Chapter Fourteen
Erin didn’t reply to the message straight away.
She thought about it as she stacked the cups in the dishwasher, and when she locked the door after the other members of book group left.
The pros and cons swirled in her head as she crossed Royal Parade and she still hadn’t decided when she arrived at Dartmouth Grove, or when she walked up the flight of stairs to her flat.
As she put the key in the door she wondered whether Adam would be able to tell she’d read what he’d sent.
If it was WhatsApp, two blue ticks would have appeared, but she didn’t know if iMessage was the same.
She didn’t want to leave him on read, but she also seemed completely incapable of deciding how to respond, because if she went along, that could be the start of something, which scared her.
‘How was book group?’ asked Jack. He was sitting on the sofa in jogging bottoms and a crumpled T-shirt, scrolling through his phone. He yawned, stretching his arms over his head. His T-shirt rode up and she saw his lower ribs protrude over his concave stomach.
‘Fine, thanks.’ She poked him in his middle and he curled inwards, groaning and pulling down his top. ‘You need plumping up.’
‘Body shaming, much?’ He pouted and laid his phone down on the cushion beside him.
‘I’m your mother. I worry about you.’ Still, the shame of knowing he was right made her regret her words.
Doing the right thing as a parent was impossible, and she’d always felt double the pressure since she was the only parental influence Jack had growing up.
Every misplaced word or sentiment could have an unintended impact.
He was a sensitive soul, infected by her anxiety. She needed to do better.
‘I’ve been living on chickpea curry for three years, remember? I promise to eat you out of house and café now I’m home, if that helps?’
‘It does. Thank you.’ She smiled at her gorgeous boy. Would she ever stop worrying about him?
‘Was Adam there tonight?’
He was looking at her with benign interest, but she kept her face impassive so he wouldn’t see there was anything significant about the question. ‘Oh, no, he wasn’t.’ Why did she add the ‘oh’? It sounded weird, like she’d practised it.
‘I hope he’s all right.’ Jack opened his mouth and stroked down the edges of his moustache.
He didn’t seem to have noticed she was acting strangely. That was good. Maybe he could help her decide what to do about the message. ‘He’s asked me to meet him tomorrow for a walk,’ said Erin, nonchalantly. It was all she could do not to scan the room, feigning disinterest.
‘So he hasn’t been knocked off his bike and laid up in hospital or anything. That’s good. Say hi from me tomorrow.’
He made it sound like a given that she would agree to meet this man they barely knew.
It wasn’t as simple as that. Adam made her feel things she didn’t want to.
Her life was unstable enough right now; the last thing she needed was a risky romance.
As soon as the word romance occurred to her, she felt like a fool.
He probably just wanted to discuss that article.
Internally, she berated herself for all this conjecture.
She didn’t need the wobbly emotions that came along with wondering if someone liked her.
Liked her? Jesus, what was she turning into? ‘I’m not sure if I’m going yet.’
‘Why wouldn’t you? Me and Riley are on the morning shift. You’re not due in until two.’ His top lip rose to show his pink gums. She wondered if his moustache tickled his nose when he did that.
‘I know, but …’ But what? She could hardly tell her son that Adam was the first man she’d found genuinely attractive in decades.
He certainly wouldn’t want to know that her attraction to his father had clouded her judgement for far too long, and that she wanted to avoid making the same mistake again.
The plain fact was that if she had feelings, then those feelings could get hurt.
They probably would. Things ended, and she was terrified of endings for very good reasons.
‘You haven’t got a good reason, have you?’
She bloody well did. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Mother.’ His voice was firm. ‘He’s a nice bloke, you said so yourself. He hasn’t asked you to go sky-diving, or micro-dosing mushrooms, he’s suggested a walk in the park down the road. If you’re overthinking that then you need to have a word with yourself.’
Had she said he was nice? She didn’t remember saying that. And why had micro-dosing mushrooms occurred to Jack? Her head went back to that awful time he was taken into custody, before she shook the thought away. He was older and wiser now. But he was right, it wasn’t that big a risk.
Adam might not even find her attractive.
She might be imagining his lingering looks, and that flirtatious smile of his.
She should stop flattering herself. The message said he wanted to chat about something and chat was a casual word – more casual than talk, or discuss.
It was probably to do with that article after all.
She should stop going around in circles and get on with it.
Added to that, she didn’t want to model being a scaredy-cat to her son.
‘All right then, bossy boots. I’ll go.’ She’d said it now, so she had to.
Her stomach fluttered like she’d just placed an enormous bet on the Grand National and the horses were already frothing at the mouth, straining for the start of the race.
‘Good.’ Jack yawned again, tugging down the bottom of his T-shirt as if shielding his stomach from her poking finger. ‘Right, I’m knackered and since my slave-driver boss expects me in work at 6.30am tomorrow, I’d better get to bed. Night.’
‘Night, love. Sleep well.’ She watched Jack wander off to his bedroom, opened up the message and forced herself to type.
See you at the park gates on Charlton Way at 12.