Chapter 22
Crisis talks call for neutral territory, I have decided, so first thing this morning I booked a table at my favourite café and texted Joe to see if he fancied meeting for breakfast. He replied with the thumbs-up emoji, explaining that Sid was furious he’d returned home early from Wales and made it quite clear that he wanted to hang out with Denise and Jim all day today, too.
So, awkward Sunday brunch for two it is.
I’m the first to arrive. This coffee shop is one of my favourite places in the city to come and work from when I feel like I need to be around people, rather than stuck in my home office. There’s a copper-clad coffee bar and warm, neutral colours throughout which give off the impression that you might just be sitting inside a giant flat white. The mocha-coloured soft chairs and wood-panelled walls add to the calming atmosphere.
Calming is good, I think, growing increasingly nervous about seeing Joe again. I honestly can’t believe it’s only, what, twelve hours since we kissed? I only said goodbye to him at half past one this morning!
Here he comes, handsome in loose-fitting jeans and a deep green jumper. When he sees me he tips up his head in recognition. My pulse spikes, fingers fidget with the menu in front of me.
‘Hey,’ he says softly, sitting down opposite.
‘Hey,’ I repeat, stomach in knots.
We cycle through some small talk while we put our orders in. I’ve opted for the smoothie bowl, mostly because I figure something cleansing for breakfast might also help clear this brain fog I seem to be battling through? Joe goes for eggs Benedict.
Our coffees arrive decorated with coffee art hearts, which for some reason seems a step too far for me. I pick up my spoon and stir until the heart swirls and blurs.
Joe watches me closely.
‘We should probably talk about last night,’ he says.
‘Yes,’ I exhale.
‘I really like you, Sophie.’
‘I really like you too!’ I reply enthusiastically, relieved he doesn’t hate me for messing things up. ‘Our friendship means so much to me.’
Joe presses his lips together, briefly looking up to the ceiling before bringing his gaze back to me.
‘That’s not quite what I—’ he says.
‘The thing is,’ I’m also saying.
We both pause, waiting for the other person to carry on.
‘You go.’ Joe holds his palms up.
‘Okay,’ I say shakily as my phone pings in my bag. ‘Oh. I’d better just check that in case it’s from Mum, she’s still got Lila.’
There’s a message from an unknown number. I frown as I open it.
Sophie, it’s Mark. I’m in Bristol. Could we talk?
Not Mark my ex-husband, surely? The wishful thinking that this is no doubt some other Mark who knows my name and randomly wants to chat dissipates within seconds as he carries on typing.
Sorry, I know it’s a Sunday! Just wondered if you’d be free to catch up.
I’m on a train back to London at 2pm.
‘Sophie? You’ve gone white,’ Joe says.
I stare and stare at the messages. My hands shake as I set my phone down on the table. It’s been years since I have heard from my ex-husband. Years since I packed up my belongings and moved away from him for good. It wasn’t just the belongings, either. It was the life we’d made, the memories we’d created, the business we’d built. I boxed it all up neatly and pushed it to the far corners of my mind. I started afresh.
‘It’s Mark,’ I say, and even in my confusion I can see Joe’s face clouding over. ‘He wants to meet up. I knew from the moment we saw those Mylk It coffees at the school gates that something like this would happen, I just hoped it wouldn’t.’
‘What do you think he wants?’
I puff air out of my cheeks. ‘No idea. All I know is that I don’t like the fact that he’s here in my city. It makes me feel really uneasy, like alarm bells are ringing.’
‘That’s only natural,’ Joe says softly. ‘You’re feeling protective over Lila.’
I frown. ‘You’re right. It’s unsettling to think that he’s cropped up in our hometown.’
‘Look,’ he says, ‘I don’t want to hold you up. This can wait.’
‘No, we need to sort this out,’ I insist. Because Mark’s sudden reappearance is just acting as yet another reminder of why I just can’t get emotionally tangled up with Joe. ‘Especially now, what with Mark being back …’
I look across at Joe and see him flinch.
‘Okay,’ he says, already nodding like he’s understood what I’m saying before I’ve even said it.
I stare down at my coffee and carry on. ‘Joe, can I lay my cards on the table? I wasn’t expecting that kiss but I … I wanted it too which is really confusing for me.’ I clear my throat, finding myself excruciatingly nervous in this moment. ‘But it would be blinkered of me not to bring it back to where we were both coming from originally with this set-up. The reason why we’re here. I had a very clear plan to get in with mums at school so that Lila could make new friends. And she has, so it was a major success. And at the same time we’ve been having so much fun and god, Joe, I love you as a friend, like, so much. I think we got caught up in all of that, all the celebrations of the weekend, the magical firework display and … and … we made a mistake? We got carried away in the moment. And that’s fine! We’re only human.’
I take a pause and drag my eyes up to meet Joe’s.
And I can see that cloud descend back down over his face. The slightest hint of a frown that he does his best to shake off. And I don’t know why my heart feels so heavy when he echoes the word mistake back at me.
