2. Megan
Chapter 2
Megan
Hattie is singing along to the radio and clearing her stuff out of the fridge when Rob arrives, so I answer the door and force a smile. Nothing gets past Rob, though. He takes one look at me and wraps me in a giant bear hug.
“Thank you, Megan,” he says, squeezing me tighter.
“For what?”
“For looking after my girl for so long. For being such a good friend. For being OK with this. I’m sorry my gain is at your expense.”
“It’s OK,” I squeak, trying not to cry when he lets go. “I’m really happy for you both. Congratulations.”
“Hey, you want to move in with us?” he teases as he follows me through the narrow hallway to the living room. “We have a spare room.”
We.
He's already talking like they've lived together for ages, and I can’t think of anything worse than having these two rub their relationship in my face.
I pack up Hattie’s toiletries so I don’t have to witness their joy, and soon the three of us are loading the car in silence. Rob drives back and forth between houses while Hattie keeps packing, but after the second run, we’re down to the last few boxes. Most of the stuff is mine anyway, it seems, and there’s no need for Hattie to take any furniture with her when Rob’s place has everything already.
All the trinkets, candles, and pieces of artwork Kara gifted to both of us. She's leaving them all behind.
“What shall we do with Paul?” I ask, pointing to the frame on the shelf above the television. Hattie tore a picture of a young Paul Newman from a magazine years ago when we drunkenly agreed he was the hottest man on the planet. We’ve joked so many times that he’s our boyfriend, and only now do I see how pathetic that is for a woman in her thirties to be fawning over a celebrity who’s long since passed.
“You keep him, babe. He belongs here.” I’d let her take it all if she asked, but I’m grateful she doesn’t.
The winter sun is setting by the time she packs the last bag, and the three of us hover awkwardly around the front door.
“Do you want this back?” Hattie says, holding her keys in her open palm. I blink back tears.
“No, you keep it. Just in case.”
“I’ll still be here all the time, I bet,” she jokes.
You won't. You're barely here now.
“You know how much he annoys me.”
“I’m right here,” Rob laughs, taking Hattie’s last bag from her shoulder and pressing a kiss against her hair. “I’ll give you two a minute. See you soon Megs.”
Hattie and I watch him disappear through the door at the end of the hallway, then stare at each other. It hurts so much I have to look away. Can’t we just go back to this morning and pretend none of this is happening?
She closes the gap, and we hug each other tight on opposite sides of the doorway. I should make a speech. Say something profound about our time together, and what she means to me.
“I love you,” I whisper. That's all I can think of.
“I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow, OK? And we’ll still talk every day, I promise. You’re never getting rid of me.”
“Never ever.” I close the door so I don’t have to see her face if she looks back. It would be worse if she didn’t.
The thought of seeing her empty room is too much to bear, so I pull the door closed and curl up in a ball on my end of the sofa. I guess both ends are mine now.
I always assumed that, given Hattie's anti-relationship stance and my deeply pathetic desire to be swept off my feet, I'd be the first one to move out.
The lump in my throat thickens, and I try to remember what I had planned for my day. It certainly wasn’t this. Hot tears prick at my eyelashes and my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I wipe my eyes and sit up straight before answering the video call, bending my knees so I can rest the phone on a cushion on my lap.
“Happy New Year!” Kara beams, looking cute in her bright pink pyjamas. She’s probably had a lovely lazy day, having lazy day sex with her gorgeous husband like newlyweds do. “We missed you last night. Did you have a good one?”
“It was lovely, thanks. Very productive.” Yes, I’m sure that’s how I felt. Though for the life of me, I can’t remember any of it now.
“What are you up to?” she asks.
“Oh nothing. What’s up?”
“Luke wants to know if he can cook lunch for the three of us after the spa tomorrow.”
My heart aches. The three of us used to be such a team. Best friends in school, always together, and we never had to navigate that tricky three’s a crowd dynamic that tests so many friendships. We went our separate ways for university but all ended up back in the same town we grew up in and have been inseparable ever since. Even closer, since Kara’s awful ex left her without warning.
Hattie and I spent every Friday night for a year trying to cheer her up with takeout, wine, and romcoms. Then Luke opened Sunshine Coffee in town, they fell in love, and were married within a year. Not long after that, Hattie ended up dating Luke’s friend, Rob, so our threesome became a fivesome, and girls' nights became couples' nights, with me tagging along as the awkward fifth wheel.
I’d never expect them to choose me over their partners, but I miss us . I can’t even remember the last time we hung out without the guys.
“Megs? Is everything OK?”
“Hattie’s moving in with Rob,” I blurt out.
“What?”
“Well, moved in, actually. She’s just gone.”
“Hattie Buchanan? Our Hattie?”
“Yep.”
“Wow,” she says. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“I shouldn’t have told you that. Forget I said anything and let them tell you the story.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Oh goodness no, please don’t. I’m fine. Honestly.” If there’s one thing I cannot bear, it’s people going out of their way to do things for me.
“Megan, you know what it was like when Adam left me. I couldn’t sleep alone.” She was understandably distraught. Hattie and I stayed for a week.
“This isn’t the same.”
“I know it’s not, but you’ve lived with Hattie longer than I lived with him. It’ll feel strange being there on your own. If you won’t let me come over, then will you at least come and stay with us? I’ll send Luke to pick you up.”
Another pity invite. They think I’m desperate and pathetic.
What hurts most is that they’re right. I'm not good at being on my own. I enjoy being part of a couple, a team. I like having someone who I can look after, and who looks after me.
That all changes now, and I’d better get used to it. If I want this year to go my way, then I need to act like the strong, confident, and capable woman I'm trying to convince myself I am. I don’t need anyone, and I will not be reduced to the sad single one while my friends crack on with their brilliant lives. Less than eight hours ago I had a good grip on my future, I can do it again.
“Really, I’m fine,” I insist. “I’ve got the latest book club pick to read, and one of my goals is to do a half-marathon this year, so I’ll go for a run.”
“Not on your own in the dark, you won’t.”
“Fine, I’ll do some yoga then, but I promise I’m OK.”
She narrows her gaze, waiting for me to say more, but I remain tight-lipped. “I’ll take your word for it, but the second you’re not OK, please call me.”
“I will.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about your goals and resolutions tomorrow,” she says, changing the subject. “This is going to be your year, I just know it.”
Somehow, I no longer feel the same.