The One We Fell in Love With (23 page)

A few minutes later, we’re inside my apartment and I’m closing the door behind him.

‘Michelle’s staying at her boyfriend’s tonight,’ I say hesitantly.

He nods, taking my hands. We stand, staring at each other for a long moment. I still feel guilty. I can’t help it. I just hope it doesn’t eat me up.

I make the tiniest jerk of my head in the direction of my bedroom. He gives me the smallest nod in return.

We’re both uneasy as we stand at the foot of my bed. I slide my arms around his waist, my hands skimming over the taut body underneath his T-shirt. He used to swim to keep fit. I’m
guessing he still does.

He’s so manly, so different to the boy I kissed almost a decade ago. And the way he was with me last night... That was very different from our heated fumblings as teenagers, too. But then
I remember that the experience he has garnered over the years is down to Phoebe, and an unpleasant cold flush comes over me.

‘Wait,’ I whisper as his lips touch my jaw.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I can’t— I’m thinking.’

The look on his face as he steps away from me is one of weary resignation. He knew this was going to happen.

‘Come on,’ he says quietly, taking my hand and walking towards the door.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask, confused.

‘To the living room. We’re just going to talk.’

‘Really?’ I pull a face as I hurry after him.

He tugs me down to one of the sofas, bringing me close so I’m nestled against his body with his arms around my waist. I can’t see his face, but I can feel his chest vibrating as he
speaks.

‘Maybe we should slow this down,’ he says gently. ‘I don’t want to screw it up.’

‘But we’ve already had sex,’ I say a touch indignantly, tensing under his fingers.

‘I know. We were drunk.’

I blush, and now I’m glad he’s not looking at me.

‘But the next time we go to bed together,’ he continues, ‘I think we should be sober, and we both need to be totally okay about it.’

Now the urge to look at him is too great. ‘Are
you
not okay with it?’ I’m suddenly fearful as I twist round to look at him.

He pushes a strand of hair back from my face, staring at my forehead instead of my eyes.

‘No, I can tell that you’re not.’ My voice wavers.

‘Not completely,’ he whispers, pulling me back against his chest. ‘But I will be. I promise I will be.’

By now there’s a lump in my throat. ‘It
was
too soon.’

‘Maybe. But it felt right. I don’t want you to have any regrets.’

‘I don’t,’ I reply. ‘Do you?’

‘Not at all,’ he replies firmly, drawing me tighter. ‘I’ve loved you for a long time.’

We both fall silent, but my mind is ticking over ten to the dozen.

Eventually I ask the question that’s on my lips. ‘How could you love Phoebe and me at the same time? I don’t understand.’

‘See, this is why we need to do this,’ he says as I turn to face him again. I edge away slightly from him on the sofa. He meets my gaze apprehensively. ‘There’s so much
we haven’t talked about.’

I know he’s right. This is going to eat away at me if we don’t get it out in the open. Jealousy is an even more powerful emotion than guilt.

‘Phoebe and I got serious so quickly,’ he says, reaching over to take one of my hands. ‘It’s surprising, when I think about it in hindsight. Living next door to each
other escalated things, but I was always curious about you.’

‘Not Rose?’

‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘It was different with Rose. I liked her a lot, but I didn’t feel drawn to her in the same way that I did with you.’

‘You and I barely even spoke,’ I say with a frown. ‘Not until the evening that you threw that ball of paper into my room.’

He smiles.

‘I kept the piece of paper,’ I tell him.

‘Did you?’ he asks with surprise.

‘I put it in my diary, the one that Rose stole,’ I reveal bitterly. ‘Did you know that she read about what we did in the tree house?’

His eyebrows jump up. ‘No.’

‘We had a massive row about it.’

‘But surely you’ve forgiven her now, right?’ he asks, perplexed. ‘That can’t be why you’ve fallen out for so long?’

‘No,’ I reply with a sigh. ‘Rose and I have always rubbed each other up the wrong way. That argument was a long time coming. But now she just reminds me of Phoebe. It’s
easier for us both if we stay away from each other.’

Angus gives me a dejected smile and squeezes my hand. I slide closer and rest my face against his chest as his arm comes around me. We stay like that for a long time.

Rose

Holy Mother of God, my
head
!

Urgh, and my stomach...

I make it to the toilet in time to heave into it. Why do people
do
this to themselves? How the hell am I supposed to go to work today?

