Chapter 16
Try again
I wake up the next morning to the sun shining brightly through the curtains.
Ordinarily, this would have been an ideal way to wake up on a Saturday, but on this particular Saturday, the brightness hurts my eyes and makes my head pound harder than it already is, which in turn makes my stomach roll around like a washing machine.
I’m so focused on breathing through the nausea and pain that it takes me a few minutes to remember where I am and, more significantly, who I’m in bed with.
Rhys’s arm is still wrapped around me, and his head is resting half on his pillow and half on mine. Careful not to wake him, I creep out of bed, throw on my dressing gown and slippers and head downstairs in the hunt for painkillers.
As I descend the stairs, I think about last night.
How did things change so drastically in such a short space of time?
At the start of the night, I was feeling good, almost confident even, but self-doubt had crept in and festered in my already malfunctioning brain.
Somehow, that led to me ending up back in my old bed, my old house, my old life.
It would be so easy to just slip back into our old routine.
Passing the couch on the way to the kitchen, I spot my handbag, half-hidden under a cushion.
I pull out my phone and turn it back on.
As it’s setting itself up, I go to the kitchen, wash a glass when I can’t find a clean one, and down a couple of painkillers with a pint of water.
My phone buzzes the entire time as it catches up with messages I’ve missed.
Probably just Vi and the gang updating the work group chat with pictures and videos of their night out.
It’s not unusual to have dozens, even hundreds, of selfies from them after a few drinks together.
Glass drained, I can’t ignore it any longer – it’s time to face reality.
I type in my passcode and stare wide-eyed at my notifications.
Messages from Connor, Violet, Tim and Seren appear.
My breath hitches as I notice sixty-three missed calls.
I click on my call log and see that eleven are from Vi, three each from Seren and Tim, and forty-six from Connor, the most recent being only an hour ago.
I go back to the living room and settle on the sofa to read the messages. The earliest are from a new group chat called ‘WHERE THE FUCK IS MATILDA?’.
VIOLET
Tilly, where did you go?
Are you in the loo?
Not in the loo, you outside?
Seren
Answer your phone, Matilda! I’m fed up of playing hide and seek in a packed bar
Tim
Tilly, just answer your fucking phone so we know you’re alive
Violet
Tilly, I’m really worried, will you just let us know you’re safe, please?
Seren
If you’re in trouble, drop a pin and we’ll find you
Tim
She’s not in the smoking area, anyone heard anything?
Violet
Nothing out front
Seren
Nothing inside
VioleT
I’m going back to The Nightingale to see if she’s gone there. Maybe that chef will have heard from her
Seren
I’ll grab our stuff
Oh, God. My stomach turns at the thought of them spending their night looking for me. I honestly expected them to just get on with their evening and not miss me at all. I type out a quick message to the group, with shaky fingers.
Me
I’m so sorry, guys. I’m okay, I’ll explain everything on Monday
Then I mute the notifications so I don’t have to deal with the fallout until my hangover clears, and move on to Connor’s messages.
Connor
Hey, you having a good night? Don’t forget to message if you need a lift home later
Your friends from work are here, where are you?
Seriously, Til, where are you?
I’m panicking here, Tilly, please answer me?
Matilda?
As soon as you see these messages I need you to call me
I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing, I can come and get you. Just please tell me where you are
“You alright?”
I jump out of my skin at the sound of Rhys’s voice. I’ve been so engrossed in the messages I didn’t even hear him enter the room.
“Just looking through messages from last night while my phone was off. I think I worried a few people.” I chew on my lip as I re-read Connor’s messages.
“Can I see?” Rhys asks, sitting on the sofa next to me. He throws an arm behind me and takes my phone before I have chance to say yes.
His brows knit together as he reads, sighs and hands back my phone. “Sounds like he’s pissed off, to be honest, Mat,” he says eventually.
“Do you think so?” Guilt, anxiety and the remnants of last night’s drinks churn in my stomach. Connor has been such a good friend to me lately, I would hate for him to be angry with me.
“Sorry, Muffin.” He pulls me towards him and squeezes my shoulders. “Look, do you want me to be honest?”
“Yes,” I say into the hoodie he’s thrown on, though I’m not sure I do.
“I think you moved in with him when you were vulnerable, and now he feels responsible for you. It must have been a huge burden for him to have you there, but he’s a good guy, so I bet he never said anything.”
Oh my God, he’s right. I turned up at Connor’s house one day and turned everything upside down by crying at him, drawing him into my drama and forcing him to look after me.
“I’m such a horrible, selfish person,” I mumble through fresh tears. Honestly, I don’t understand how I haven’t dehydrated by now with all this crying.
