Freya:That’s reaching.
Clara:Is it though?
A pause.
Hannah:Wait.
Hannah:What if it’s for you?
I blink.
Freya:Why would she be wearing it?
Clara:Omg.
Hannah:Imagine.
Clara:You’re going to have a Cartier bracelet.
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
Freya:You two are delusional.
Hannah:No listen.
Clara:Just wait.
Hannah:If he gives it to you tomorrow… then there’s your answer.
Clara:And if he doesn’t…
The message hangs there. I don’t reply. Because suddenly my chest feels too tight. My thoughts too loud.
I lock my phone and drop it onto the sofa beside me, pressing my hands to my face for a second. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what’s real. All I know is that image is burned into my brain now. The way they looked together. The way she looked at the bracelet. The way he looked like he fit there. Like he belonged there. Like maybe… Maybe that’s still his world. Maybe I’m just… a pause in it.
I lie back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, my heart still racing in a way that feels far too much like panic. I should go to bed. I should sleep. But there’s no chance of sleep tonight because my brain won’t stop replaying it. Won’t stop asking questions I don’t have answers to. Where is he right now? Is he still there? Is he with her? Is that why he hasn’t called? Has he realised that’s the life he wants?
I turn onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter around me, my phone just within reach. Waiting. Even though I don’t know what I’m waiting for anymore.
Chapter fifty-eight
freya
I don’t sleep a wink. I drift in and out of something that feels like sleep but isn’t, my brain refusing to fully switch off, replaying the same image over and over again until it feels like it’s burned into the back of my eyelids. I wake up more tired than when I went to bed. My phone is still on the pillow beside me. No missed calls. No messages. My eyes start to sting, which is ridiculous, because last night I was convincing myself I didn’t even want him to call. Now I’m annoyed he didn’t. Make it make sense.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling for a moment, trying to gather myself before the day starts, but my thoughts are already running ahead of me. He’ll call today, and then what? What do I say? “Hi, how was your night giving Cartier bracelets to your ex?”
I let out a short, humourless laugh and sit up, dragging a hand through my hair. No. I’m not doing this over the phone. I need to see him. I need to look at his face when he answers.
My phone buzzes. My heart jumps again, the traitor that it is. Exquisite timing as always, Rory. I roll my eyes. I stare at his name lighting up the screen. Let it ring. Let it ring. I tell myself, forcing myself not to answer it. It stops. Thank God.
The silence that follows feels louder than the ringing. A second later, it lights up again. For fuck’s sake. He’s calling back. Answer it. Just answer it. My brain is now joining my heart on the traitorous side. I watch it ring out again, my thumb hovering uselessly over the screen until it goes dark. Almost immediately, a message comes through.
Rory:You okay?
I swallow.
Rory:I got back late. Fell asleep. Sorry I didn’t call.
