Chapter Thirty-Four #2
‘He would deserve to be put on TikTok,’ Sam says with conviction, and we grin at each other.
‘I’m more than happy to pass along my viral sensation mantle to him,’ I say.
Fran leans even closer. ‘I still see you pop up on my timeline a lot,’ they say mistily, wobbling slightly.
‘People sharing the Frankenstein Feminist, crusading all over social media, empowering women. Bloody cis men.’ They shoot a dark look across the room at the two cis men here – Jamal and Edward.
Sam and I exchange a discreet glance, wondering the same thing: What the hell has been going on over at the therapy collective?
I snort, trying to keep things light. ‘Yeah, well, being the Frankenstein Feminist is certainly better than being Tiramisu Girl.’
‘Or Cheesecake Woman,’ Sam offers helpfully.
‘Either way.’ I side-eye her. ‘It’s not a bad online legacy. The only part of the internet that still hates me is the manosphere. But I can’t tell you how fine I am with a bunch of incels in their mums’ basements ranting into their little boy headsets about me.’
Fran roars at this as the rest of us smile politely. They start talking about incels and snakes and politics – it’s becoming clear that they’re going through something.
I guess every therapist has their own issues, not just me. Every person.
I glance at Sam again, wondering if we can extract ourselves from this conversation, but it’s clear my flatmate has the opposite intention, shuffling even closer to Fran and their drama.
I sneak another look across the room. Edward’s no longer standing in the corner with Jamal, and my eyes dart around frantically, trying to find him. I can’t see him, where has he—
And suddenly he’s there. Standing beside me, shoulder to shoulder, taking over my personal space. The woody smell of him fills my nostrils. I didn’t even know I knew his smell so well until I am breathing it in. It sends all kinds of familiar sparks shooting through my unprepared body.
‘Olivia,’ he says, his head tilted sideways, looking down at me.
‘Edward,’ I reply, fighting the urge to laugh. It’s all so formal. He places a hand on the small of my back. The warmth of it radiates through me.
‘Look, can I—’ he begins, speaking to me in a low voice. I turn to face him properly, feeling the heat coming off the rest of his body. ‘Can we—’
We’re interrupted by Jamal shouting from the kitchen about something burning.
‘Dammit,’ Edward mutters, heading off at speed towards the kitchen. I feel suddenly very thirsty, watching him go, and look around for the wine. Maybe I should join Fran in the bitter drunk club.
As we sit down for dinner, I find myself seated across from Edward. A part of me wants to stretch my legs out to touch his but he’s got them carefully and strategically tucked underneath himself. The message is clear.
‘We’re so glad you came tonight, Liv!’ Fran shouts loudly from down the end of the table.
‘Thanks, everyone,’ I reply warmly. ‘And thanks loads for inviting me.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Fran is still shouting, but there’s much more in their voice.
Much more unsaidness. They sound even more pissed off.
The table looks down at them. They raise an eyebrow.
‘C’mon, let’s not be fake about it.’ Fran takes another long swig of their wine.
Sam’s mouth gapes open – she’s enthralled.
Arshiya tries to interrupt, ‘Fran, let’s not—’
‘Because not everyone wanted Liv to come, did they?’ Fran yells.
I stare down at the salad on my plate. I’d decided to avoid the messier foods, given who is sitting across from me, but now I wish I had something more exciting to focus on.
‘Fran!’ Jamal says sharply, but they’re undeterred by the table’s hostility.
‘We had a little argument about it actually,’ they explain, nodding in my direction. I stay staring down, thinking about Arshiya’s message.
We have been having a raging debate about whether to invite you…
I hadn’t taken that very seriously. I thought she was being playful. I’d taken Arshiya at her word that they were just worried about making an ex-colleague uncomfortable. But it’s clear Edward didn’t want me here. He fought to stop me coming.
I shouldn’t be here.
Edward finally speaks. ‘Fran, that’s enough now.’
‘Fine,’ they say, sounding like it’s very much not fine.
We eat in silence.
I daren’t look up.
I really shouldn’t be here. I wasn’t welcome.
I’m an interloper. I was the troublemaker when I worked with them, bringing my internet drama to their doors, ruining the collective’s reputation and dragging Edward into things.
And when I finally do the right thing and leave, here I am anyway, months later, still forcing myself into their private evenings together when I wasn’t wanted.