‘I’ve never had a proper best friend before,’ I add quietly. ‘I can’t stand the thought of messing that up, Joe.’
He rallies a smile.
‘Sophie Rogers,’ he says with a shake of the head. ‘I do understand what you’re saying. For the record, I would like to let it be known that I’ve never enjoyed a kiss more. And I would quite happily do a lot more of that.’
He raises his eyebrow at me and it takes all of my strength not to leap over the table and snog his face off right here in the café.
Which I can’t do. If we tried a relationship we’d no doubt fuck it up, and then I’d lose him as a friend, which is an unbearable thought. I’d lose everything that we’ve set up with Lila’s friendships and mine and … because if it implodes between us, I’d be the outcast at school all over again. There’s just way too much to lose.
‘But,’ he continues, ‘we both have to want it, right? You want friendship and you don’t want me to fuck it up and I will try my best to give that to you.’
This should be music to my ears but it isn’t. I smile weakly at Joe, telling myself that time and distance are probably all we need to make things feel like they’re back on track.
‘Thank you, Joe,’ I say quietly. ‘I’d better go. I’m so sorry to cut this short. It’s just—’
‘Mark?’ he offers.
‘Mark.’ I nod. ‘I’m going to have to go and meet him.’
‘Understood,’ he says sadly. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.’
I’m so grateful, and also still so painfully aware that this mission to smooth things over with Joe doesn’t quite feel like it’s worked. But finding out what the hell Mark wants is my priority right now. I absent-mindedly kiss him on the cheek before flying out of the café.
My hackles are well and truly up by the time I find Mark. I feel combative, his very presence in Bristol is enough to put me on the defence and the corporate hotel we’re meeting at doesn’t make me feel much better. We haven’t spoken one word since our divorce was finalised. He has never met his daughter. I’ve never expected a penny from him in child maintenance and he’s certainly never offered it. As far as I was concerned, he’d checked out of fatherhood the minute he suggested I get an abortion. Add to all of that the fact of that sudden interruption this morning to my time with Joe and I am irritated to say the least. I simply do not want to be here.
I march through the revolving doors and spot Mark in the bar area, a cup of coffee and a laptop on the table beside him. The first thing I note is that he’s wearing the kind of stealth wealth outfit Kendall Roy would be proud of; quilted jacket, T-shirt and dark jeans. It’s all undeniably casual compared to the Mark I remember, who lived in suits and only downgraded to a slightly less formal shirt at weekends. Today he looks different, more relaxed, and it’s a shock to the system.
‘Sophie.’ He spots me and stands. ‘Thank you so much for coming. How are you?’
Pleasantries and gratitude? Mark seems more mellow than I remember, which is unnerving.
‘I’m well thanks,’ I reply, dialling down just a little the all-guns-blazing approach I’d been planning on the walk over.
‘You look fantastic,’ he says. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
I fold my arms. ‘I’ll take a green tea.’
‘Please, grab a seat,’ he says, motioning towards the chair next to his. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
‘Look,’ I say coolly, ‘I don’t have masses of time. Why am I here, Mark? Or, more to the point, why are you here?’
He bobs his head up and down like he thinks I’ve asked a great question. Mark is his standard clean-shaven self, stylish glasses framing his tanned face. I note that he has flecks of grey through his light brown hair now, but his face is still the one I knew so well. He flashes a bright white smile at me.
‘Straight down to business,’ he says. ‘You always were forthright, Sophie.’
I can feel my lip curl at this. I don’t want him to tell me what I was ‘always’ like. I don’t want him to have any claim on me whatsoever. But there’s a glimmer in his eyes and it all comes flooding back, how persuasive he can be, how part of his business success is his brand of polished charm which comes straight from a private education and a sense of entitlement.
‘I’ll get straight to the point,’ he says as my tea arrives. ‘I really am grateful that you’ve taken the time to come and see me, so thank you.’
This, again, catches me by surprise.
‘I’m here for two reasons. The first is to say that business is booming. The London cafés are turning over a fantastic profit, we’re in talks with one of the big supermarkets to stock our plant milks and Mylk It merch is flying off the shelves.’
I raise an eyebrow at this. It was my idea to design tote bags, reusable cups and bamboo food containers, but I left the company weeks before we launched the merchandise so never got to see how well it worked.
‘You were integral in that,’ he says. ‘Your ideas were always the ones that propelled us forward.’
I mean, I know this as well as Mark does, but I can’t remember him ever having acknowledged it when we were business partners.
‘Financially, there’s never been a better time for us to look into expansion,’ he carries on. ‘We’ve launched a pop-up here in Bristol which I fully expect will become a permanent café. After that, we roll out. Bath, Chippenham … a South West takeover, if you will. There’s only one person who can run all of that, Sophie. You.’
‘What?’ I gasp, completely blind-sided.
