Chapter twenty-three
Freya
The tap doesn’t drip anymore. Funny that my tap is now functioning better than I am.
I stand there long after the door shuts behind Rory, staring at the cupboard under the sink. It just sits there, smug and watertight, while my heart is doing something reckless inside my ribcage.
I press my fingers to my lips. I did not imagine that, and it most definitely was not one sided.
He leaned in. He leaned in. And then I pulled back.
Because I am not seventeen. I am not waiting in a clearing in the woods for him to decide whether I fit into his five-year plan.
I am not a placeholder. I am not a hometown comfort blanket.
I am a grown woman who has survived betrayal, childbirth, funerals and PTA meetings.
And yet, my stomach flips just thinking about how close his mouth was. Idiot.
I grab my phone before I can spiral further and open Clara’s chat.
Freya: If I tell you something, you are not allowed to be dramatic.
Three dots appear instantly.
Clara: I am always dramatic. Continue.
I hesitate for half a second. Then I type.
Freya: Rory came over to fix the tap.
Clara: OH MY GOD.
Freya: I literally just said…
Before I can finish my message, another comes.
Clara: WAS HE SHIRTLESS.
Freya: No. So much for not being dramatic!
Clara: Missed opportunity.
Freya: Focus.
Clara: Fine. What happened?
I stare at the screen. How do you summarise a near-kiss that felt like it could rearrange your entire life?
Freya: We nearly kissed.
There is a pause this time. A longer one.
Clara: Nearly? Wow Sunshine. You need to get out more. Expand…
Freya: Under the sink. He hit his head. I checked he was okay. It was… a moment.
Clara: A MOMENT. I love a moment.
Freya: Stop shouting.
Clara: WHY DID YOU NOT KISS HIM.
There it is. The question everyone else finds simple.
Why didn’t you? Because it wasn’t just a kiss.
Because kissing him would not be casual.
It would not be a test. It would not be something you can laugh off later.
Kissing Rory Bennett would mean stepping into something that could either be extraordinary or catastrophic.
Freya: Because he left and went to the city and to Miss Supermodel.
Clara: That was years ago.
Freya: That doesn’t erase it.
I pace the kitchen.
Freya: He loved me. Apparently. But he was “busy.”
Clara: He loved you? Past tense? Frey, that man still loves you. Men are idiots at twenty.
Freya: He disappeared.
Clara: He came back.
Freya: After building an entire life without me.
Clara: And now he’s here.
Freya: And what if I’m just the soft landing? The back-up plan?
Clara doesn’t respond immediately. Then:
Clara: But Sunshine, what if you’re not. What if you’re the reason he’s back. What if something good could actually come of this and you’re too scared to try.
I close my eyes. It’s not the fear of kissing him, it’s the fear of what happens after. Because if I let him in and he leaves again, I don’t just lose a crush. I lose him. Again. And this time, it would be deliberate.
Freya: He doesn’t get to almost kiss me and then act like he’s unsure.
Clara: He admitted he loved you.
Freya: Loved. And he admitted it badly
Clara: He’s emotionally constipated.
Freya: DO NOT.
Clara: Freya.
There’s no joke in the next message.
Clara: You’ve wanted him your entire life.
Freya: Wait how do you…
Before I click send, another message comes in.
Clara: I can see it in the way you look at him. If you don’t kiss him because you don’t trust him, that’s one thing. If you don’t kiss him because you’re scared it might actually work, that’s another.
I sink onto the sofa. I am not reckless. I cannot afford reckless. But I also cannot ignore that when Rory looked at me today, it wasn’t nostalgia, it was recognition. And when I almost kissed him, it wasn’t weakness, it was want.
Freya: I don’t know if I want to kiss him because I love him…
My thumb hovers.
Freya: …or because I never stopped wanting to.
Clara: Those might be the same thing.
I stare at the message. I just don’t know yet whether it will shift toward something beautiful or something that will wreck us both. And that’s the part that terrifies me most.