Chapter Twenty-Seven
Another art class passes by far too quickly.
I’m really loving Dorian’s classes, learning from him and developing my skills, and having a couple of hours just for me, to forget about work and life and meet-cutes and simply focusing on pouring myself onto the canvas feels soothing.
Audrey and Olive are disappointed when we can’t join them for a drink again afterwards, but Rhys has a shift starting soon and Jonah is joining Thea for moral support as she breaks the news about her divorce to their parents.
The kids are with Daniel, so Thea has invited Farrah and Keith round for tea.
‘Will you come with me for moral support?’ Jonah clings to me as we reach Thea’s car, where we are set to part ways.
We’ve driven to the class separately this week so the siblings can head straight to Thea’s place to prepare for the showdown.
Jonah aims his best puppy-dog eyes at me and while I feel bad, I simply can’t.
‘I love you, but not that much.’
Jonah groans and drops his chin to his chest. ‘She’s going to be a nightmare, isn’t she?’
He doesn’t clarify who ‘she’ is, but we both know he’s referring to his mother.
‘Yes, I’m afraid she is.’
‘She’s going to find some way to blame me for the breakdown of my sister’s marriage, isn’t she?’
I nod, because that is a fair prediction of how the evening is going to pan out. ‘But you’ll survive, and when I get home, we can watch whichever romcom you choose.’
‘That’s if you come home at all.’ Jonah pushes his arm into mine. ‘It might go so well with Kit that you don’t.’
I mock-gape at Jonah. ‘This is our first date, and I am not that kind of girl.’ Butterflies are aflutter in my stomach at the thought that in a matter of minutes, I will be meeting Kit in the flesh for the first time since our piano bar meet-cute.
‘Good luck.’ Jonah stoops to kiss me on the cheek before he climbs into the car.
‘You too.’ I take a step back as Jonah closes the door, his face set in a grimace, and I wave them off before saying goodbye to Rhys, Audrey and Olive.
I’ve arranged to meet Kit at a coffee shop a short walk from Piccadilly Gardens and I try not to rush too much even though I’m dying to see if what I felt a few weeks ago outside the piano bar was real, because I don’t want to arrive frazzled and sweaty.
My stomach is in knots as I step into the coffee shop, and I have to take a few deep breaths to calm my galloping heart rate before I allow my eyes to roam the space in search of Kit.
I spot him straight away, sitting on a sofa behind a low, oval table, his fingers tapping on his phone and his brow furrowed with concentration.
He’s still looking down at his screen as I approach, so he doesn’t see me until I say his name, and his head jerks up, a smile spreading across his face as he stands up to greet me.
‘You’re here.’ He slides his phone into his pocket before holding his arms out, and I step into them for a brief hug that helps to calm my still-too-rapid heart rate.
He smells good, of vanilla with gentle florals, and I hope he can’t detect any aroma caused by my bolt from the art class in the blazing sun.
I let go, just in case I’m whiffy, and take a mini step back.
‘How was the tour?’ He’s told me bits and pieces as we volleyed messages back and forth, but I want to hear all about it, face-to-face this time.
‘Let’s get you a drink and I’ll tell you everything.’
And he does. He starts with the news that, due to unforeseen circumstances, the support act for Fizzy Bucks, a band that had found fame first via TikTok and then appearing on Britain’s Got Talent, had fallen through, and they’d like Kit’s band to join them on their European tour.
He tells me about the journey over to Norway, making me giggle as he tells me about his mate’s mishap in the toilets during a bout of bad turbulence (‘He assures me he was washing his hands when it happened, but it looked like he’d wet himself’) and his passion shines through as he recalls the gigs, his face alight and his hands flying all over the place as he describes the stage and the crowd and the atmosphere.
It’s clear that performing is what he is supposed to be doing with his life, and while plumbing pays the bills right now, I hope that one day he will get to live his dream permanently.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Kit shakes his head, but his face doesn’t look remorseful.
It’s still glowing, his smile still wide, his eyes shining with the memories of his trip.
‘I’ve monopolised the conversation, haven’t I?
’ He reaches for his drink – his second since I arrived, because there’s been so much to talk about – and takes a sip.
‘Tell me about your work. I know you work in a bar, but that’s about it.
Is it in town?’ He looks towards the window, as though Rollerz will suddenly pop up out there.
‘No, it’s a cafe bar near where I live in Woodgate.’
Kit presses his lips into a thin line and tilts his head. ‘Woodgate… That sounds familiar. I think we might have played a gig in one of the pubs round there.’
