‘Fuck this.’ Archie holds his hands up, gathers his jacket, phone and the remainder of the bottle on the table. He goes to the front door and looks back at me. It’s only now that I see his eyes are rimmed with red. ‘And fuck you.’
The door slams behind him on his way out.
Florian and I both stare at the door for a moment, the sound echoing around the apartment for longer than it should. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
‘You should go too.’ I ignore his concern.
‘Me?’
‘Yes. It’s late and I’m tired and…’
‘What, so I leave and then you can avoid me for another week and then when we do see each other again, you’ll just pretend that nothing’s happened?’
‘Well, shouldn’t we?’ I turn on him.
He looks shocked, more shocked than when Archie had found us out. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Isn’t it better if we pretended like it hadn’t?’
‘Are you fucking serious, Ava?’
‘Look, perhaps it’s best if we just have some space.’
‘Some space?’
‘Yes, space, and just some thinking time, you know? Look, Florian, I like you, I do, but we can’t seriously think this is going to do anything but backfire on us. I’m leaving in just over a week, Florian. Surely, it’s best if we don’t try to complicate things any further…’
‘Don’t use that excuse.’
‘Okay, well how about this one: you’re his brother, Florian, I’m his wife, in what world would this ever work?’
I watch as a darkness pours over his face, it was the same instinctive cloud that materialised when Archie had said Ettie’s name. ‘You know what? Fine.’ He grabs his phone and keys from the coffee table. ‘I’m done. You want time then you can have it, all of it.’ He grabs his jacket and exits, leaving me alone in the apartment, wondering at what point in the night I managed to fuck it all up quite so catastrophically.
Chapter 24
Imanage to dozeoff in sporadic, thirty-minute stretches until the sun beats through the curtains and I give up entirely on sleep. My head is a foggy minefield; for every delicious vignette from the café, of flesh and relief and excitement, there are two from the apartment, of Archie and his anger, of Florian’s sad, dejected face.
I reach into my bedside drawer for my diary and release it all onto the page until it’s all there, in black and white, every detail and realisation taunting me.
My phone vibrates. I half expect to see that it’s Florian, getting there before me, but instead my mum’s contact card appears. I feel a comforting relief wash over me and I shelve the diary back in the bedside drawer.
‘I thought you would still be asleep.’ Her voice is full of surprise.
‘No, I’m awake.’
‘Well, there’s a nice surprise. Is it sunny with you? The weather lady said there was a heatwave over Europe at the minute.’
‘Yes. It’s really nice,’ I reply flatly.
‘You are getting out of the apartment, aren’t you, making the most of it?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘I have visions of you locking yourself in a dusty little attic with just your laptop for company.’
‘Not quite.’
There’s a longer, heavy pause. ‘Are you okay, love?’
