Chapter 21
21
NADIA
Spreadsheets really don t take your mind off heartbreak. And not to be too dramatic, I do think that is what I have about Tom. I genuinely feel actual physical stomach-clenching misery when I think about him.
So I ve been keeping myself very busy and I ve been doing okay really. I mean, at least ten people a day this week have asked me if I m feeling ill, and I m really not finding many jokes at all funny, which is quite scary, because life is kind of rubbish without finding the humour in things, and I m even not loving my food any more. But I ve been going out with friends a lot, I m thinking seriously about joining a gym, I ve been to the hairdresser s, I ve bought myself some new clothes; I ve basically lived the trying-to-put-a-brave-face-on-it-after-a-tricky-break-up thing, even though I have not in fact just had a break-up, I just had a one-night-stand with someone who I am in love with who is not in love with me, which I knew before I slept with him, so I shouldn t have let it get to me so much.
It doesn t feel good to have told him that I can t see him.
When I got his message I wanted to say yes, yes, yes, tell me when and where and I ll jump through hoops to be there (having first touched up my make-up and my hair and maybe changed into a nice new top). But I summoned up some self-respect and said a very polite not-on-your-nellie.
And now I m feeling really miserable.
Not so much because I said I can t meet him, but because when I saw that I had a message from him my hopes rose – soared – and for one second I fantasised that he d be telling me that he loved me and he just hadn t had the words before and could we be together.
I am so ridiculous.
And so I must focus as hard as I can on this extremely dry spreadsheet (there s a problem somewhere with the numbers adding up – they don t, but why ?) and then write a quick email to one of my clients (also about a spreadsheet, yay, exciting) and then I must focus very hard on enjoying myself hugely at the cinema with Gina this evening.
* * *
Just over a week later, it s Saturday evening and I m at Waterloo station, heading towards the clock, to meet Carole, Bea and Ruth. I told them a potted version of the truth (I spent ages trying to word it less embarrassingly and then just gave up – I didn t want to make Tom sound bad in any way – and just said that I d fallen in love with him and he didn t feel the same way so for my own sanity I can t see him for the time being), so they re going to see him and me separately for now.
Carole wanted to meet Bea, Ruth and me last Saturday but I had a wedding singer job on (I nearly burst into tears during a couple of the songs thinking about Tom because I m a complete idiot, but did just about hold it together, thank goodness), so we switched it to this Saturday.
I really, really get that Carole needs to keep extremely busy socially to distract herself from her divorce. I feel exactly the same way about Tom and I didn t even know him for that long. It s just that being around the three of them does, obviously, make me think of him, and that s uncomfortable.
I need to get over it, though, because Bea, Ruth and Carole are amazing women, who I care about a lot, and who I m lucky to have met, and I would like to know them forever.
Nadia. Carole walks towards me with arms outstretched and we share a hug.
I m a little bit surprised by the way she s dressed; she said she d booked a fancy restaurant with a fancy dress code for us, so I m in a nice dress, but she s in jeans, brogues and a jumper, looking great but not fancy-dress-code great.
I have a really big favour to ask, she says, which reminds me of how Tom and I broached our plus-one requests (what a stupid idea; I can t believe we actually did it).
Of course, I tell her.
Okay. Please don t hate me for this.
Carole, I could never hate you. Although I won t be thrilled if she s organised something I really don t want to do like going to naked-only steam rooms, for example. No. You don t wear a nice dress for that.
Okay. Well. Carole is looking very unlike herself. She s practically wringing her hands and standing on one foot and then the other and kind of looking over her shoulder. If I didn t know her better and know that it s basically impossible for her to be nervous, I d say that she was nervous. I would only ever want the best for you.
I nod.
And you re lovely and I hope that we stay friends forever. She s still hand-wringing. Very odd and extremely suspicious. What am I suspicious of , though?
I love all our Waterloo Five, she continues.
I narrow my eyes. What does she mean by that?
