‘Are we going?’ I wrinkled my nose, not sure I could stand singing carols next to Sam in church and still keep a straight face.
‘Hell, no!’ He laughed again, pulling me tighter still. ‘But they invited you, which means they like you. You’re in.’ Sam leaned in closer to whisper into my ear, as if I’d somehow made my way into their secret society. I hoped it included membership to Soho House. ‘We should go back to the table,’ Sam sighed, pulling away. ‘Or they’ll think we’re up to something.’ I took his hand as he guided me through the dimly lit restaurant, fairy lights illuminating hidden corners, with merry businesspeople filling every space, toasting the festive season. Weaving left and right through the restaurant’s many rooms, Sam stalled at a bauble-covered tree, his dad’s voice bellowing from our table behind it. ‘A fine art degree, what’s she going to do with that? My money was on Sam meeting another doctor…’
Sam gripped my hand tighter and tried to pull me forward, longing to stop the overheard conversation in its tracks. I halted, a cocktail of embarrassment, curiosity and stubbornness fixing me to the spot. Sam glanced at me, panicked, his own face fixed with confusion, like he had only just realised I wasn’t a doctor too.
‘She could do a lot of things, John.’ Sam’s mum spoke up from the other side of the tree. Its happy lights mocked me, no longer as jolly as they had first seemed. ‘Art therapy, art journalism… She’s clearly a very bright girl, she can do a lot more than just paint.’ Sam’s eyes were still glued on me, his hand willing me forward. I didn’t want to move, not sure if I should feel insulted or affirmed by Molly’s latest comment.
‘You’re right, Molly. You’re right,’ I heard John sigh as I imagined him placing a hand on Molly’s arm, in the same way Sam did when he surrendered to me. ‘And they’ve only been together for what, three months? It’s not like he’s in love with the girl.’
Sam squeezed my hand harder as we emerged, both his parents looking up, mouths zipped, smiles painted on; the moment was over, poise resumed. Sam slid into the booth first and I followed, forcing a smile onto my own face as I tried my best not to cry. I wanted them to like me. Sam loved them; I needed them to like me.
‘Food shouldn’t be long now, sweetheart.’ Molly placed a hand on Sam’s arm, which he quickly shrugged away. Molly stiffened in surprise, using the same hand to push her grey-blonde bob behind her ears and reveal a set of large emerald teardrops dangling there. ‘Great choice with the chicken, Jess. You’ll want two!’ I knew she was trying to be nice but now it felt like a comment on my assumed stomach capacity. I forced another smile, weak and worrisome.
‘I am,’ Sam blurted out. He looked from me to his mum and dad in turn, a quiver of anger tightening his lips.
‘You are what, darling?’ Molly asked in confusion.
‘We heard you, just then, saying I’m “not in love with the girl yet” but I am; I really am.’ Sam turned to me, the same look of apology on his face. I was too; I knew I was. I was just waiting for the right time, waiting for the right place – which I never thought would be across from John and Molly after they’d just made it clear that I wasn’t the girlfriend they’d hoped for their son.
Sam looked deep into my eyes. ‘I’m in love with you, Jess.’ He smiled. ‘I am.’
‘I’m in love with you too,’ I whispered back, despite being mere inches away from his parents. Out of the corner of my eye I could see both of them stir, but my focus remained on him. He leaned in to give me a parent-appropriate peck on the lips. The moment stretched on before it was finally broken by a throat-clearing cough from John and an apologetic flurry of, ‘I guess we need some bubbles to celebrate?’
Chapter 11
2 August 2020 – Sydney, Australia
‘Jess… I…’ Sam began to stutter, taking another sip of champagne. I took another gulp.
‘How dare you?’ I hissed under my breath. ‘How dare you invite me into your home with her and let me use your room and pretend everything is so totally completely normal only to have Jamie tell me – not you, Jamie – that the two of you are engaged?’
‘Jess, I…’ Sam repeated again; he always did forget his lines. ‘I tried to tell you but then…’
‘You said you were home alone most of the time—’
‘I told you there were two of us,’ he argued back, knowing he hadn’t said enough.
‘You should have told me more. You should have told me everything,’ I whispered furiously, knowing I had already said too much.
