Chapter Thirty-Nine
Gabi
The smell of the apple crumble, freshly baked and still warm, packaged in her bag was making Gabi’s mouth water as she swung her way along the pavement to Rosie’s house the next day. But she figured, if she was going to eat humble pie, it might as well be a tasty one.
She’d woken that morning with Walker’s face imprinted on her eyelids and a very bad hangover.
This was precisely why she didn’t normally drink very much.
She’d been up a full five minutes swearing about him to Amber in the kitchen before she conceded that riding a rodeo with an injured leg was probably not her smartest move of all time.
But that did not – did not – give him the right to tell her she couldn’t form relationships – again.
She must be able to, because she felt a twinge of guilt every time she thought of what she’d said to Rosie and knew he was right – goddammit – she’d have to apologise.
She’d begged Amber for a recipe, an easy one as she didn’t normally bake, swallowed some painkillers and got to work.
She didn’t really cook at all. Usually it was fully catered on set, and she’d order takeaways if she was at home. There wasn’t much point in cooking for one; it always felt a bit sad. She’d felt a prick of pride when she pulled the crumble from the oven and Jayden gave her a thumbs up.
Wren answered the door, looking mildly green and massively pissed off when she saw who it was on the step. Great, so Rosie had really taken her words to heart and shared them with Wren.
After a stiff greeting, Wren walked her through the house to the kitchen at the back, where Rosie was sitting at the island reading a book, oversized glasses propped right on the end of her nose. She peered at Gabi before carefully marking her place with a bookmark and closing her book.
‘Rosie, I’m so sorry for what I said about Toby.’ Gabi held out the cake tin and came straight on out with it. No point hanging about. ‘I was a dick.’ Rosie considered her for a moment and then nodded.
‘I have no experience of dicks,’ she said with a smile, ‘but that smells a whole lot like pie.’
Gabi was taken aback when Rosie stood up, wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close for a hug. Just like that, she was forgiven. She breathed Rosie in and some of her tension fell away.
‘Where’s Riley?’ Gabi asked as Rosie cut slices of crumble and pulled out cream from the fridge. ‘Is she any better?’
‘At her dad’s,’ Rosie replied. ‘He took the day off work and came and collected her this morning. He said he could have a sofa day with her.’
Gabi dropped her head, embarrassed.
‘I really am sorry,’ she said. ‘Toby sounds like a great dad.’
‘He is.’ Rosie grinned.
‘You’re very lucky,’ Gabi said and was surprised to feel tears suddenly fill her eyes, and then roll down her cheeks, and for the second time in two minutes she was enfolded in Rosie’s home-knitted cardigan.
‘I’m so sorry I took everything out on you,’ she stammered. ‘I was just upset because my dad texted me yesterday.’ She slumped on the sofa, thinking that yes, that was partly what was upsetting her.
Rosie looked confused. ‘Wouldn’t you be upset when he doesn’t text you, rather than when he does?’
‘It’s because every month, it’s the same,’ Gabi sniffed. She held out her phone and scrolled through the chat history. The same questions and answers on repeat. Always on the first of every month. Rosie scrolled in amazement. In a matter of seconds, she’d covered the past few years.
‘You never tell him anything?’ Rosie asked, looking up from the screen. ‘About your life?’
‘He never asks me anything!’ Gabi threw back.
‘But he asks every month . . .’ Rosie said, pointing at her dad’s words each time.
‘He doesn’t really want to know, though,’ Gabi said. ‘We haven’t really had a relationship since my mum left.’
‘He’s doing a good job of hanging in there.
’ Rosie shrugged and handed the phone back.
Gabi looked at it in confusion and then back at Rosie, as if they were looking at two entirely different things.
Rosie continued, ‘You know, Gabs, just because you haven’t had a relationship since you were a child doesn’t mean you can’t have one as an adult. ’
Gabi sighed and sat back. Walker had said something very similar.
‘Up to you, of course.’ Rosie stood to pass out the pie, and make them coffee. She put her hand on Gabi’s shoulder as she passed. ‘It’s your relationship.’
Gabi stared at the chat history again, seeing it through Rosie’s eyes. And Walker’s. Scrolling back through months and then years, decades even. Seeing how many times her dad had actually asked how she was, and she had cut him dead with her reply.