‘Then I’m sad I missed that.’ I grab my frappé and suck up the last dregs, being careful not to make slurpy noises with the straw. ‘I’d love to see you and your band. When are you playing in Manchester?’
Kit shrugs and looks a bit sheepish. ‘I’m really bad with the scheduling, to be honest. Charlie takes care of all that and I just show up where I’m told to.’
‘Is Charlie your manager?’
Kit shakes his head and cracks the knuckle of his index finger.
‘We don’t have a manager. Yet.’ He sits up a bit straighter, his eyes wide and full of hope.
‘But that might change. We had some interest after the tour, so we’re hoping to sign with an agency.
Charlie’s done their best – it was through a friend of a friend that we ended up on this tour – but we could really make it big with the right people behind us. ’
‘That’s amazing.’ I place my hand on Kit’s, and I feel a jolt at the skin-on-skin contact. It’s the first time we’ve touched since meeting up this afternoon, other than the brief hug when I arrived. Kit meets my eye and I slowly slide my hand away, unsure whether I’ve done the right thing.
‘Do you know what else is amazing?’
I shake my head as I tuck my hand under my leg.
Kit leans towards me, a smile playing on his lips. ‘You. Thank you for finding my number.’
‘Sorry for losing it in the first place.’
Kit shrugs as he eases my hand out from under my leg, lacing his fingers through mine. ‘It’s a story for the grandkids, I guess.’
‘Grandkids? Wow. Talk about forward-planning.’
‘There’s a first time for everything.’ Kit grins at me, and my stomach tightens.
He really is gorgeous. I can’t quite believe he’s real.
That this is real. That the universe has finally stopped dicking me around and served up a decent bloke.
It’s made the terrible pirate dates and getting trapped in lifts and toilets and falling over wonky paving stones – not to mention all the drinks I’ve been adorned with over the past few months – worth it to get here, now, with Kit.
Kit leans towards me, and I close my eyes, readying myself for the kiss I’ve been dreaming about for weeks. But Kit’s lips don’t meet mine and he snatches his hand away.
‘Oh, shit.’ Kit squeezes his eyes shut as he drops his chin to his chest.
‘So, you’re unclogging your gran’s toilet, are you?’
I start at the bark beside us and swivel round to see a woman standing next to our table, her face scrunched up in fury, her eyes trained on Kit, who’s sunk so far down in his seat, he’s in danger of slipping under the table.
She quirks an eyebrow, but if she’s waiting for an answer from Kit, it doesn’t materialise.
‘I knew you were lying, because that’s what you do, isn’t it?
Lie, lie, lie. I can’t believe I thought you’d change! I’m such an idiot.’
‘Who is this?’ I think I probably know, deep down where I don’t want to delve, but I ask Kit the question anyway. Not that he answers. Or even peeks in my direction. The woman turns her glare towards me, and I shrink beneath it.
‘Do you think you’re the first? That you’re special? Because you’re not, sweetheart. This is what he does. He’s a cheater who goes with any skank that offers herself up to him on a plate.’
Kit comes to life, his chin lifting and his spine straightening, as though someone spotted a loose wire and reconnected it, but it isn’t to come to my defence. To tell this woman I’m not a skank. ‘How did you know I was here? Have you been tracking me?’
‘Find My Phone.’ She thrusts her phone’s screen at Kit. ‘We set it up when we were on tour, remember, just in case we got separated.’
Kit splutters, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. ‘So you thought you’d use it to spy on me?’
‘Don’t you turn this around and make me the bad guy.’ She shakes her head, her lips twisted into a tight knot as she jabs a finger at Kit. ‘You’re the one cheating. Again.’
‘I am not cheating, Charlie.’ Kit holds his hands up, his eyes flicking from the irate woman to me and back again in quick succession.
Charlie? His bandmate Charlie is a woman? His girlfriend?
‘Who is this then?’ Charlie looks down at me, her lip curling as though she’s just spotted dog turd stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
‘She’s just a friend.’
I pull my whole body back to look at Kit. Just a friend? I don’t know what to do first: fight my case, chuck my frappé up all over the table, or punch him in his stupid, lying, philandering face. We were about to kiss just then. He’d spoken about our grandkids.
Charlie locks her gaze on me now, an eyebrow quirked. ‘I bet that’s news to you, huh?’
I open my mouth to agree that it absolutely is news to me, but nothing comes out. Not even a squeak of outrage.
‘Did you know about me? His wife?’
His wife? That’s settled it then. Vomit first, then violence. I place a hand over my mouth as I shake my head. No, I did not know Kit was married but I’m too shocked to utter the words.
