Page 104

“Ew, is that like a sexual thing?” Taylor looks horrified as she jangles the key to her locker.

“No, he’s good in the garden.” I lock my own locker with a little more ease than Taylor, then lean against it.

“Again, could be referring to sex in the garden.”

“No, I mean he’s good at gardening, like plants and stuff.”

“Okay….” Taylor elongates the word, then continues. “But I still have no idea who you’re talking about because I don’t know anyone who ticks all those boxes. Unless you mean….” She glares at me, and I know she’s thinking it through, seeing if it works. “You don’t mean…? Surely not?” She slaps her hand over her mouth, but I can see the smile behind it.

“Owen.” I confirm her thoughts.

“Shit, no!” She places her hand on her waist and then back to her mouth. “Really?”

“Is it really so unbelievable?”

“No. I mean, yes. I just can’t picture it.” She shakes her head.

“Erm, please don’t picture it.”

“No, not like that. I mean, I can’t picture him talking to anyone, let alone doing other things. Wait, you guys haven’t done this as part of Operation Wedding, have you? There’s pretending to be someone’s date, but that takes the ‘getting to know each other’ a little too far, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, this was all real, I can assure you. And we don’t have to fake-date now for the wedding as we are actually dating.” My chest buzzes as the words leave my mouth.

“Get out of here!” Taylor’s eyes are wide, her mouth matching them. “Well, I’ll be damned. Who would’ve thought—Mr Grumpy Pants and Ms Talk-a-lot?”

“I don’t talk a lot.”

Taylor arches her brow.

“Okay, maybe I do.”

“And here you were only a few weeks ago telling me you were swearing off men, never to return to the land of dating, signing yourself up to join the convent. Those were your exact words,” she reminds me.

“I know, but things change. And he’s so nice, and I like him a lot, and I like spending time with him, and he makes me laugh⁠—”

“Owen makes you laugh?” Taylor cuts me off.

“Under the grumpy exterior, there’s a very dry sense of humour which I find very funny.”

“Well, I’m pleased for you and for Owen, especially after the week he’s had. Hey….” Taylor spins around. “You don’t think you’re just a grief fuck, do you?”

My smile drops. “A what?”

“You know, like he’s grieving after the loss of his dog, so he’s just feeling lonely, and all his emotions are a mess and whatnot.”

“Oh.” My stomach plummets. I hadn’t thought about that.

“I’m sure it isn’t.” Taylor must see what she’s done as she pats my arm. “Owen doesn’t strike me as a kind of knee-jerk-reaction guy. He’s very methodical and doesn’t act on instinct. I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

I want to come back with a smutty remark about him knowing exactly what he was doing last night, but the seed of doubt Taylor has sown is bedding in. What if she’s right? It’s been so long since I’ve felt this excited about a relationship, I’m not sure how I should be feeling, because in the past, they’ve always ended, always finished, always broken down. What if this happens with Owen? Taylor is right, he’s not a knee-jerk-reaction kind of guy, but he’s grieving. People behave differently when they’re suffering from loss. Look at Sydney.

I know I’m being ridiculous, that my train of thought is just running away with me yet again, but I can’t help thinking that Taylor’s seed of doubt just needs some water and time, and it might begin to grow.

58

Alice

The Haycroft kitchen is one of my least favourites: ultra-modern blue gloss units with no handles, all clean lines and absolutely no character. But it’s a good place to be alone with your thoughts, which is where I’ve been for most of the day after my conversation with Taylor.