“I really miss you...”
A smile spread across her face.
“...at work. So I was wondering if you’d consider coming back and helping out again?”
Libby felt her whole body deflate, as if someone had pricked her like a balloon. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“I realize this might seem a weird thing to ask, given I’m the one who wants this time apart. But things have been crazy in the past few weeks and I’m so behind on e-mails and invoices and the diary is all over the place without you here to organize things. I feel like I’m drowning.”
Libby was listening to him, but Simon’s words made no sense; it was like he was speaking another language.
“I’ve thought it all through,” Simon continued, oblivious to Libby spiraling on the other end of the phone. “I can set you up with remote access to the server and divert the office phone to your mobile. That way you can work from your sister’s place, and we won’t have to physically see each other.”
He stopped talking, waiting for her to reply, but Libby still couldn’t formulate any proper thoughts, let alone sentences.
“Libs, are you still there?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think of the idea?”
“I don’t know... I thought...” She trailed off.
“Oh, no,” Simon said, and she heard the realization in his voice. “You thought that... Oh, shit, I’m so sorry. You thought... No, I’m sorry, Libs, but I still need more time apart. I feel like I’m only just starting to get to know myself again and—”
“I get it,” Libby interrupted.
“You’re amazing. You really are. But I feel like we were so young when we got together, and we rushed into a relationship so fast. I just really want to be sure what’s right for me, because I think that maybe—”
“Good-bye, Simon.” Libby tried to hang up, but her fingers were shaking too much, so she threw the phone onto the floor and pulled the duvet over her head as she let out a silent scream.
•••
TWENTYminutes later, Libby came downstairs to find her family gathered in the kitchen, sipping champagne from long-stemmed flutes. She hadn’t had time to shower, but she’d put on some mascara and the smartest top she’d brought with her. However, as she walked into the room and they all stopped talking and turned to stare at her, Libby had a sudden urge to run upstairs, slam the door shut, and hide in her bedroom.
“At last, there you are.” Her mum, Pauline, looking as elegant as ever in skinny jeans and a silk blouse, stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. As she did, Libby was overpowered by the smell of Chanel No. 5. “Are you all right, Elizabeth? You look unwell.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Libby walked over to the kettle, but Pauline followed.
“How have you been finding things, darling?”
“All right.”
“Any word from Simon?”
Here it was already. “Not yet, no.”
“Really? What do your friends say? One of them must know what’s going on with him.”
Libby busied herself finding a tea bag. The truth was she still hadn’t spoken to any of her friends back home. She’d hoped one of them might have reached out to her by now, checking in that she was okay, but she hadn’t heard a thing. It seemed that everyone had already picked a side, and Simon had been the winner.
“Have you tried contacting him?” Pauline said.
“No, Mum.”
“Well, I think maybe it’s time you did. We all thought he’dhave come begging by now, but perhaps you’ll need to give him a little nudge? You don’t want him to get too comfortable without you.”
“How have you and Dad been?” Libby said, keen to move the conversation on.