‘I tried to tell you, last night, I tried, but then—’
‘You should have tried to tell me again.’ I knew Sam would do anything to keep the peace, to please anyone, everyone – but for a smart guy he didn’t seem to realise you couldn’t do that without tying yourself in knots. ‘Just tell the truth, for once.’ The irony of the comment wasn’t lost on me, but right then I felt I was less guilty than him.
‘Jess, I think you are overreacting.’ Sam looked shiftily across the courtyard.
I knew I was overreacting. And yet, I didn’t care. I didn’t give a shit. I took another gulp.
‘Overreacting? How would you feel?’ I said, leaning in further still. ‘You bump into me, looking great…’ Sam grinned for a moment before my glare took the expression straight off his face. Now wasn’t the time for all his misplaced flirtation, if it had ever been there in the first place. ‘And you tell me not to worry, I can come back to yours and drink wine – and then you offer me the spare room but neglect to tell me you have a live-in fucking fiancée.’ I winced at my final words. I couldn’t help it; tears were starting to prick in my eyes.
‘Jess, it’s been years. I know we ended badly but I didn’t think it would affect you so much.’
‘Then why didn’t you tell me?’ I asked. ‘If it was such a non-thing, if we were such a non-thing, then why didn’t you tell me about Jamie the second you invited me back to yours?’
‘Because…’ Sam stuttered, eyes darting around the room for his fiancée to return.
‘Because what, Sam?’ I snapped. ‘Tell me why I’ve had to fake my “I’m so happy” face whilst I feel this small.’ I gestured, pinching my finger and thumb together, my hand shaking. ‘I wish you’d just told me, so I could have avoided this situation entirely.’
Overreacting was now an understatement, but between the anger and the champagne bubbling in my stomach I was finding it impossible to stop.
‘That’s the point,’ Sam said. ‘I didn’t want you to avoid my place. Jess, I’ve missed—’
‘Jamie!’ I exclaimed, seeing her three feet away from the table.
‘We ordered?’ She looked from me to Sam. Say something, Sam, say something. And not that you miss me. Not as we are toasting your engagement. Why was I here, in this impossible situation? It had been years. And yet, it still meant something to me. And looking over to Sam, all panic and confusion, it looked like it still meant something to him too. But what did that matter now?
‘No, baby,’ Sam said, looking from Jamie to me, his lady to his tramp. I bit back angry tears, trying not to cry. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure, never ever again.
‘No worries,’ Jamie replied. She looked around the room and two seconds later our orders were taken. Five minutes later our food had arrived – I suspect stolen from some less attractive diners who would now have to wait another forty minutes for theirs. Two salads and a burger and fries. If I was going to sit through a dinner with my ex-boyfriend and his fiancée, I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it eating a salad. I took a gulp of my wine. And another, and another, just enough to turn their chatter into white noise.
‘So tomorrow, nine a.m.,’ Jamie’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked into her perfect face, now slightly blurred. Another gulp.
‘Huh?’ I asked, as I slapped away the waiter’s ever-attentive hands; there were five fries left on my plate. You could take my boyfriend, Sydney, but you’d never take my fries.
‘Your first day at CreateSpace? Y
ou’ll arrive at nine a.m.? Sam and you can carpool.’ Jamie smiled, entirely unaware that anything or anyone around her was anything but perfect.
‘Oh no, I’ve put you out too much already.’ I shook my fuzzy head. ‘I’ll make my own way there.’ And once I’ve earned just a little bit of money I’ll be out of your stupid hospitable apartment and stupid hospitable lives for good. Less than one week to sort it out and get out.
‘Jess, did you not just hear me say?’ Sam asked. Evidently not, Sam. ‘My surgery is pretty much next door to CreateSpace, in Woolloomooloo.’ Was I the only one who couldn’t say it?
‘No seriously, it’s okay.’ I fixed my stare on Sam, eyes telling him to back off in the subtlest of ways; I knew he could feel it but was pushing for me to accept the lift, to pretend – for his sake or Jamie’s – that nothing was wrong.
