Chapter 52
Eve
I’m still clutching the collar in my fist as I slide my key into the door, trying to catch my breath. I dump my bag in the hallway and hurry through to the kitchen, yanking the window open to cool the air before rummaging in the cupboard for the wrapping paper.
I’m measuring a sheet on the dining table when I hear the noise through the window. I move over to the back door and open it wide, and there she is. Sitting on the patio and staring at me.
‘Hey.’ I stand back and she pads softly inside, already purring before my hand makes contact with her back. ‘I got something for you.’
I look at the collar on the table, still unwrapped. All the way home, I planned how this would go: I’d give the present to Adam, let him see that I cared, that I could open myself up to something. Now that I’ve thought it over, the Tryst sounds are a sign of nothing, the text message more than likely a check-in from a friend. If I don’t do this — if I don’t let him see what I want, how I’m feeling — how will he know?
But as I look at Old Sausage, her scabby ears and her matted fur, I waver. I want to give it to her. I want to show her that she’s loved.
I unclip the collar and slip it around her neck. Immediately, she looks brighter. She looks like she has a place to call home.
‘Come on then.’ I tickle her gently under the chin. ‘Shall we go and see what Adam thinks?’
I pick her up, my heart hammering, and step out onto the patio. Three gardens down, I can see him, sitting under an umbrella. I pause for a moment and take in the sight of him: soft, curly hair, out-of-control stubble. That gigantic smile. Is he smiling at me?
I take another step forward, heading towards the back gate, but I freeze. There’s someone else — a girl — she’s standing up and stretching her arms out towards him.
He buries his face into her shoulder. Their voices carry over the fences.
‘I’m sorry, Chloe.’
‘What for?’
‘For choosing her over you.’
I clutch Old Sausage closer to me and stumble backwards, my chest tight, until I’m back inside the house.
* * *
For choosing her over you.
I am on the sofa again, holding an unwilling Old Sausage to my chest. So Chloe is his ex-girlfriend. The woman who broke his heart. I didn’t see her face, she had her back to me, but I’m sure it’s the woman I saw in his hallway the first time we met. And now she’s back. He’s apologising. They’re making up. Choosing. Who did he choose? Me? No, that’s ridiculous. We held hands through a pillow wall, worse things have happened to relationships.
But what else could he mean? Was he supposed to see her, the night we went to Windermere? Has he confessed that he felt something between us, but that he doesn’t want to pursue it?
I shake my head. Stupid, this is all stupid. He’s a player, that’s all, just like the rest of them. He’ll have cheated on her, she’ll have left, and now he’s grovelling to get her back.
It’s so obvious I want to scream. How could I be so gullible? Lovely Adam, kind Adam. Of course it was all a game. It always is.
Tears are tickling at the back of my nose, and I swallow them down. I will not cry about this. I promised I’d never let another man do this to me. I promised I’d never let another man fuck me over, and I haven’t. It was a near miss, but I’ve done it. I’ve protected myself again, guarded against all the unpleasant possibilities. I’ve been proven right.
So why doesn’t it feel good?
There’s a knock at the door. I stand up and peer through the peephole. It’s him. He’s here.
I rearrange my face, pulling my shoulders back, and swing the door open.
‘Eve.’ He looks breathless, his eyebrows raised. ‘Hi. Sorry, I—’
‘What’s up?’ I cut in, blocking the doorway.
‘I have to say something.’ He coughs, as though he’s rehearsed this. ‘I–I’ve been in relationships where there’s been cheating before. My ex... I’m familiar with it, I mean. There’s—’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not following you,’ I say, raising my eyebrows. My blood is thundering in my ears.
He takes a deep breath. ‘I can’t do it. I can’t let someone else get hurt.’
Something inside me sags. It’s true, then. They’re back together. I feign a look of confusion. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
He looks at me then, his eyes dark and vulnerable. ‘You and me. I mean, what I felt in Windermere—’
I launch my final blow with everything I have, watching as my words slice through the air. ‘There is no you and me, Adam. Whatever you thought you felt, you were on your own.’ I go to push the door closed, but my thoughts are still bubbling to the surface, my defences fully engaged. The me I try to rein in, the one who stands between my softest parts and the outside world, is running ship again. ‘But you’re right,’ I spit. ‘There’s nothing worse than a cheat.’