TWENTY-TWO
“And exhale,” Lydia said serenely as the class of fifteen yogis shifted back into downward dog, with mixed success. I pushed my arse into the air, feeling my hamstrings tighten.
Don’t vomit, don’t vomit.
But as the blood rushed to my head, it wasn’t sick rising up my throat. It was the heartburn that rose, burning through my chest and up my throat. I collapsed onto the yoga mat, the noise of my body hitting the floor making everyone glance my way.
You okay ? Lydia mouthed at me, her face marred with concern.
I gave a strained smile and nodded. “I’m fine.”
Rubbing my chest, I glanced at the clock. Half an hour and this was over. While I loved seeing Lydia do her thing—she was the perfect balance of instructive and peppy—I was riddled with anxiety and regret. I needed a filthy fry-up and a good cry watching Long Lost Family clips on YouTube.
“What’s going on with you?” Lydia asked as we queued up in the gym’s cafe after class. For a Tuesday morning, it was busy. People were working on laptops while parents of young children rushed them to swimming lessons. Lydia’s gym was posh. It had indoor and outdoor tennis courts and pools, several saunas and steam rooms, and even a children’s pool with a water slide for all the little Timothys and Jemimas to enjoy.
Lydia was nauseatingly popular. We could only take two steps before she was stopped by her clients or regulars, gushing about their personal bests or bemoaning their injuries. Lydia smiled, laughed and remembered everyone’s name. Her brain never lagged and she didn’t perform or change into anyone else either.
She was just herself—bubbly, approachable, kind.
It was enviable. I was always pushing myself to perform at work, to be someone without brain fog and a poor memory. I was capable of turning it on and performing. But if I did it constantly, I crashed at the end of the day, exhausted.
“Just a bit hungover,” I mumbled.
“Kat,” Lydia said, as we shuffled further down the queue, “you should have said. I wouldn’t have minded if you needed to cancel.”
I wanted to say that if I’d cancelled, I would have been riddled with even more self-loathing.
“I know, I just—I needed something to do today anyway,” I said, picking up a protein bar. It would taste like plastic, but I needed to restore my vitals.
We got to the front of the queue. A girl with cropped brown hair was taking orders, and her brown eyes lit up when she saw her next customer.
“Hey, Lydia.”
“Hey, Casey.” Lydia smiled.
“The usual?” Casey asked breathlessly .
“Yes, please, and a—” Lydia gestured to me.
“A caramel latte, please,” I asked, smiling at the woman who looked like she was going to combust in front of our eyes.
“I’ll bring it over.”
“Thanks, Casey,” Lydia said, moving us out of the line and through the cafe to find somewhere to sit near the window. Outside, two ladies in swimming caps were doing laps, more steam rising from the heated pool with each movement of their arms.
Lydia smirked. “Dad told me you moved in with Liam. I said hire him, Kat”—Lydia snorted a laugh—“not shack up with him.”
I gasped. “I didn’t shack up with him!”
“That’s how Dad made it sound. How did that happen?” She arched a blonde eyebrow. “You didn’t seem all that friendly at the club.”
“Liam said I had to move out. I didn’t want to, but I had no choice.” I decided to leave out that I camped in the garden and had to be saved by Liam himself. I could do without that strike to my ego. “Liam came by the house and offered me a place in his annexe.”
Lydia barked a laugh. “Bet you loved that.”
I gave a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah.”
Lydia’s smile dropped. “You know we’re here to help, Kat. Me, Mum, Dad. I mean, half of the club, too. You just need to ask.”
I squirmed. I’d never been good at accepting help. Mum had always drilled it into me that no one was going to help me. I had to help myself.
Apply yourself, Katherine .
Dad hadn’t been much better either. He’d travelled the UK on his own, renovating a house, selling it and moving on. He died alone in a strange hospital on his own, without me, or his brother.
I inhaled a shaky breath. “I’ll get better at asking for help.”
“Good egg,” Lydia said, squeezing my hand, “because Mum is driving me mad. She’s champing at the bit to help. Don’t be surprised if you come by one day and she’s painting your front room magnolia.”