I’m an hour late by the time I make it in, donning dark sunglasses.

‘Afternoon,’ Toby says wryly, handing over a loaf of bread to a customer as the door swings shut behind me. I open it back up for the customer.

‘Don’t you be smart with me, young man,’ I berate him when we’re alone. I walk around behind the counter.

‘I’m back to being a young man, am I?’ He hooks his thumbs through his belt loops and regards me with amusement. ‘Last night I was
older than my years
,’ he
teases.

‘Did I say that?’

‘Don’t you remember?’ His brow furrows.

‘I don’t remember much,’ I admit.

‘Shame,’ he says flippantly as he turns around to empty the coffee machine. ‘It was a good night.’

I pop my sunglasses on top of my head. ‘It
was
a good night, wasn’t it?’ I nod my head agreeably. The action makes it throb so I decide not to do that again.

‘Coffee?’ he asks.

‘Yes, please.’

‘How much water have you had to drink today?’ He glances over his shoulder at me.

‘Not much.’

‘Go and down a glass.’ He nods towards the bakery.

‘Aah, I remember now,’ I say good-naturedly. ‘You
are
older than your years!’

He shrugs. ‘My dad used to have a drinking problem.’

‘Oh.’ The humour leaves my face.

‘It’s not so bad any more,’ he explains. ‘But it still gets the better of him sometimes.’

‘Sorry. That sucks.’ I’m now lost for words.

‘Water,’ he says, nodding at the bakery door again.

I decide to just go ahead and follow his instructions.

Over the course of the morning, fragments of the night before start to slot into place. The first comes when I catch sight of the flier in my handbag. I remember the man behind the bar mistaking
me for Eliza and me hiding away. Then I got chatted up by some random bloke, getting the giggles when he thought Toby and I were a couple. And I remember standing outside Eliza’s restaurant
and telling Toby that she’d have the hots for him if he were a bit older. And then, oh God... What was it that I said?
That I liked him and thought he’d be a really good catch for
someone one day!

Argh!

A hot flush comes over me as I surreptitiously study him. I’m clearing a table in the café area and he’s standing behind the counter staring straight ahead. He looks like
he’s in a bit of a daze, but then he glances over at me and I jolt to my senses, hastily getting on with clearing the table.

I acted very immaturely last night. For the rest of the day, I decide I’d better do my darndest to make up for it.

At four forty-five, our last customers have left. We close at five, but it’s unlikely anyone else will come in this late in the day.

‘You should go home and see your mother,’ I say, adopting a tone of authority. She came out of the hospital today. ‘I can lock up.’

‘No, I want to get the starter ready and prep tonight’s ingredients. Dad’ll be knackered.’

‘In that case, I’ll help,’ I say.

‘It’s alright. You look like you need your bed.’

I ignore him, heading into the bakery. A moment later, he joins me, looking confused at the sight of me putting on my apron instead of gathering my belongings.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks.

‘I’ll toast the nuts and seeds. You do the starter.’

He stares at me for a long moment. ‘I said I can manage.’

‘It’s fine.’ I flounce over to the cupboard and get out the stack of Tupperware containers containing the seeds, putting them on the counter and returning to retrieve the
nuts.

I hear him sigh, but by the time I turn back around, he’s already getting the jar of ‘mother’ out of the fridge.

‘I don’t know how your dad bakes on his own every night,’ I say, as I sprinkle pumpkin seeds into one frying pan and poppy seeds into another. ‘I think I’m still
recovering from last Friday night.’

‘Yeah, these next few weeks are going to be tough,’ he agrees heavily.

‘Maybe we should get someone else in,’ I suggest. ‘What are we going to do about the cakes?’

‘I don’t know, Rose,’ he snaps, sounding frustrated.

I stare at him with surprise. ‘Are you alright?’ I ask with concern.

‘Just... Quit mothering me. I don’t need it.’

I feel a little sick as I stare back at him. ‘I—’

‘You’re burning the seeds!’ He storms over to the hob and I flinch and jump out of his way as he switches off the gas. I roughly drag my apron over my head and dump it on the
worktop, grabbing my bag on my way out the door.

‘ROSE!’ I hear him call after me, but I’m already gone.

‘Am I a mug?’ I ask Angus later. I’m sitting half in, half out of the balcony door, staring at the rain. He’s just walked in from work.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asks, coming over. He looks weary.