‘Charlie.’ Kit scrambles out of his seat, squeezing past me roughly, and holds out a hand, palm up. ‘You’re making a scene.’
Charlie laughs, but she doesn’t look or sound amused in the slightest. ‘I don’t care if I’m making a scene. I’ll make as big a scene as I want to.’
‘Look.’ Kit makes his way towards his wife (his wife), his hands held up in surrender.
‘There’s nothing going on between me and Christina.
We’re just friends. Not even that. She messaged me, out of the blue, and I didn’t even remember who she was.
I just went along with it, to be kind. But she won’t leave me alone. ’
What? That isn’t true. It can’t be true. The universe brought us together and we were supposed to live happily ever after. It’s what I wished for.
‘I swear to you.’ Kit reaches out, letting his fingers rest gently on his wife’s arm.
‘Nothing happened. We were just chatting.’ Kit looks back at me, as though I’ll back up his bullshit, but I shake my head – no, I will not collude with you to gaslight your wife.
I push myself up onto jelly-like legs, stumble out of the coffee shop and stagger onto the tram, my head fuzzy and stomach churning as I replay everything that has just happened.
I am a fool, for believing in Kit and for believing in fairy tale wishes.
A message pings on my phone and I’m relieved to see it’s from Jonah and not Kit.
Thea’s revelation about the state of her marriage mustn’t have gone well – unsurprisingly – because they’re already at Rollerz.
I let Jonah know I’ll meet them there soon, because I too could do with a drink after my nightmare date.
Jonah and his sister are perched on stools at the bar, Jonah with his forearms resting next to his pint with his head dropped onto them while Thea rests her cheek on her upturned hand, her face glum. She tries to smile when she spots me heading towards them, but it doesn’t quite work.
‘That. Was. Excruciating.’ She pushes herself into a more upright position and scrunches up her face.
‘I thought Mum was going to have a stroke. She didn’t even say anything for, like, five minutes.
I’ve never seen her lost for words. And then she started to cry and begged me to give Daniel another chance.
But he didn’t actually have an affair. That’s what she said.
And when I pointed out that no, he didn’t physically cheat but I could never trust him not to again, she called me selfish, for not putting the kids first. Think what this will do to Asher and Francesca-Rose.
’ Thea’s mouth twists as she repeats her mother’s incorrect name for her grandchild.
‘As if being brought up in a tense, hate-filled household wouldn’t harm them. ’
Jonah sniggers. ‘It never did us any harm.’ He picks up his pint and takes a swig.
‘She told me I can’t get divorced, as if her words were law. I told her I would be divorcing Daniel, the sooner the better, so she threw her cutlery down like a toddler having a tantrum and left, dragging Dad with her.’
‘He never said a word. Never does.’ Jonah lifts his pint to his mouth again, gulping it down.
‘Browbeaten doesn’t come close to describing Dad.’
‘He’s an enabler.’ Jonah plonks his drained pint down on the bar. ‘He doesn’t say anything because it gives him an easier life.’
Rhys has wandered over and he leans on the bar, tilting towards Thea. ‘You look like you need another drink.’
She nods. ‘A big one.’
Rhys pushes himself away from the bar. ‘Large pinot?’
Thea stretches to look over the bar, focusing on Rhys’s trouser area. ‘Maybe later. I’ll have a drink first.’ She settles back on her stool while she sniggers at her willy quip.
‘You.’ Rhys points at Thea as he backs away towards the wine glasses. ‘Are a very naughty girl.’
Jonah wrinkles his nose as he slides his elbows over the bar so he’s inching towards me. ‘Are they flirting? Please tell me they’re not flirting.’
I shrug, not even able to bring up the fact that Rhys flirts with everyone.
‘Speaking of flirting.’ Jonah inches his body around on the stool so he’s facing me properly and pats the neighbouring stool. ‘How did it go with Kit?’
‘Badly. Really, really badly.’
Jonah’s eyebrows shoot up, getting lost in his curls. ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ I clamber up onto the stool next to his.
‘And do you know what? I quit the wish. I’ve had it with this stupid meet-cute thing.
I’m fed up with getting tangled in dog leads and my car breaking down and getting trapped in bogs, and I’ve lost count of the number of drinks I’ve had chucked over me.
And all for nothing!’ My lip is trembling as I meet Jonah’s eyes, and I can’t hold it back any more.
My chest aches with holding it together on the tram, but I break now I’m with people I can trust, and I burst into loud, snotty tears.
Enough is enough. I no longer want to meet-cute The One.