Chapter 30 #2
‘You know I’ve always raised Madeleine to be a young woman who owns her sexuality and takes what she wants from men on her terms,’ Mum says proudly. She dips a spoon into the chilli, tastes it, and does a dramatic chef’s kiss that has me rolling my eyes.
‘Yes you have,’ Belle says, ‘and I’ve always admired that. And, look, I agree with her that Zach probably has zero intention of trying to find Wife Number Two anytime soon—I think he’s just looking to blow off some steam which, obviously, no one will blame him for.’
‘There’s definitely a lot of blowing off,’ I mutter to myself.
‘But, between you and me, I feel like Mads might be getting attached. He’s a seriously great guy, but obviously his home-life is complicated. I’m a bit worried he’ll hurt her without realising it.’
‘Hello? You realise I’m right here, yes?’ I demand.
Belle rounds the island and slinks her arm around my waist so she can rest her golden head on my shoulder.
‘We know you’re here. And we both love you an obnoxious amount, which is why you need to put up with us being overprotective.’
‘I know,’ I say ungraciously.
‘A few months ago, you helped me pick up the pieces when Dad went nuclear, and you used the B-word on me.’ She nudges me with her elbow. ‘You know you did.’
I sigh. ‘Yes, I did. Should I be regretting that right about now?’
Boundaries.
One of the biggest life lessons Mum taught me and the most important building block for healthy relationships.
They’re also something Belle’s parents never put in place with her.
They (and therefore she) never got the memo that she was allowed to choose her own belief system and lifestyle, so she’s had to build boundaries from scratch.
She’s had help from me and Rafe, but boy has it been painful for her.
I pride myself on having sky-high, rock-hard boundaries, but I have a feeling Belle and Mum are about to offer me another perspective. I mean, they’ve both already dropped B-bombs in the past thirty seconds.
‘Babes,’ Belle says, peeling herself off me.
‘I just want to make sure Zach doesn’t either break your heart, or drain you of all your energy, or both.
I know you’ve done all the work and you’re a super strong person, but you also have a very big heart.
You’re a giver. Just don’t give him so much that you’ve got nothing left. ’
Now this is utter, utter bullshit. Where the hell is she getting this crap from?
‘We’re fucking,’ I tell her, brandishing a chickpea crisp at her for effect. ‘That’s it. I’m having fun, he’s having fun. End of story.’
Mum and Belle exchange a glance. ‘Okay,’ Belle says in that patient, humouring voice a teacher might use on a small child.
‘But you’ve told me things have been getting a bit more intense recently.
Like him coming over, and you babysitting for the girls, and him having that wobble on you the other day? ’
‘He had a bad day!’ I say. ‘That’s what happens when your wife dies and leaves you with two fucked-up kids to raise. And when you have a bad day, you share it with your person. That’s what relationships are for.’
Oh, fuck.
They both stare at me, and with good reason, because I called myself his person, and I used the R-word. Dear God, have I lost all self-respect?
I glare at them both and tip the remainder of my wine down my throat before holding out my glass. ‘Refill. Please.’
Belle edges towards me with the bottle, concern written all over her face. Neither of them needs to score a cheap shot right now, because I’ve just scored the most epic own-goal ever.
Fuck.
‘We’re not in a relationship,’ I say, backtracking. ‘It’s just… there’s an intimacy there, you know? And we work together—so forced proximity and all that crap. We’re colleagues. And friends. I’d be a sociopath if I noticed he was upset and didn’t step in.’
‘Of course you would,’ Mum says soothingly.
‘And, darling, there’s nothing wrong with being in a relationship.
Relationships are terrific! And he sounds like a wonderful guy.
We just want to make sure you remember that a healthy relationship is one where both parties are also healthy, that their wells are full enough for them to give their partner what they need.
‘And we know your well is overflowing, my love, but’—she grimaces—‘it sounds like it’ll take time for his to fill up.’
‘I know that.’ I sound churlish, and I can’t help it.
Nor can I help the tiniest pinpricks of moisture that appear in my eyes.
It’s not my fault—I’m feeling attacked here.
‘You both seem to have forgotten that I actually have no interest in an old-man boyfriend—sorry Belle—with two kids. Uh-uh. No interest at all.’
‘That’s good,’ Belle says in the most unconvincing tone ever.
‘As long as you are getting what you need out of this, er, non-relationship,’ Mum says. ‘And not giving more of yourself than you can afford.’ She comes towards me and engulfs me in a huge hug that has my eyes stinging even more badly.
‘Look, darling,’ she says over my shoulder.
‘There are people in this life who are takers by nature, and that makes them drains, and those are the ones we avoid, hmm? But there are also truly good, wonderful people who have so much to give when they’re in a good place, but who may end up draining us all the same when they’re struggling, without either party being remotely aware of it. ’
She rubs my back in large, comforting circles. ‘And those kinds of relationships can be the least healthy of all because no one’s actually to blame. I mean, no one would begrudge this guy—Jack?’
‘Zach,’ I mumble into her hair as, over her shoulder, Belle makes a heart shape with her fingers and holds it out towards me.
‘Zach. Of course. No one would begrudge him anything that makes him feel better. But if he’s just looking for a…
palate cleanser, then make sure you’re happy with just being that for him.
All I’m saying is, try to maintain a little perspective, darling, and check in with yourself regularly.
Okay? And make sure you are both communicating.
’ She pulls away so she can make eye contact.
‘If I’ve taught you anything, it’s that communication is the key to all healthy relationships. Communication and boundaries. Yes?’
She releases me and pinches my cheeks.
‘Yes,’ I sigh. Zach and I do communicate. A lot. But I suspect the type of communication Mum means isn’t good girl, or fuck me harder, or you’re so wet for me.
Zach opened up to me on that bed at work the other day. But aside from insidiously dangerous comments like I wish I could spend the night curled around you, neither of us has set any verbal boundaries since we started using each other’s bodies for the basest and purest form of pleasure.
I have a horrible feeling Mum’s right and we need to redraw some lines.
The problem is I have no idea what the fuck we have or how to draw lines around it.