“No!” Rhys insists, squeezing me tighter. “You’re not selfish at all. You were hurting, I hurt you, so you haven’t been thinking straight. And now we’ve been brought back together, I’m here to help you, so you can let him get on with his life again.”
His words make sense. So why does it hurt to hear it?
“Like I said, he’s a good guy, so he’ll probably tell you he doesn’t mind. Might be best to have a clean break, you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just think we’ll all be able to move on with our lives better if the two of you cut contact. A fresh start for us, and he can go back to the life he put on hold for the last few weeks.”
Not see Connor again? I don’t know if I could bear it. He’s become such a big part of my life, I can’t picture a future where he’s not some part of it.
That’s exactly what a selfish person would say. He probably can’t wait to be rid of you, so just get it over with.
As if he read my mind, Rhys says, “I’ll wait with you while you call, for moral support. Then I’ll get the kettle on.”
Fighting back yet another sob, I find Connor’s name in my phone and press call. After only two rings, Connor’s tired voice answers.
“Tilly!”
“Hi. I’m so sorry.” For not calling. For being a burden.
“Are you okay? Where are you?” His voice is croaky, and he sounds exhausted.
Rhys reaches over and presses the speakerphone option so he can hear both sides of the conversation, so I lower the phone to my lap.
“I’m fine,” I force out. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call – I lost my phone, and I didn’t know anyone’s number, because who memorises people’s phone numbers these days?” Oh shit. I’m rambling now.
“Where are you?” His deep voice is firm with what I assume is frustration and anger.
“I’m safe, honestly.” I gulp. “I’m at Rhys’s.”
Silence.
“You’re at Rhys’s?” he asks disbelievingly. “Willingly?”
“Yes, willingly.”
“I’m coming to see you. I need to know you’re really okay.” I hear the rustle of clothing and jingling of keys in the background. Rhys puts a hand on my leg, drawing my attention to him. He gives me a tight smile and a small nod of encouragement.
“No, you don’t need to come. I’m fine.” I try to sound confident so he’ll believe me, but I’m not sure if I’m coming across that way.
“Tilly…”
“I want to be here. We talked last night and we’re going to…” I look between Rhys’s face and the hand he still has on my knee. As difficult as it will be to fall back into my old life with Rhys, I can’t bear being a burden on Connor anymore. “We’re going to try again.”
Rhys squeezes my knee in approval.
“This is insane,” Connor breathes, more to himself than me. “Okay, how about I take you for a coffee, and you can explain it all to me properly?”
I’m really going to miss this considerate, understanding new Connor.
“Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me, you have no idea how much I appreciate it.” I force myself to go on before I lose courage. “But I… I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
Rhys leans over and whispers in my ear. “You’re doing so well, Muffin. You’re doing the right thing.”
I nod through my tears, waiting for Connor’s response.
“You can’t be serious? Tilly, don’t cut me out…” For a moment I think he sounds pained but quickly come to my senses. He’s just been caught off guard.
Rhys whispers in my ear and I nod again.
“If it’s okay with you, Rhys will come and get my things later. He’ll give my key back while he’s there.”
“For fuck’s sake, Matilda…”
“I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’re a really good person.”
“Tilly, please!”
“Bye, Connor.”
Rhys takes the phone from my shaking hand and hangs up for me. I lean into his hold, and he kisses my head.
“I know that was hard for you. But the right thing usually is, you know?”
He’s right. But that knowledge doesn’t ease the pain I’m feeling at the prospect of never seeing Connor again. The pain that’s worse, I realise, than when I decided to leave Rhys.
“I’ll put the kettle on, you put your feet up,” Rhys says, swinging my legs onto the sofa for me. “You might want to block and delete his number too, Mat. You don’t want to be tempted to drag him into something again, do you? Not when he’s just got his life back.”
I curl into a ball and stare at my phone, unsure if I’m able to take that final step. Rhys gives me a knowing, sympathetic look.
“I can do it, if you want?” he says. I reluctantly hold up the phone, and he takes it.
“What’s your passcode?”
“My birthday,” I answer quietly.
“May?”
“October.”
“Oh. Fourteenth, yeah?”
“Third.”
“Oh, sorry. I could have sworn it was in May.”
I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I am. And worse, I’m more disappointed than ever, knowing that Connor had my birthday memorised before we even started to like each other.
Rhys taps away at my phone, then hands it back to me.
Satisfied that the person I had considered a friend is now cut from our lives, Rhys retreats to the kitchen, leaving me numb on the couch.
He calls over his shoulder, “Now we can finally put this whole mess behind us and go back to how things were.”
Great.