And so for that reason I have, not to put too fine a point on it, lured you here and I m going to go now. And then she envelops me in a gigantic hug, before releasing me and speed-walking away from me without looking back.
Leaving me to deal with the fact that Tom is standing in front of me.
I really, really wasn t expecting to see him.
I can t really move and I can t really think.
My eyes are still working (unlike the rest of me). I can see that clothes-wise he s almost painfully smartly dressed (also painfully handsome); he s wearing a very well-fitting navy suit, white shirt and sky-blue tie, plus shiny black shoes. Facial expression-wise, he s looking very intently at me and his lips are slightly pressed together and his eyebrows a tiny bit raised, which makes him look a little nervous, which makes sense given that I definitely explicitly said I didn t want to see him but he appears to have colluded with Carole to engineer a meeting anyway.
So I should really turn round and walk away, immediately.
Hi. His voice sounds a little hoarse, as though he hasn t used it for a while. I appreciate that you said you didn t want to meet, and I have to apologise for forcing your hand, but I wondered if we could talk.
He s right. He has forced my hand, and it s rude . I feel as though I should walk away. And the fact that right now I feel extremely desperate not to leave but to stay and gather any crumbs of his time that I can just tells me that I really shouldn t let myself stay.
Especially since, for all I know, the reason he wanted to meet might be something that would devastate me (even though it shouldn t), like, for example, that he wants to tell me that he s reconnected with Lola and is marrying her.
I don t think I can, I tell him.
I take one last look at his face, and then turn round quickly, before I can do something extremely embarrassing like bursting into tears, and begin to walk off as fast as my new and very nice wedges will carry me (not as fast as I would like).
I love you, someone hollers from behind me.
I freeze, because I m pretty sure that that was Tom s voice. And I almost think that he must have directed those words at me. Unless someone he actually loves has just come into view and he can t help yelling how he feels.
And then he shouts again. I love you, Nadia.
I stop walking and then turn round very slowly.
I stand still and Tom begins to walk towards me.
I love you, he says, stopping a few feet away.
I don t say anything because, well, I don t know what I think and I don t know what I should say. What does he mean by I love you ? Does he mean he loves me like a friend? Does he mean he loves me in an in-love kind of way? Does he really mean it? If he does really mean it, what does he want or expect to happen next?
He takes a couple of steps closer.
I fold my arms across my chest.
He stops walking.
I… He moistens his lips and then presses them together and then kind of purses them, and on anyone else what he s doing would just look weird, but now he s doing it I feel like it looks so cool it could catch on. Unfair. I ve been an idiot and I m very sorry and I wondered if you d like to have dinner with me.
I shake my head because I m not sure what to say.
Oh. Okay, he says.
No, I say, I didn t really mean no. Or maybe I did. I don t know whether I did or not. Very lucid.
Fair enough. Um. He looks at me for a moment and I just look back at him. Eventually, he says, I would very much love the opportunity to talk to you. To tell you some things and, obviously, to listen to anything you might like to say to me. And to apologise for being an idiot. That s why I asked Carole to help me um…
Lure me here? I supply. And also Bea and Ruth; they were in that chat.
Also Bea and Ruth, he confirms. And for the sake of openness, I should disclose that Carole told me that she spent a lot of her divorce party trying to set us up. The fortune teller was there only for us. And the massage and lunch prize was a spur-of-the-moment thing she dreamt up when she realised that you d won the casino competition.
I m open-mouthed. So sly. I don t know whether I m in awe or annoyed.
But entirely done from a position of caring about both of us, Tom says.
I nod. That is true. Carole is the walking epitome of heart-of-gold.
Well, I say.
Well? Tom asks when I don t continue.
I don t know.
We re still standing about a metre apart from each other.
He takes a cautious-looking step forward so there s now only about an arm s length between us.
Would you perhaps consider going for a walk instead of dinner if dinner seems too much?
I shake my head. These shoes were not made for walking.
No flip-flops in your bag?
