‘I didn’t do much, to my shame,’ Tom confesses. ‘I was based in Italy, competing in Formula BMW, so my dad and sister did the heavy lifting. It killed me, Jules. I couldn’t even talk to her sometimes because of the time difference.’
‘You were a kid. You did what you could.’
At least your dad stepped up.
‘Sometimes I think… it could’ve been different,’ he says.
‘I don’t find hindsight helpful. You do what you can with what you have at the time. No regrets.’
He gives me a cheerless smile.
This is messing with my head. The man’s lost his mum exactly like mine. How can I play him like this? What kind of person does that make me?
I have no choice but to keep moving forward. There are five months until the season ends, that’s nothing in the great scheme of things. I gave up sugar for five months. I mastered tennis stroke mechanics in five months. I dated Brennan for five months. I can do anything, even if it makes my insides crawl.
Chapter 30
TIAGO
‘Santiago, take off your coat,’ Jules growls, folding her arms.
‘It’sfreezing.’ I wipe my shoes on the doormat and kick them off. ‘When’s your summer here?’
‘Now.’
Figures. I scowl out of the nearest window at the pretty tree-lined avenue under a grey blanket so dense, it’s like the sun’s given up trying. Welcome to the UK, huh.
Colombians tell horror stories about this kind of weather. My mom had a cousin way back who apparently caught pneumonia and died from cold weather. We’re a nation traumatised by something most of the population have never seen. Like Americans and universal healthcare.
I follow Jules toward the kitchen, passing neat stacks of PR boxes in the foyer, and reception rooms in warm neutrals with sharp pops of colour. It feels classy but lived in at the same time. I thought it’d be clinical, like a showroom, but it’s not. I mean, minimalist by Latin American standards, where cream isn’t a colour and any room could be improved by a Spanish Jesus. But there’s a book left open, spine up. A charger on a sofa arm. A sweater draped on a chair. Art covers the walls – paintingsof places, fruit, dogs, and feminist phrases. I can only see one reference to tennis and none to any other sport. Interesting.
The kitchen’s white and glass with a vase of pink flowers and huge French doors opening to the yard. There’s an overflowing fruit bowl on the island with just green and red fruits. Spices and oils are in matching containers, facing forward, and it’s not hard to notice they’re alphabetised. This is more what I was expecting. I do, however, notice a rinsed mug on the side, not put away.
I did a little researching about OCD and while Jules doesn’t feverishly wash her hands and her place isn’t perfectly symmetrical, I’m pretty sure she has it. Her compulsive need for control, her insane Type A-ness, her hyper-organisation, her fear of flying, and sometimes I swear I can hear her counting under her breath. I mean, I don’t give a shit if she has it, I just want to understand her better, and if she won’t tell me then I need to fill in the gaps myself.
‘Nice place,’ I say, making myself at home on one of the high stools.
‘Thank you.’
She looks different here. A soft blue cardigan and loose pants, her hair falling down her back in waves. It’s the first time I’ve seen her with her hair down voluntarily, and it steals the breath from my lungs. I watch as she moves lightly around her space, fetching milk from the refrigerator, a spoon from the drawer, perfectly relaxed and unbothered.
‘How many exes have you brought here?’ I ask.
She doesn’t answer immediately. ‘Just Damian.’
‘Thought so,’ I mutter to myself, grateful her back’s to me and she can’t see me grinning to myself like a moron. ‘Cheersfor inviting me.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She smiles as she hands over my cup, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t the loveliest smile I’ve ever seen.
‘Wait, I—er—got you a gift.’ I feel around my pockets.
She pours lemonade into a glass. ‘Don’t be weird. You didn’t need to do that.’
I tut. ‘Not as a— just… Here you go.’
I push the little white box across the island.
‘AirPods?’ She gingerly picks them up like she’s handling nuclear waste.