‘I’ll be driving that way anyway, I can show you the area, make sure you’re on time…’ Sam said, his eyes begging me to let him make everything okay again. Something told me he wouldn’t let it go, that all of this was signalling, screaming: he couldn’t let us go. But what did that matter now? He was getting married.
‘Jess?’ Sam asked again, pleading for me not to make a scene.
‘Yes, yes, fine,’ I said, a little too abruptly. ‘Me and Sam. Carpool. Woolloo— tomorrow.’ They smiled knowingly. Me and Sam. In a confined space. Alone. Where he could finally explain himself, and finish that sentence. I’ve missed… I’ve missed…
Chapter 12
3 August 2020 – Sydney, Australia
I’ve missed my alarm.
‘Jess? Jess?’ I could hear Sam on the other side of the door. ‘Can I come in?’
‘No!’ I shout-whispered, clambering out of bed and accidentally knocking Jamie’s photo off the bedside table as I did. Shit.
‘What was that?’ Sam hissed.
‘Nothing, nothing,’ I assured him as I collected the shards of glass that had broken in the frame. Rushing to the mirror, I smoothed down my hair. Unlike yesterday morning, today was not a good make-up-less day. Today was a hungover, far from Clinique-d, slightly green-looking make-up-less day. How much had I drunk? The fact I couldn’t remember told me all I needed to know. I didn’t have time for this.
‘You almost ready?’ Sam asked in a whisper, despite the fact that my recent photo-smashing incident had probably already woken Jamie – and the neighbours as well.
I looked at myself in the mirror again. If I was going for the homeless-meets-scarecrow look then yes, yes I was ready. Emotionally, on the other hand, I couldn’t think of anything worse than another day spent tangled up in Sam’s new life whilst trying to untangle my own.
‘Almost,’ I lied. Just a couple of shifts at CreateSpace and I’d have some money to move, not that I hadn’t outstayed my welcome already. If my comatose response to Jamie’s church-going confession didn’t do it then my anger at Sam’s omissions certainly would.
‘Great, I’ll start the car,’ I heard Sam call, before his muffled footsteps faded into the distance on the other side of the door. Shit.
Quicker than a Katy-Perry-at-the-VMAs costume change, but much less glamourous, I slipped on a pair of ripped black jeans, my favourite bra (and the only one I could find) and an oversized sheer white blouse and headed for the door. Sam sat in the driver’s seat, door open, shirt collar undone, sunglasses on, a silly grin dancing across his face. Oh God, did he have to look like that? All this time and I still wasn’t immune to Sam in a suit. I smiled back. Thank God he didn’t have to wear a tux to work. A tux. Just like the one he would wear in two months. Eight weeks. Fifty-six days. And my smile was gone. How the hell had Sam convinced me to stay without telling me he planned to stay with Jamie forever?
‘Taken the laid-back look for your first day?’ Sam joked. How dared he? If he assumed we could just forget about yesterday’s humiliation and move on, he didn’t know me that well.
‘Hey,’ I began, hand on hip, hating every inch of that smile I had once loved. ‘I’ll have you know artists love the no-make-up look.’
‘Yeah, it was more the no shoes look that I had in mind.’
I looked down at my feet. Oh crap.
‘Be right back.’ I turned on my naked heels as I heard Sam, against all his better judgement, burst into laughter behind me.
Kitten heels on, I strutted towards the car, sliding into the passenger seat. Sam closed his door and turned to me, the same smile circling around his silly, pretty mouth.
‘Yes?’ I asked, all attitude, eyebrow raised. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Apart from your crazy ex-girlfriend to prove she can dress herself in the mornings.
‘Where to?’ he asked, grin holding fast. How dare he? Was he actually joking? Trying to make light of the fact that he’d lied me back into his life – well, kind of.
‘Across the city,’ I replied, turning to close the door behind me.
‘But where?’ Sam’s smile broadened. He was going to make me say it. Woolloo…?
‘CreateSpace,’ I replied defiantly.
‘I’m going to need you to say it,’ he said, ‘just one more time.’
‘You’re a wanker, you know that, right?’ I smiled oh-so-sweetly in reply, never meaning words more. ‘Just drive.’