Not really flip-flop weather.
Yeah.
And then we stand there again.
So not a walk, Tom says after a bit.
I could do dinner, I suddenly decide. Seeing Tom for however long we ve been standing here will have set me back quite a long way in recovering from him. So I might as well have dinner and hear what he has to say. If I m honest, I am extremely curious about what he meant when he said he loved me.
Are you sure?
Yep. If you still want to?
Yes, I really do. He takes another step closer. You know what? We could just order starters to begin with. And then if you don t want to stay you don t have to.
I smile at him for the first time. Maybe.
His lips edge up at the sides too, and I realise how very anxious he s seemed the whole time we ve been here together until now.
So shall we go? he asks. If you re sure?
Yep.
As we walk, I m very careful not to get within arm-brushing distance and I think he s doing the same thing, so there s a slightly unnatural gap between us, but we do at least begin to talk semi-normally.
No further foot or ankle injuries? Tom asks as we go down the main steps out of the station.
None.
Congratulations.
Thank you. I m very much enjoying my pain-free walking.
He directs me across the road in the direction of the embankment. I booked an Italian place. It has very good reviews.
Great.
By the time we re shown to our table, I m completely over the small talk. It s fine , but Tom used the phrase I love you , and – obviously – I don t really have much interest in anything right now other than establishing what he meant by that.
We re asked for our drink options.
I say, Tap water and a glass of house rosé, without looking at the drinks menu.
Tap water and a beer, Tom says, equally quickly.
When the server s gone, Tom says, So.
And I wait.
And then he says, I m so, so sorry for leaving the room like that after we… after that night. For not saying anything.
What would you have said? I ask, because now we re here I have to know.
He looks down at the table for a moment before meeting my eyes.
I d have said that I was really confused because I thought I was still waiting to hear back from Lola but I d had the most amazing night of my life with you and I felt as though I was cheating on both of you.
Oh. I m pretty sure that is not what I was wanting to hear.
Being honest. He reaches out and touches my hand very lightly just for a second. That is what I would have said if I was being honest. I was very confused. Because the whole time I ve known you I ve known that you re gorgeous and funny and had fast become my best friend even though I already had best friends, and also every time I had you in my arms I didn t want to let go, but the moment we met was when I was still thinking about Lola. I mean, at that point I was expecting to meet her and hoping very much to start a relationship with her. I had no expectation of meeting you , and at first I didn t think that way about you because I am not someone who would ever cheat on someone, and in my head I was hoping to get together with Lola. And I had – incorrectly – told her that I loved her and I felt as though that was a conversation that hadn t concluded, albeit a one-sided conversation.
He pauses as our drinks arrive.
When we ve thanked the server, Tom continues. So falling in love with you crept up on me. I didn t totally realise that I had. And when I realised that I had feelings for you I felt terrible about Lola. So I texted her to ask if she wanted to meet. And she said yes. And we met.
Oh. I had not expected that. Oh no. Is he trying to tell me that he loves me as a friend and he s together with Lola? But… would he do it like this? I don t know. I m very confused. I drink half my glass of water to try to clear my head.
When I was waiting to meet her, I just wanted to tell you about it. And while I was with her, the thing was, I didn t want to tell her about my divorce. Or about wanting to backpack across Europe on a budget after watching Race Across the World . Or about my new shoes. All the things that I wanted to tell you about. And I just kept thinking about you. And then I realised that the person I wanted to talk to, be with, love , all the time, was you. Is you. And that I d been the biggest idiot in the world. And I hope it isn t too late.
So… I m still not totally sure what he means. You met Lola and…
Quite quickly I told her that unfortunately I needed to leave and goodbye.
So… I don t know how much I should allow myself to hope.
I realised what you probably already knew, which is that the Lola thing was an insane fantasy, maybe related to my divorce. I love you. I don t think I ever loved her. I never really knew her; she was just an idea.
Yep, that s what I thought.
