Chapter 42
Tabitha
My heart hammering inside my chest, I was nervous to knock on the door, not even sure why I’d agreed to come to his place anyway.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Tim said, opening the door immediately. “You know Mum, of course. And this is Macy.”
I gasped. His mother had visible bruises on her face as she got up from her chair and limped to me.
Oh hell, had she been attacked?
“What happened, Mrs. Langston?” I asked, moving toward her.
“I took a tumble.” She looked shamefaced.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “It looks like a very nasty fall.”
I glanced at Tim, worried for him and his mother. Was this why he had to leave so abruptly from the hotel?
“Hello,” said a small woman with spiky pink hair. “Excuse me, but I’m going to disappear to fold the washing.”
“Hello, Macy. Nice to meet you,” I said. “Sit down, Mrs. Langston. Don’t stay up for me.”
I helped her hobble back to her chair and sat on the sofa to talk to her.
Being here was doubly painful, as I’d always loved spending time in this cozy home, which was the size of my parents’ drawing room and had always been so neat and orderly. I didn’t know what I expected when Tim asked me over. This was turning out to be very bizarre.
“How are your parents, Tabitha?” Tim’s mother asked. “How is their boarding house for dogs?”
Gosh, that was decades ago. Poor Mrs. Langston.
“They’re great. Thank you for asking.”
She wasn’t as…sprightly as I remembered her from when I’d last seen her in the grocery store two years ago.
Both she and her husband had always been quiet and low-key, allowing Tim and Amy to shine in the spotlight, but she’d had a spark and an authority, always dressed impeccably in jeans, a classic button-down, and loafers.
Now, she was thinner, drawn, her gray hair not as sharply bobbed, her clothing clean but not as smartly pressed.
“Now, where are you and Timmy going to ride Bessie and Bonnie this weekend?” she asked, joyfully clapping her hands. “You had such an adventure last weekend, all the way to Snowshill. What you two get up to, I don’t know.”
Bessie and Bonnie? Riding to Snowshill was when we were twelve years old.
I checked on Tim. He gave me a sad glance as he cleared away the papers on the kitchen table.
“Probably not. No riding this weekend, just working on the house,” I said. “With Tim.”
Tim called to Macy, who emerged from his mother’s room.
He faced her. “Tabs and I are going to head out.” Then he came over and patted his mother’s hand. “You’ll be in bed when I get back, so see you in the morning, Mum.”
I said goodbye to them both and followed him out the door, confused but also sad for Tim’s family.
Watching a parent decline must be hellish, but I still didn’t understand why he’d asked me to come here.
Why he’d left me at the hotel and had given me that odd look at his game, like he didn’t want me there.
Outside, I stopped and swung him around to me. “What’s going on? Where are we going? Why did you leave this morning?”
“Not here. Please just get in the truck. I promise I’ll explain everything.”
I wanted him to tell me right here, but I was just so tired.
Simon’s words about the design competition, being filmed so obviously at the rugby game, and then seeing Mrs. Langston again, with her injuries and memory issues—my emotions were going haywire.
And was Tim driving me somewhere to break the news that he didn’t want an us anymore? Would this be a repeat of our twenties?
Within a few minutes, we had pulled up at the river where we’d been before.
“What’s going on, Tim?” I asked. “Why did you leave this morning? And why did you invite me to your mother’s flat? That was—that was… I can’t believe you would put me in that awkward position.” I wasn’t yelling—yet. But I was boiling at holding this all in.
“What do you mean?” He turned to me. “Why are you so angry?”
“You’re going to dump me, aren’t you? Like last time. Except this time, you’re putting me through this weird interlude.”
“What?” His face was incredulous. “Dump you? Tabs, why would you think that? After last night, how could you think that?”
He was surprised at my reaction? “Why did you leave so quickly this morning?” I demanded.
“I got a call first thing from Macy. You were still asleep, and I left immediately. Mum found the keys to the flat, unlocked the front door, and walked to our old primary school, thinking she was picking us up, you and me, and when the school gate was locked, she was worried about us and climbed the fence. And she fell.”
“She fell off the fence? What?” My heart pounded hard as I took a moment to process this. I pictured that fence. It was high. How far had she climbed? “Oh God, Tim, that’s terrible. Horrible.” I put my hand on his.
“I had to call the police and the ambulance, and in the end, she was okay except for some scrapes and being frightened and tearful. But, Tabs, I don’t even know how long she was lying there.”
I unbuckled my belt then wrapped my arms around him. “That’s awful. Your poor mother. And poor you. But why didn’t you wake me this morning? I could have helped. I would have wanted to help.” But how? “Wait, I could have gone and picked up Amy and brought her up.”
Tim’s eyes darted to the side, guiltily. He didn’t want Amy brought up? Why?
“That’s funny. Amy said your mum wasn’t feeling well tonight.” I looked closer at him, slowly putting it all together. “Oh my God. Tim. You haven’t told Amy yet, have you?”
His face hardened defensively. “I’m definitely going to tell her tomorrow morning.”
An image flashed of him at the rugby game when he ran from the players’ tunnel past us and gave me an anxious look.
“I see now. That’s why you seemed so tense when you looked my way,” I said. “It was actually the sight of Amy that worried you, and you felt guilty.”
“Yes, exactly.” He pressed his temples. “That’s also why you thought I was breaking up with you—you thought I gave you that look.”
I felt like I was opening myself up fully, and he could see the vulnerable chasm of my anxieties and insecurities when it came to him. I had no reserves now, no shell, like I’d bared myself to him, and it felt scary. Was he willing to do the same?
“You’ve got to share things with me,” I said. “You can’t be on top of everything all the time, operating alone. I mean, I would have made myself available all day to talk. I want you to talk to me. I thought you’d broken up with me…like last time—ghosted me.”
He looked distressed. “Now I can see why you thought that. I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you again.” He took my hands. “I’m going to work hard so you can trust me again.”
“How are we going to make this work logically? Me being down in London, you up here?”
He seemed ready with an immediate response.
“I don’t mind the drive back and forth. After this morning, I certainly know the quickest way between London and here.
I’m going to make it work. I’m not sure how, but you’re worth the traveling.
” He looked determined at the thought of his plan, taking action, which was how he was built.
He was noble, sacrificing…and not the only one in this relationship.
“No, Tim,” I said.
“No?” His forehead collapsed.
“We are going to make it work. We are.” Last night, he had introduced the “we” into the bedroom, and now it was time for me to say it.
He smiled, his wonderful, handsome face a study in relief. “Okay, you’re right. We are going to make it work.”
“It’s going to be complicated.” I began to sort through what days I could work on the train and at Tim’s house, but honestly, this felt overwhelming.
Was it possible? Where was I going to stay?
Where was I going to work? Tim wasn’t living at his own house, and I couldn’t join him at his mother’s home.
Could I stay at the inn and work from there?
But hopefully by then, Mum and Dad’s business would be up and running, and they might even need my room.
“It’s not complicated.” He placed his forefinger under my chin and lifted my face to him. “You know why?”
I raised my eyebrows. Waiting.