I shouldn’t have come.
‘Hey, look, I’m going to…’ I push my chair back awkwardly, feeling a lump in my throat.
‘I need to get home actually. I’ve just realised I’ve got a whole bunch of work I need to…
’ I don’t finish my sentence; I stand instead and turn on my heel.
Behind me, I hear Sam exchanging sharp words with someone as I take off for the front door.
I hear her footfall behind me, but I’ve got the front door open before Sam can catch me.
I make it outside before her hand lands on my shoulder. I turn and—
Oh.
It’s not Sam. It’s Edward. He looks upset.
‘Olivia,’ he begins, ‘Liv.’
‘What?’ I snap, then inhale, trying to get my emotions under control.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I continue, ‘I know you didn’t want me to come tonight.
And I’m so sorry I’ve caused tension with the team.
But I’m going, okay? I’m leaving – you got what you wanted.
You can get back in there and enjoy your evening without me causing problems. Tell Sam I’ll see her at home. ’
He frowns at me. ‘You’re wrong.’ He pauses. ‘I’m the one who told Arshiya to message and invite you earlier,’ he says softly, looking pained. ‘I want you here. I want you…’ He swallows. ‘… here.’
‘You do?’ I can’t look at him.
He sighs. ‘If you really want to know what that was all about, it was Jamal. He and Fran fell out earlier. They felt he was being two faced and unkind, but Fran doesn’t know the full story. Jamal was the one who said you shouldn’t come to the dinner.’
‘Jamal?’ I ask, feeling hurt and confused. I thought we’d always got on just fine.
‘It’s not—’ Edward sighs again, this time with frustration. ‘It’s not anything to do with— Look, Liv, he was just trying to protect me, all right?’
‘Protect you?’ I blink.
Edward bites his lip. ‘He didn’t want you to come tonight because he knew it would mess with my head.
’ I look up now properly, searching his eyes as he continues.
‘He thinks you make me crazy – and I guess you do! You have done for years! I’ve been so madly in…
’ He swallows again. ‘I seem to have a habit of making very unprofessional choices when you’re around.
I said yes to being your therapist when I knew I shouldn’t; I said yes to being on that TV show when I knew I shouldn’t – both times because I thought I was helping you.
I came to a dinner at your house. I… kissed you.
I kissed a client!’ He waves his hands around, looking so untethered.
‘I nearly ruined my career, undermining all my own ethical guidelines. I nearly fucked everything up that I’d worked for, and Jamal was with me through all of that.
He was who I was confiding in.’ He sighs.
‘And then you quit the group, you left the office, and I was even more of a wreck. Jamal had to pick up the messy pieces. He had to look after me when I was crying on his shoulder every night, watching old videos of you giving callers advice on Morning Tea. I couldn’t stop talking to him about bloody tiramisu. ’
I smile at this because I can’t help it. But my head is spinning over his words. Edward was upset about me? He was a wreck? He cried over me . . ? God that’s so hot.
So wait… what does this mean? What did he say? Edward… loves me? I can’t quite fathom it. He loves me? Did he say… years?
‘But why didn’t you message or reach out?’ I ask weakly.
He blinks. ‘I thought you hated me. Our last conversation…’ He shakes his head.
‘You felt like I’d betrayed you, like I’d let you down.
And I felt like I had. Plus, I still didn’t know if how you said you felt was just transference or – I don’t know – a rebound after Justin.
’ He smiles wanly. ‘But then you came tonight. And the way you looked at me…’
‘I was so desperate to see you, I couldn’t stay away,’ I admit, something in my chest loosening and releasing. ‘And I’m so sorry for making you feel like this. I had no idea.’
‘Well.’ He smiles again. ‘I guess it’s good that I was able to maintain my professional facade for at least some of the time.’
‘You were so goddamned professional,’ I say, wishing he was in one of his fancy three-piece suits, so I could undo a shirt button. ‘Apart from all the kissing.’
‘There wasn’t that much kissing,’ he replies, biting his lip again. I can feel his eyes on my mouth. We inch a little bit closer, staring in wonder at each other. My body temperature is rising with every passing second.
‘There could’ve been more kissing, I guess,’ I concede.
He steps even closer. ‘There could be so, so much kissing,’ he murmurs, and then – at last – he reaches for me.