‘Do you think I am?’ I ask outright. ‘Dad always used to say I was a giver, not a taker. But did he just mean that I’m a mug?’

‘Of course not,’ he scoffs. ‘Being a good person doesn’t make you an idiot.’

‘Hmm,’ I say, looking back out at the rain.

‘What’s this about?’ he asks with a sigh, pulling up a chair and slumping into it. ‘What’s brought this on?’

‘Just something Toby said,’ I mumble. ‘I’ve been trying to help him, but I don’t know, maybe I’m overstepping the mark. I’m not sure he wants my
help.’

‘Well, that makes
him
the mug,’ Angus says irately. ‘You going into work like that in the middle of the night. I still can’t believe you did that. He’s
bloody lucky and if he doesn’t know it, then maybe I’ll go in there and tell him myself.’

This makes me smile.

‘You’re not a mug, Rosie,’ he says definitively. ‘Now, what have you cooked for my dinner?’

I whack him on his chest and he laughs.

‘Seriously, though,’ he says, getting to his feet and going to the fridge. ‘I don’t think we have much in. Shall we get a takeaway?’

‘Sure. I’ve got my appetite back now.’

‘Where did it go?’ he asks curiously as he opens the drawer for the takeaway menus and passes over a stack.

‘I was pretty hungover earlier.’

‘Were you? On a Tuesday?’ He looks interested. ‘What did you get up to last night?’

‘Oh!’ I remember what I was going to tell him. ‘Toby and I went to see a band at this place called
Elvis & Joe’s
in the Northern Quarter. Do you know
it?’

‘Er, yeah,’ he calls after me as I march back into the hall to retrieve my bag.

I return with the flier. ‘Look who has a gig there in a couple of weeks.’

I watch his face as I pass it over. Sure enough, his right eyebrow twitches.

Despite what I said on the doorstep that day we found out about Phoebe, I no longer believe that Angus and Eliza were having an affair. Eliza is nowhere near a good enough actress to pull off
her reaction to my accusation, so whatever history they had I’m certain is behind them. I’ll put Angus’s eyebrow Tourette’s down to that. ‘The man there asked me to
give this to her,’ I continue. ‘I’m seeing Mum in the next couple of days – she can pass it on.’

‘Wow,’ he says quietly, studying Eliza’s image.

I swallow and fold my arms in front of my chest. ‘I was wondering if maybe, I don’t know, maybe we should go.’

He glances up at me quickly.

‘Don’t you miss her?’ I ask.

‘Do you?’ he replies carefully.

I nod slightly.

The truth is, I’ve been missing Eliza for a while, now, ever since I read Phoebe’s comments about us in her diary. I’ve always thought that Eliza considered me dull and boring.
I thought that our personalities clashed and there was nothing we could do about it. I didn’t really consider that I had been incredibly mean to her, growing up, and it had come from a place
of jealousy and insecurity. It’s hardly surprising that her resentment towards me built in return, and no doubt intensified in the years that I grew so close to Phoebe and Angus. If I put
myself in her shoes, I know I would have found that unbearable.

I don’t go into all of this with Angus, though. I’m still trying to come to terms with it myself.

‘I do, a little,’ I tell him. ‘After the gig, Toby and I were going to get something to eat and we saw a restaurant called
Roxy’s.
She was inside
waitressing.’

‘Oh, right,’ he says.

‘I’d forgotten that she’d left
Mario’s
.’

Angus puts down the flier suddenly and gives me a beseeching look. ‘Why don’t you call her? Don’t just turn up at her gig. You’ve got a lot to talk about.’

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I just thought maybe it would be a small step in the right direction.’ I’ve never been very supportive of Eliza and her music. I want
to make up for it. ‘Don’t worry if you don’t want to go.’

‘It’s not that,’ he says. ‘But God, Rose, this must be killing your mother. To lose one daughter and then have the others—’

‘You don’t have to spell it out, Angus, I know,’ I say coldly. ‘It’s not like I want to be estranged from Eliza. Losing Phoebe was hard enough...’ Tears
spring up in my eyes and he pulls me towards him with a heavy sigh.

I bury my face against his collarbone, breathing in his familiar aftershave and trying to stave off my tears. Angus has always given the best hugs.

‘It’ll be okay,’ he murmurs, rocking me comfortingly.