by Paige Toon
‘Sounds complicated.’
‘It is a bit.’
‘What are the rest of them like?’ he asks.
‘They’re . . . Well, Jorge is really nice. And I like Javier, even though he doesn’t say much to me. Carmen’s a bit of a cow, and Eric, well, it’s hard to have an opinion about Eric because he’s just sort of . . . there.’
‘And Leo?’
‘What about him?’
‘What’s he like?’
I sigh. ‘I don’t really want to talk about him.’
The look of anguish on his face nearly makes me break.
‘I think I’d better go,’ I say apprehensively, standing up.
He shakes his head quickly as though to rid himself of his thoughts and gets to his feet. ‘No, don’t. Please come for a swim. I’ve flown all this way to see you . . . Please,’ he says again. ‘I don’t think I’ll be long out of the sack.’
I hesitate a moment, before conceding. ‘Okay. I’ll see you by the pool in a bit.’
‘Cool.’ He grins back at me and for a moment I see the Matthew I used to know, the easy, charming, sweet Matthew.
I head back to the house feeling distinctly unnerved.
Later that afternoon, I say goodbye to Matthew and go home. He knows I don’t want him to come to the house tonight, and I think he will respect that. I can tell he’s absolutely knackered, anyway, so I’m sure he’ll crash out. I hope he doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night and spy on us from the sundeck, like I did that time, the freak that I am.
I have a shower and wash my hair, then I take a book upstairs to wait for Leo in his room. I hear him come home. He jogs up the stairs and enters his room, looking surprised yet pleased to see me waiting there.
‘Hi!’ he exclaims, as I sit up. He bends down and pecks me on my lips and I briefly close my eyes, wondering when he’ll do that again and wanting it to be sooner rather than later, but fearing the latter.
‘How was your day?’ I ask, chickening out of the big revelation as he straightens back up.
‘Good.’ He pulls his T-shirt over his head. ‘I went on a dive. Saw a leatherback turtle.’
‘Cool!’ I enthuse. ‘Was it big?’
‘About three feet. It was pretty amazing. First time I’ve seen one.’ I watch as he pulls on a fresh white shirt. He must’ve showered at the dive centre, because his hair isn’t as wavy as it sometimes gets after a dive.
‘You got started on the painting,’ he says, dropping to his knees and facing me. He looks so fresh and carefree. Happy.
‘Yeah.’ I smile shyly at him, pleased that he’s pleased.
‘It looks good.’
‘Thanks. I’ll do some more tomorrow.’
‘I can help you at the weekend. Don’t wear yourself out.’
‘I won’t.’
I take a deep breath.
He cocks his head to one side, sensing that something is wrong. ‘What is it?’
I take another deep breath and his face falls.
‘What?’ he asks again.
‘Matthew is here.’
Now anything pleasant about his expression is gone. One after the other his expression becomes shocked, horrified, angry, even disgusted.
‘He’s staying in the hotel.’ I feel unsettled. ‘He wants me to go home with him.’ Leo gets up and starts pacing the room. ‘I’m not going, though,’ I tell him quickly and he shoots me a dark look.
‘How long is he staying?’ he asks.
‘Five days.’
He shakes his head and stares at the wall.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘I’m still sorry.’ My nose begins to prickle.
‘Come here,’ he says gruffly and I stand up and hurl myself into his arms. He holds me tightly, pressing his lips to the top of my head.
That’s the last time he touches me.
He barely speaks to me throughout dinner, and afterwards I go straight to bed. It’s clear to both of us that we need to keep our distance for the foreseeable future. The next morning I get up early so I can speak to him before he goes to work. My stomach cartwheels when he comes downstairs, and it hurts not to be able to hold him, but I know he doesn’t want me to. I see with alarm that he has a bag packed.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask fearfully.
‘Miami,’ he replies.
‘For how long?’ My voice rises and his expression softens.
‘Just for a few days.’
I nod quickly, trying to keep my tears at bay.
‘I’ll see you,’ he says, and walks out of the door.
When Leo leaves, I want nothing more than to go up to my bedroom and cry my heart out. But I pull myself together and put on a brave face, then I head out to see Matthew. We go for a wander around Key West.