Were you tempted to tell me? He takes a sip of his beer, holding my eyes with his the whole time his lips are on the glass, which I find myself loving.
Kind of but also not, I say. I think sometimes people have to find things out for themselves.
Yeah. He takes another sip, still looking into my eyes. And I did find that out for myself. And I also realised how very much I love you.
My heart gives an annoying leap.
I don t want my heart to be leaping. Five minutes ago he thought he was in love with Lola. I don t want to get hurt. I don t like getting hurt. I really love him, so if we were to start any kind of relationship, which is what I think he might be suggesting, there s every chance I would get hurt, because who s to know whether or not he really loves me.
Obviously, he says, if I were to tell you that I would like nothing more than to begin dating you, it would sound as though I was to some extent jumping straight from one relationship to another. I mean, my relationship with Lola was in fact imaginary. But at the time I suppose it wasn t imaginary to me.
I think he might want me to say that no it doesn t sound like that. But it kind of does.
So I say, Yes.
He nods. Yeah.
I m going to have to sniff in a minute to stop myself from crying. I don t want to do that. So I look at the view of the river to my left and try to catalogue the contents of my fridge to take my mind off this .
Could I? Tom clears his throat and I look back at him. Could I possibly… That is to say, could we be friends? For a while? And then if you thought you might like to, we could maybe start dating in due course?
I stare at his very lovely face, my eyes suddenly feeling a lot dryer. I think that could be a very good idea.
I have missed you, I admit.
Me too.
I don t want to do friends with benefits, though, I say. It would hurt too much.
Wasn t suggesting it, Tom clarifies.
I hide a smile. Good then.
Happy to stay for starters?
They do have scallops.
And you can never say no to a scallop, Tom says. He s right.
He looks at the menu, and then looks up again. Would you be happy to stay for a main too?
The truffle linguine does look very nice.
Would you stay if it were pie and mash?
I pretend to consider. Debatable.
Just after we ve placed our orders, something occurs to me.
Why didn t Lola meet you at Waterloo that evening? It s always nice to have loose ends tied up. Like if you start reading a compelling mystery, you do want to get to the end.
Her husband came home early and she couldn t go out, Tom says. Not even joking. And you know, when she said it, I did not care at all . It was exactly the same for me as for you; it was an interesting detail to tie up a loose end, like reading to the end of a murder story you weren t even enjoying other than for the secret. She says they have an open relationship. Maybe her husband agrees, maybe he doesn t. Also, full disclosure, her son is called Tom. After me.
Wow. I m open-mouthed. I have to check my understanding of the situation. She named her son after another man she met while she was with the boy s father?
Yep.
Wow, I repeat.
Yep. And as she said it all, all I wanted to do was tell you about it. Because it s so ridiculous. And I was so ridiculous, believing that she and I had some kind of relationship. His features are completely serious. I don t really know how, but, as I think I might already have told you, you ve become my best friend. You re the person I want to talk to. Every time.
Same, I say simply.
Can I just say, he says. I really, really hope that you don t think that the fact that Lola s married had any bearing on my feelings. It didn t. I d already decided to leave when she told me. It was an after-thought question, like it was for you just then.
I nod. I realise that I really do believe that Lola being married (or not) was irrelevant to the way he feels about her. And me.
And me . I still can t quite believe it.
So… Starters and mains? Tom says. And also… maybe dessert?
They do have tiramisu, I point out.
Rude not to.
Yeah.
He reaches across the table and touches my hand again before withdrawing his own – maybe scared that I don t want him to touch me – and then says, very simply, his eyes on mine, I love you.
I look at his square shoulders straining his jacket the perfect amount, his squarer jaw, his lovely brown eyes with the fine lines at the corners, his beautiful lips, the slightly apprehensive expression on his face right now, and I think that what I like most about him is him , his kindness, his humour, just talking to him.
And suddenly I realise that my answer is easy.
I love you too, I say.
And then we just sit and beam at each other.