Sam laughed again as he turned the key in the ignition – clearly this, us, was a joke to him. Or maybe it was the lightness and laughter he missed? His mornings must be so much less entertaining now that he wasn’t landed with a crazy woman for a girlfriend. In fact, I knew his mornings would be less entertaining; Sam always loved to wake up and… shut up, shut up, shut up. I turned the radio up to drown out my thoughts. A couple of tuneless tracks later, he reached to turn the volume back down.
‘Thank God,’ I half-joked, rolling my eyes. Sam’s taste in music was as bad as his taste in movies.
‘J,’ Sam began earnestly, not taking his eyes off the long, commuter-filled road before us. ‘About last night.’
I inhaled silently, heart beating faster. Why did it still do that? Didn’t it know that it wasn’t supposed to do that around him any more? He was engaged. Engaged. But as much as he should have been the one to tell me, the fact that this broke my heart was my shit to deal with, not his. He had welcomed me into his home after a shock neither one of us could have ever expected. After spending our early twenties thinking we had everything mapped out, we were now in uncharted territory. Plus, if we were going to chart up our recent lies and omissions, I wasn’t sure I had any legs – or shoes – to stand on.
‘I overreacted,’ I said.
‘Yeah.’ Sam nodded, still not taking his eyes off the road. I thumped his arm. ‘Ow!’
‘That’s not your line!’ I moaned, turning to face his stubbled, strong profile.
‘Well, you did.’ He didn’t back down. ‘But I owe you an apology all the same.’
‘I think so.’
‘Jess, would you shut up for one moment?’ Sam asked. ‘I’m trying to apologise.’ He elongated the word. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was living with Jamie when we met, and I’m sorry you had to find out about our engagement from her. That wasn’t fair – at all. It’s the last way I would have wanted you to find out and I guess the truth is, I knew you’d be bothered. Because… well… the truth is, I’d be bothered too. Really bothered. We spent university together, we thought we were in love.’
Thought? I was. Hopelessly, uncontrollably. Impossibly.
‘We were each other’s first…’ he continued. I raised an eyebrow. We both knew I was far from his first. ‘…real relationship, each other’s first real love.’
Or so we thought, Sam.
‘I know we talked about our own wedding.’
Mix-tapes as favours and ‘Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It’ for the first dance.
‘And I know it was all tongue in cheek…’
There was nothing tongue in cheek about Will Smith.
‘But I knew that when one of us got engaged for real, it w
ould hurt and, well… I didn’t want to hurt you. I was going to tell you, obviously I was going to tell you, but I just knew that if I did you’d never come back to ours and I was so excited to see you, and I’ve missed you and… I’m sorry.’
Silence filled the inside of the car and for the first time in my life I longed for Sam’s music.
‘I…’ I began, looking out at the rolling coastline. ‘I’ve never heard you say so many words in one go.’
Sam took his eyes from the road to flash me a mock-evil stare, a hint of his playful grin dissolving the tension between us.
‘Okay, I’m sorry too. I overreacted. It’s just you – here now, on the other side of the world, with me again – and Jamie – she just caught me off guard.’
‘Yeah me too,’ Sam agreed, his grin unfolding like the cat who got the cream. ‘This whole thing, you being here…’ He shook his head at the road, the sentence dissolving. ‘I’m so sorry, Jess. Honestly.’ His sincerity softened my hurt. I hadn’t been perfect either and neither one of us had seen this, any of this, coming. He sighed again, genuinely gutted at the mess he’d got us into. ‘Do you think we can start over? You know, as friends?’
I sighed too. We had never been just friends. From the first night of Freshers’ Week to a whole year after graduation, we’d become best friends, sure, but we’d never been just friends. And here I was lapping up every kind scrap about our relationship Sam cast my way. I didn’t want to be just friends. But he was happy now. And I wanted him to be happy – kind of. And then there was the small detail that his offer of free accommodation and this temporary job was the quickest way I could think of to get a deposit for my own place without telling anyone back home what a royal screw-up I’d made of this whole new start. Without telling Sam that all my moves and lies had always led back to him. Just a few days, a week, tops – of long shifts, of cash in hand – just to keep me going until the summer set in.
The Spare Bedroom: A totally heartwarming, funny and feel good romantic comedy Page 9