Why am I holding on?
I have to find a way to stop holding on.
Complicated feelings for Matthew aside, I wouldn’t even know how to go about dating. There I was telling Dad to get back out there, as though it were no big deal. What was I thinking? It’sterrifying.
I pick up my phone and call Ruby.
“Miss us already?” she says as she picks up.
“I don’t know how to date.”
“What?”
“You know what you were saying earlier about me dating?”
“Yeah?”
“If I did feel ready, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. What would I do? How do you date?”
“Hang on, let me put you on speaker,” she says, then after a pause, “Okay, Leo’s here, too. It’s Freya, Leo.”
“Hey, Freya,” he calls out.
“I don’t know how to date,” I repeat.
“Everyone knows how to date,” Leo says, seemingly unsurprised by my question. “You go meet someone, chat about stuff, that’s it.”
“You’ve made it sound very simple.” I sigh. “It’s a lot more than that. First you actually have to meet a person you even want to get to know further. Then you have to work out if there’s a connection, if there’s any frisson between you. All that riding on a drink or two at a pub? That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Exciting pressure, though,” Ruby says enthusiastically.
“I’m not sure I’m capable of any frisson with anyone but Matthew,” I admit, closing my eyes and resting my head back against my pillow.
“The word ‘frisson’ is quite weird when you think about it,” Leo says helpfully.
“Look how far you’ve come!” Ruby insists. “A few weeks after the breakup, you told me that you’d never even watch a love story again. Now, look at you! Kissing hot French men by the pool like you’re the star of your very own rom-com!”
“I don’t feel like the star of my very own rom-com.”
“The point is,” she continues, “I bet you never thought you’d be ready to feel up some random guy’s stone-hard abs and pinch-perfect bum in France, but here we are.”
“I want to know if those descriptions were Freya’s or yours,” Leo mutters in the background. “I don’t remember her ever saying that bum was pinch-perfect.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I bite my lip. “I just can’t imagine dating anyone else. Establishing that kind of intimacy? It seems impossible. How can I ever trust anyone again?”
“You’ll learn,” Ruby assures me. “And with the right person, you’ll want to.”
“I don’t know,” I croak, before admitting something I’ve been thinking, but haven’t wanted to say out loud, because it makesthe fear even more real. “I’m scared I’ll never really believe anyone if they say they love me.”
He’s late.
There we all are, boarded on the plane, ready to set off, and guess who is the last person to come barreling down the aisle? Jamie. Of course.
Everyone stares at him. This is why I’m early for flights. How is he not shuddering under the gaze of every single person on this plane? He casually makes his way down the middle, his bag slung round his shoulder. He spots me and smiles, saying “Hey,” as he passes before taking a seat a couple of rows behind. I glance back as he puts his bag up into the overhead locker before plonking himself down in his aisle seat.
I face front, putting my headphones on, ready for takeoff. I’m not surprised we’re on the same flight to Dublin. A lot of the wedding party are on this plane. I saw them greeting each other at the gate and overheard them mention Niamh and Freddie. I considered introducing myself, but then thought if I did that, I might have to make small talk with them on the flight, and actually I’d rather sit back, relax, and—
“Excuse me.”