Mark goes into full pitch mode. ‘You already know the company inside out. You live in Bristol so you already have invaluable insight into the region. And maybe, at the end of the day, it’s simply time to come back in? I feel genuinely bad for how things ended between us. Thinking back, perhaps I shouldn’t have hired such heavyweight lawyers to deal with the business side of things …’
I can’t help but splutter out a mirthless laugh at this.
‘Are you kidding? I ended up fighting tooth and nail to extract myself from Mylk It with a fair settlement. Hours spent with lawyers trying to argue my corner, for a business that was my idea in the first place? Let alone the cost. And all the while you were hiding behind your City legal firm.’
Mark, to my surprise, looks pained to be reminded of this. He holds his hands up.
‘I am truly sorry. You did put up an excellent fight though …’ he adds with a smile. ‘I seem to remember my guys saying they’d never seen such a generous settlement.’
I sip my tea and try to get my head around what Mark is saying. Obviously going back into business with this man would be the worst idea of my life. I cannot believe he has the gall to offer me a job at my own company, for a start. The absolute audacity of it!
When I speak, I do so slowly and deliberately.
‘Mark, I’m not too sure what’s going on here,’ I say, waving my hand around to demonstrate that I mean with him. ‘But the fact is, I would still be running the company if it weren’t for you and your appalling behaviour. So to now offer me a job working for you is … vexing.’
‘I can tell that you are mad as hell,’ Mark says. ‘And I completely understand that. You’re right. I just wanted you to know that I’ve changed, Sophie. I’m not that cut-throat anymore. And I can see, as clear as day, how good you would be for us. What I’m offering is a job that would set you up for life. You’d have complete job security, private healthcare for both you and our daughter—’
OH MY GOD.
‘My daughter,’ I retort.
‘Of course.’ Mark looks chastised. ‘Apologies. There’d be flexible working hours so that you can work around your daughter and the salary is really competitive – my assistant can email the details over to you tomorrow.’
My mind is swirling. Annoyingly I can’t deny the lure of a financially secure future, one where I’m not relying solely on myself to make ends meet each month. Flexible working and healthcare, too? That’s huge. And then there’s the fact that Mark seems to have had a personality makeover. He seems softer, kinder, marginally less of a douche.
‘Why Bristol?’ I ask eventually.
He meets my gaze with a thoughtful look. ‘The team did a lot of market research and Bristol came up top but in the spirit of honesty, the fact that you and your daughter are here clinched it for me.’
My heart plummets. I knew it.
‘That’s the second thing I wanted to talk to you about,’ he says as a sick feeling builds in my stomach. ‘I know I can’t prove anything over a quick drink today but I have mellowed in the last few years. Life is different in my mid-thirties and I think a lot about you and our – your – child. I was too hasty to rule out fatherhood the way I did. It’s my one big regret in life.’
I press my thumbnail into the pad of skin under my index finger. I can feel my jaw tense.
‘I know it’s a huge ask, and you have every right to turn me down, but I would love to meet her,’ he says. ‘To just feel, in the smallest way, a part of her life would be incredible. I was a terrible husband and I’m sorry for that. Truly. If there’s any way you could consider letting me be a part of her life, I would be so grateful.’
A part of me believes Mark, but a bigger part wants to scream. He wants access to Lila. My beautiful daughter.
‘You wanted me to get an abortion,’ I say, shimmering with rage and confusion. ‘You called my pregnancy an inconvenience. And I don’t think you ever apologised about the affair. You dismissed it, just like you tried to dismiss the pregnancy.’
I remember the look on Mark’s face when I told him that I was keeping the baby. He seemed astonished that I wasn’t going to do what he wanted. And then when I told him I wanted a divorce and a slice of the business for my unborn child, he had the gall to suggest that it was my pregnancy hormones talking and that I shouldn’t make any rash decisions.
‘I am so sorry, Sophie.’ Mark holds my gaze. And I find my confidence slipping. Was I wrong? Was he maybe not entirely awful after all? Did all the time apart, all the challenges of our split, make me remember him in an exaggeratedly bad light? I study his face, a mix of hope and contrition.
‘Look, I can’t make any decisions right now,’ I say, rubbing my aching head. ‘This has been a lot.’
‘I completely understand. I appreciate you coming today,’ he says. ‘I’ll be back and forth from Bristol for the next few weeks now in case you want to chat things through. Can I ask one last thing?’
I raise my eyebrow.
‘What’s her name?’
I don’t want to say it. I know I can’t deny him this, but it’s like I’m giving a piece of myself away.
I inhale slowly.
‘Lila.’
‘Lila,’ he repeats with a smile. ‘And how is she?’
‘She’s the best thing in my world,’ I reply, a lump forming in my throat.
I stand up to leave and Mark stands too.
‘Thank you, Sophie.’
I hurry out, compelled to wrap Lila in my arms as soon as physically possible. As I walk, I repeat to myself: “I can deal with this. I can deal with this.”