I knew Lydia was joking, but I internally flinched at the mention of the colour magnolia. Like any millennial, that colour was etched into my brain.
I frowned. “She never mentioned anything.”
Lydia shrugged. “After Dad brought those plans to the club and upset you, Mum said we were banned from meddling.”
“Caramel latte and black coffee,” Casey said, holding two cups and saucers.
I glanced at the till and saw that a different person was manning it. Casey had definitely asked someone to swap with her so she could bring these over.
“Perfect, thank you,” Lydia said, moving her phone out of the way. Casey placed the cups down and aimed one more smile at Lydia before leaving.
“Lyd,” I said, lowering my voice.
Her blue eyes lifted to mine, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“Are we gonna talk about how that woman has the biggest crush on you, maybe ever?” I raised an eyebrow.
Lydia’s cup clattered down onto the saucer, her eyes darting across the room to find Casey.
She frowned. “No. She doesn’t.”
I nodded vehemently. “Yes, she does.”
“She’s just being nice. I don’t even know if she’s into girls.”
“She made that guy”—I pointed to the teenager at the till who was going through an unfortunate goatee phase—“swap with her so she could bring these coffees over here herself. Plus, look at her face when she looks at you. You’re delusional if you don’t see it.”
Lydia groaned, rubbing her face. “I can tell when guys are interested, but it’s so hard to tell with women. I can’t tell if they are just being nice.”
“The blight of the bisexual.”
Lydia barked a laugh. “It’s just a phase, Kat. I’ll get over it.”
I nodded, mock pouting. “You’re just being greedy.”
“Oh yeah, greedy and a bit of a slag too.”
I laughed, aware that if anyone took this out of context, we would definitely be cancelled.
“You should ask her out if you like her,” I said, lifting the mug to my lips. The first sip was the perfect mix of bitter coffee, followed by the sweetness of the caramel syrup. It was just what I needed for this hangover. Lydia waved to a table of four smiling older ladies decked out in garishly patterned athleisure. Their workout clothes looked more expensive than a month’s rent in London.
“I might do.” Lydia nodded, glancing over at Casey again. “So—” Lydia’s face was uncharacteristically serious.
“What?” I asked, panic rising in my throat .
“On the topic of romance. I should mention a new… development.”
My eyes widened.
“What?” Panic rose in my voice.
“You and Liam. People have noticed some tension between the two of you.”
I felt my face going red. Had Lydia found out about the stupid kiss? Had Liam told Yasmin, probably laughing it off, and now everyone knew? Or was I that transparent? Was everyone talking about my stupid crush?
I shook my head, aiming for a casual, breezy smile. “There is no tension.” I suspected it came out like constipation.
Lydia cocked an eyebrow. “Well, you bicker a lot.”
“Yeah, we bicker.” I shrugged. “He sometimes rubs me up the wrong way. That’s all.”
I didn’t mention I wouldn’t have been totally against him rubbing me up the right way…
“I guess people are… reading into it. Everyone seems to have noticed your energy.” Lydia grinned. “Especially when Liam signed up to help you so easily. He helps out but usually makes people work a bit harder than that. He just stood up and signed up in front of everyone. That’s as close as Liam would get to a confession of love. He always moans about extra work, even if he does it eventually. So… don’t freak out”—my stomach dropped—“but they’re taking bets if you’ll end up together or not.”
“Who are they ?” I hissed.
“Some people at the club did a whip-round… ”
I groaned, throwing my head into my hands.
“Word got around. They were feral when you got upset about your dad’s plans—everyone said they’d never seen Liam react like that. Apparently, once he saw you crying, he became possessed.”
My body heated up when I thought about Liam’s palm on the small of my back as he guided me to the terrace garden.
“He was just being nice.”
Lydia hummed, unsure. “Sure, Liam is a softie, deep down. But he’s usually a bit more subtle with it. This was something else.”
