He smiles, still easy. “See you at school.”
“See you.”
He walks away, and I stand there for a second, staring at nothing in particular, before going back inside to find Clara. She is already seated when I return, watching me with open curiosity and the faintest smirk like she’s been waiting for the gossip.
“Well?” she says.
“He asked me for coffee.”
“And?” Her eyebrows lift.
“I said no.”
Her face changes, surprise flickering across it. “What? Why?”
I open my mouth with a practical answer prepared. Because I’m busy. Because I need to focus on Theo. Because it’s too soon. None of those feel true enough. Instead I say, “Because I’m still… tangled.”
“With?” Clara asks, although we both know.
I hesitate, the words heavy and stupid in my throat. “With someone who doesn’t seem to be tangled at all.”
Clara leans back slightly, studying me. “He’s pulled back, hasn’t he?” she says gently.
“Yes.” The word leaves before I can dress it up. “He has.” I pick at the cardboard sleeve around my cup. “He doesn’t look at me like that anymore. Not properly. Not like he did at the fair. Or in the pub. It’s like he decided something and shut a door and that’s just it. Feelings gone.”
“And that bothers you?”
I laugh softly, but it isn’t amused. “It makes me wonder if I made it all bigger in my head than it ever was.”
Clara’s expression shifts, something protective coming into it. “You think he never cared?”
“I don’t know.” I stare out of the window, watching cars pass, watching people move. “Maybe it was ego. Maybe he just didn’t like Scott flirting with me. Maybe the almost kiss was nostalgia. And now that we’ve agreed to be friends, he’s relieved.” Saying it out loud feels awful. Because if that’s true, then I have beenbuilding castles out of glances and nearlys. “He hasn’t fought it,” I continue quietly. “He hasn’t slipped. He hasn’t done anything that suggests he’s losing sleep.”
Clara’s mouth twitches slightly. “You don’t know that,” she says.
“I see him every day,” I reply. “He looks… fine.”
That’s the part that stings. He looks fine. So when Ben asked me for coffee just now, I realised something that made my stomach drop. I didn’t say no because I’m not ready. I said no because I’m still waiting for a man who might not be waiting at all.
Clara reaches for my hand again, her fingers warm around mine. “Maybe he’s pretending,” she says quietly.
“Maybe,” I concede. Or maybe he isn’t. And maybe the person who is most tangled in this is me.
Chapter thirty-five
Freya
Theo has packed three times already. Not because he needs that much stuff, but because he keeps remembering one more essential item that he cannot survive four days in Wales without. First it was his torch. Then his “survival whistle.” Then, for reasons that remain unclear, a plastic dinosaur he claims is “moral support.”
“I don’t think you need Gary the T-Rex,” I say gently, folding yet another pair of socks into the holdall.
Theo gasps like I’ve suggested abandoning him at the motorway services. “Mum. It’s wilderness. What if people feel home-sick and need a boost?”
“Of course,” I nod solemnly. “How foolish of me.”
I check the list again even though I know it by heart. Waterproofs. Spare trainers. Sleeping bag. Extra batteries. Snacks I’ve labelled even though no one asked me to. I am, unfortunately, incapable of doing anything by halves when it comes to my child.
Theo launches himself at me in a sudden hug, arms tight around my waist. “It’s going to be the best trip ever,” he says into my jumper, voice vibrating with excitement. “We get tents and fires and actual knives.”
