‘Look, last night . . .’ I begin, then can’t decide what I want to say. I sigh. ‘I enjoyed it. At the time.’
‘Well, thank God for that.’
He smiles in a clear bid to lighten the mood. It does work, at least a little. ‘So, what’s on your mind? Come on. I’m a big boy. I can take it.’
I look down at my hands. ‘Things are complicated. You know what we talked about over the rosé? About how people have this idea about how you should move on after someone you love has died, but that sometimes it’s just not that easy?’
Recognition filters into his expression.