If anyone found out about the stupid drunk kiss, it wouldn’t just line pockets but get their hopes up—Sandra, Brian, Pat, Lydia, and even Dot. I’d be the town pariah when I went home to London, leaving their golden boy in the lurch. Everyone loved Liam. They would side with him. And then I’d never be welcomed back.
And I was realising I’d really like to be welcomed back.
“If I tell you something, you promise not to tell anyone?” I asked, meeting Lydia’s eyes, the mirror of mine.
She frowned. “Sure.”
“I kissed Liam,” I announced, cringing. Lydia’s jaw dropped. “It was a silly drunken mistake—my drunken mistake. He was horrified, and I am very, very embarrassed. So I guess I’m saying that Liam and I aren’t going to happen. No chance.”
Lydia scratched her arm. “That just doesn’t make sense.”
“Trust me, it makes perfect sense. Besides, he still has a thing with his ex,” I said casually.
I was not fishing for information at all .
Lydia snorted. “Yasmin? No way. They are over, over.” Lydia’s eyes widened. “Did he tell you about Yasmin? ’Cos he never speaks about that. Not to anyone.”
Well, that made me feel marginally better.
“I met her. Thanks for the heads-up, by the way. He never even told me he had a daughter. Yasmin and Abigail came around, looking for Liam, and Yasmin basically slut shamed me, assuming I was one of his one-night stands—”
“Oh my god,” Lydia exclaimed, bordering on laughing, even though I knew she didn’t find it funny.
“Yep. She basically called me a slag and then asked if Liam had been drinking.”
Lydia cringed. “Yeah, I could see how she got there. If she didn’t know you were staying in the annexe…”
“Who just jumps to that conclusion? It all seemed a bit intense.”
Lydia sighed. “Look. There is some… baggage between Yasmin and Liam. Hangovers from years ago, from when they broke up. I never got the full picture because Liam isn’t the biggest talker.”
He always seemed pretty open to talk to me.
I bit my lip. “What do you mean?”
Lydia glanced away. “Liam should explain, but he went through the wringer a few years ago. He wasn’t in a good place after Yasmin broke it off. But then, he got his shit together, quit drinking. Since then, he’s been a fucking saint.” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Borderline boring, if you ask me. It’s like he’s shrunk his life. Taking on your project was probably the most rogue thing he’s done in years. It’s usually just work or Abigail.” Lydia’s eyes softened. “He adores that kid.”
“I accused him of being a bad dad,” I blurted out as guilt swirled in my gut.
Lydia’s blue eyes bugged. “You said what?”
My head fell in my hands. “I was already wound up about the stupid drunk kiss, and then this beautiful woman appeared with this cute kid, and it was so confusing because he’d never mentioned a kid.” I get it out in one breath. “Then it occurred to me I had been living with Liam for over a week, and I hadn’t seen the kid—which you have to admit is weird—so then I accused him of hiding her and essentially being a bad dad.”
Lydia gasped. “Okay.”
“I know.” I groaned. “I think I just projected all of my daddy issues onto him and Abigail.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. I did apologise but it was completely irrational, and I can’t believe I did that. I’ve known the man a few weeks, and now I’ve just swooped in, making assumptions about his life. He’s going to hate me. He should kick me out.”
“He won’t kick you out. He’ll live. Liam’s got thick skin.”
My head fell into my hands. “I’m the worst.”
“You’re not the worst. Just say sorry. He could have mentioned Abigail, at least in passing.”
“Right?” I exclaimed. But I didn’t feel much better.
Lydia sipped her coffee. “You’ll figure it out. Hopefully, in time for Sunday lunch. Or that could be awkward.”
“Sunday lunch?”
“Every month, one of us hosts Sunday lunch. This month is Mum and Dad’s turn.”
I bristled. Liam knew more about my family’s traditions than I did.
“Liam probably forgot to mention it. Maybe we should give him a minute to recover from his ex, daughter and ‘bit on the side’ converging in his garden.”
Lydia burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny!” I shouted, but my lips couldn’t help but upturn. Lydia’s laugh was infectious.
“It’s a bit funny,” Lydia wheezed.