‘Why can’t she be on my side?’ I mutter. Then I remember Matt sitting stock-still on the sofa, forgotten in my soap-opera call.
‘Families,’ I say with a weak smile. ‘Can’t live with them... so you move to another continent.’ He smiles sympathetically, that small touch of understanding allowing the threatening tears to spill. ‘Christ, I’m losing the plot. I totally cracked the shits with my mum!’ I press fingers against my temples to stave off the building ache. ‘I’m so rooted—she’ll get miles out of this,fucking miles!’
‘Hey, it’s okay.’ With his hands on my shoulders, he peers down at me, eyes sincere. ‘I have no idea what you just said, but it can’t be that bad.’
My return smile is watery, it’s all I can manage as I allow him to lead me to the sofa. My hands shake as adrenaline courses through my bloodstream, a reaction to the possibility of Shane having access to me in any way—I can’t face him. I won’t—and the fact that I’ve totally played into my mother’s hands. She’ll play the injured party forever. Why can’t she ever supportme?
‘I shouldn’t have lost it with my mum.’ I sniff, wiping my nose with the heel of my hand. ‘She’s a total emotional blackmail ninja.’
‘Should I make tea or something?’
I peek out from behind splayed fingers: tea, the ageless, cross-cultural, crisis management tool. ‘I’m okay, really. I’ll be fine.’ Not to mention, I don’t have any tea. In fact, I don’t have much of anything in the kitchen at all. ‘Just give me a minute then we’ll head out for that coffee.’ I wipe my fingers under my eyes, concerned I might look like a sad panda. ‘What I could really do with is a drink,’ I mutter, wondering where I’d stashed Niamh’s last bottle of wine.
‘Hey, now you’re talking!’ Laughing, Matt holds out his hand. ‘As you may remember, I’m an expert in that area.’
‘But I don’t think I’ve...’
‘No, I’ve got this one. Come on.’
Grabbing my keys, I pull the door closed as we pass through.
