Chapter 19
‘If you’re getting sick,’ Nicole says, ‘you should not have come in today.’
I rub my stomach and lower my head. ‘I’m fine. Just, you know.’
She begins to talk about a viral infection her kids have, and I try my best to concentrate, yet Cian is now standing by his desk, in a dark-blue shirt, and driving his fingers through his hair in that way he does when tired or frustrated.
Was he really always up there?
‘You’re not listening to me at all,’ Nicole says in a loud voice.
‘I’m listening. Tell me.’
She tells me the exact same thing she did a minute ago and I miss it all over again because Cian is now looking back. He’s unreadable as always, yet the fact he holds my gaze for a few seconds then sits down, out of sight, says everything I need to know.
‘What’s wrong?’ Nicole asks. She follows my gaze behind her and up, then turns back to me.
‘How would you feel about swapping desks?’
Nicole takes me for a supermarket meal deal, and we eat it on one of the shaded benches in Soho Square while I tell her everything.
‘Go on then,’ I prod. ‘Say it.’
She shifts herself to the far end of the bench, trying to get the sun. ‘Say what?’
‘Say, I told you so.’
Nicole opens her sandwich and there will never be a day where I understand why people choose to eat prawn cocktail on bread. ‘I’m not going to say that.’
‘I want you to. I need to hear it.’
‘Sure, you’re a young fool who should have listened to me, your wiser, older friend, but I wouldn’t have listened to me either.
’ A tiny pink curl covered in mayo slips onto her lap.
‘You had your distraction, now said distraction is in your eyeline and you need to ignore him. You’ve done it before. ’
I point at the escaped prawn. ‘Done it before with who?’
‘Reginald,’ she offers, as if it were obvious.
‘Reginald was a drunken kiss at a corporate party. Cian was more than that.’
‘He’s just a man and there are many millions of them. Behold.’ She gestures out towards the square and while I do see men, I don’t see her point.
‘I thought you loved Cian.’
‘He strung you along while pining for his ex. He shouldn’t have done that.’
I want to be angry about this too, but the truth is, maybe it was me. Maybe I wanted him to want me so much that I read into things, every touch, every comment.
In the centre of the square, a group of fashion students take photographs of each other leaning against the mini-Tudor house.
‘You really liked him,’ she begins, ‘didn’t you?’
‘Like is definitely the wrong word.’
‘Love feels too strong. No?’
My coronation chicken is suddenly revolting. ‘I have no appetite.’
‘I feel bad about this.’
‘Don’t be. You did warn me. And the more I think about you saying Cian and I hung out through convenience and circumstance, the more I think you were right.
He used me. He was stuck at home and bored, of course he went along with some girl coming over to entertain and flatter him.
Now he’s back to his real life, he doesn’t need me anymore. ’
‘You really think that’s what it was?’
Sometimes I absolutely do; it makes perfect sense. Other times this seems too easy an explanation and doesn’t consider the warmth between us, the hours of conversation, the closeness we built.
‘Whatever it was,’ I say, ‘it’s over.’
‘Screw him.’
‘You don’t need to be mad at him on my behalf. I know you’re still friends.’
‘Marginally friends,’ she admits. ‘If you want me to start hiding his keyboard and mouse, I’m up for it.’
‘Thank you. Let’s get back, I’m so behind on work.’ I stand up, then lift a hand. ‘I should probably stop telling you that, sometimes I forget you technically manage me.’
She dusts the crumbs off on her lap. ‘You can tell me anything.’
I make a non-committal hum, knowing I will never tell Nicole, or anyone else, another thing about who I like.
‘You’ve had a lot going on this year,’ she says as we pass by the students, now arguing over a camera. ‘It’s time to focus on yourself again.’