He rolls off me, and I feel a moment of pure frustration. He sits up on the side of the bed, and grabs hold of his phone. His hair is wild and tangled, his skin smooth apart from the scars where he’s suffered for his art. I smile, and enjoy the view.
‘Oh for feck’s sake…’ he mutters, sounding annoyed. He jumps up, and grabs his jeans. He tries to put them on while he’s standing, and does an amusing hopping-falling routine around the room as he tugs them up. His T-shirt gets slung on next, and he runs his hands through his hair.
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask, not understanding what’s going on. A sudden worry springs into my mind, and I add: ‘It’s not about Moira is it?’
He taps out a message, and sits down next to me. He leans down and kisses my forehead, and smooths my hair away from my face. ‘No, don’t worry. It’s… shit, there’s no simple way to say this, but it’s Catrina.’
I stare up at him in surprise, my brain trying to catch up. I frown, and he looks sheepish.
‘Catrina,’ I repeat slowly. ‘Catrina your friend with benefits? What’s she doing here?’
‘I’m not really sure. We messaged ages ago, and she said she’d be back in the UK and wanted to see me. I think… yeah, okay, I suppose I told her she could just drop in whenever she wanted.’
‘And she didn’t warn you it would be today?’
He grimaces. ‘Apparently, yes. But it was very late last night, and I was busy with other things – I didn’t check my phone until now. She has family in this neck of the woods, and I’d guess she’s visited them overnight and then decided late that she might call in on the off chance… God, I feel awful – I’m so sorry! Obviously I didn’t have any idea all of this was going to happen…’
He looks dreadful, full of remorse. Part of me – the unreasonable and insecure part of me – is upset. His other woman, right on the doorstep, the morning after he told me he loved me? That’s not ideal by anybody’s standards. But… but he didn’t know any of this was going to evolve like this, and neither did I. It’s not like he was planning on a quick turnaround, shunting one partner into his bed as soon as the other had left. This has caught us both unawares.
‘Say something, please, Jane,’ he pleads, reaching out to hold my hand. ‘Don’t let this mess things up for us! It’s a stupid misunderstanding, nothing more. Bad timing, but nothing morethan that, honestly. Catrina and I… it’s never been anything serious. It’s always been casual. I haven’t even seen her for almost six months now!’
I can hear the raw pain in his voice, see his obvious concern. I hate that he is suffering, but am also a tiny bit pleased to see how much this means to him.
‘It’s okay, Rory,’ I tell him, sitting up and giving him a hug. I kiss him, on the lips, for a good long time. Just to reassure him. ‘I get it. It’s not going to change anything. Now, go downstairs and talk to your ex. You can start by telling her she’s your ex.’
There’s a bit of a growl in my voice that I didn’t expect, and it makes him smile. He holds my face between his palms, and kisses me again. ‘You sound possessive. I think I like it. And she can’t be my ex, she was never my… current. We always just had an agreement.’
He takes another look at my face, at my frown, and nods. ‘Yeah. Of course I will tell her exactly that, yes. And thanks for being so understanding – you can punish me later. But for now, I’d better go see her. Maybe… well, maybe you can meet her? She’s nice. Or is that too weird?’
Is it? I ask myself. I can’t deny I’m curious. I also have a newfound confidence in myself as a woman, as Rory’s woman, that is making me brave.
‘Possibly. We’ll see. Now scoot. Go sort this out.’
He nods, and walks towards the door. He pauses as he reaches it, and looks back at me. I’m naked, and his eyes roam my body appreciatively.
‘I bloody love you, you know?’ he asks, grinning.
‘I know,’ I reply simply, smiling back. I’m finally starting to believe it. Finally starting to believe that not only does this man love me, but that I deserve that love. I deserve this happiness.
I hear him gallop down the stairs, the sound of the door opening. The low rumble of conversation, but no distinct words.
I didn’t really think this one through, I realise… how long will they be there? Will he take her out somewhere, or will I be trapped upstairs, go allJane Eyre? The mad woman in the attic?
I trust him, but it’s a strange situation. I’m sure Rory can charm his way out of it, and I hope Catrina’s not too upset. I cast my mind back over what I know about her – she’s an artist and a curator, from Edinburgh, but she’s been based in Prague running a gallery there. All of that alone would have been enough to make me hate her a few weeks ago, but now? Now I don’t. Probably because I don’t hate myself, and my small, boring life any more.
I stretch out on the bed, luxuriating in the space, smiling at the memories of the night before. It was real. It was serious. It was the very opposite of casual. I can’t see into the future, and there is a lot to discuss, but for now I have faith that everything will work out for us. Faith that we will break the curse of Romeo and his Juliet, and live a long and happy life together. Just like we were always meant to.
I will talk things over with him today, once this little drama is sorted, and we will decide what to do. We will come up with a plan together. There are options – he said last night that he would come back down to Watford with me if I wanted. The thought of Rory living in my little suburban semi seems very wrong – like keeping a wild animal in a tiny cage and seeing how long it takes for it to go crazy – but it’s nice he offered.
I could go back there, and we could try long distance. There are flights from London to Aberdeen. We could make it happen. Or… or I could stay, I think, looking at the pale sunlight coming in through the window. Imagining the view down to the bay. Picturing the bookshop, and the beach, and all of my new friends. Remembering how happy Beth was here as well – how keen she was on the idea of us staying.
Why would I leave? I hate my job. I could sell my house, make a break for freedom… the more I think about it, the more right it feels. The more committed I am. The more the idea of going back to work for John Marshall, of commuting, of waking up to the sound of the Tesco delivery vans, feels hideous.
No. I will stay here. Beth will enjoy her new life, and if she does go to the University of Edinburgh, it will be easier to see her. As for me – well, I suddenly feel like the world is mine for the taking. I will paint. I will find work I can do from home. I will help Moira at the bookshop, and I will babysit Alice, and I will continue to build a place for myself here in this community. I will be with Rory, and we will be happy… or I will at least try.
I’m lying on the bed with a big stupid grin on my face now. It all feels so good, like everything is finally right – all the pieces are in place.
I sigh, and snuggle up on his side of the bed, shamelessly sniffing the pillowcase for a trace of his shampoo. The door to the room opens, and I look up guiltily – caught in the act of worshipping the very pillow he sleeps on. Mildly embarrassing.