‘What did . . . Leo say when you told him I was here?’ he asks me, trying to keep his voice sounding even. I’ve got to give it to him; he’s not freaking out like I know I certainly would. Then again, I don’t suppose he’s given himself much choice, considering.
‘Not a lot. He’s gone to Miami for a few days,’ I tell him.
He gives me a sharp look. ‘Has he?’
‘Yep.’ I avert my gaze, but I’m sure he can see how unhappy I am.
‘Well, that’s good. Gives us some space.’
Don’t I know it? Leo is right, of course. He’s right to leave. He’s giving us all some space. He must need it, too, and Matthew and I sure as hell do. Matthew has, after all, come all this way. I owe it to him, to the vows that we made to each other, to try to sort this out. Even if I don’t want to. Whatever happens, whichever way this goes, a resolution is necessary. But how I hate to think of Leo in Miami without me. With Ashlee. What if he goes back to her? What if he tries to dull his pain by finding solace in someone else, anyone else? The thought makes me want to tear my hair out.
‘When you told me about him . . .’ Matthew starts, his voice turning harder. ‘I thought that was it, that it was definitely over between us . . .’ I hold my breath. ‘But then I thought, if I can forgive you, then maybe you can forgive me.’
He glances at me, but I’m still steadily averting my gaze.
A rooster hops out onto the pavement and Matthew jolts away. ‘What the . . .?’
‘They’re free-range around here.’ I laugh at his horrified expression. He laughs, too, and for a moment I forget where we are, and we’re just two friends, laughing at each other.
Friends . . . My throat closes up. He was my friend. My best friend. What is he now? Friends make mistakes. Marty and I have fallen out before, when she decided she preferred Lucy New to me in Year Three, but I forgave her. Isn’t that what friends do? Forgive and move on? Will I ever be able to forgive Matthew? Maybe. But I’m not sure I could ever move on. Not with him, surely. It’s too big, what he’s done. Isn’t it?
Matthew wants to go to Ernest Hemingway’s house, and as I didn’t make it there with Bridget and Marty, I’m happy to join him. Matthew has always wanted to write a book. He’s a fantastic writer of features, and I love reading his work for the newspaper – I feel so proud of him. I know that one day he’ll achieve his dream of becoming an author. No wonder he wants to wander around Hemingway’s house and soak up the inspiration.
Hemingway had a lot of cats, and since he moved away they’ve sort of taken over the place. Many of them have six toes on each paw. Freaky. But it’s a fun day, and it’s oddly nice being in Matthew’s company again. We head back to his hotel for a swim later in the afternoon, and to anyone else we must appear to be any other couple on holiday. We could be on our honeymoon.
Mike, the guy from reception, walks past at one point and does a double take.
‘Hi!’ I say shyly.
‘Back again?’ he asks.
‘Sorry, my . . .’ And then I don’t know what to say. My husband? No. ‘Matthew,’ I point to him, ‘is staying with you. Is it okay if I drop by occasionally?’
&nbs
p; ‘Of course!’ he exclaims. ‘Knock yourself out.’
‘I’m happy to pay extra for my room,’ Matthew chips in.
‘Don’t be silly.’ He brushes us off. ‘Just enjoy. See you back here for happy hour!’
‘Thanks.’ I smile at him and he wanders off. ‘They’re lovely here,’ I say to Matthew.
‘Yeah. I can see why you wanted to stay.’
‘Mmm.’
We both fall silent, both of us realising the idiocy of this sentence. The hotel had nothing to do with why I stayed in Key West.
We go out for dinner and it’s . . . well, nice. We talk about his work and family – his two brothers, one sister and parents – and generally what he’s been up to. We don’t talk about anything difficult.
He doesn’t ask me about Leo, about any of the details, and I’m grateful. Matthew has never been a particularly jealous person. The way he coped with my heartache on the anniversary of Will’s death . . .
After that first charity ball I went home and fell into a heap, I was so emotionally drained after putting on a brave face all evening, and in all the weeks leading up to the event. But it was hard having that relentless reminder that someone with such a bright future had been ripped so cruelly from this earth. I know Will and I would have gone our separate ways if he’d lived, but we would have stayed in touch, I’m certain of that. He was the one-time love of my life, and we had known each other since we were children, literally romping around in the haystacks as teenagers on my parents’ farm. I would always love him. How it pained me to be at that ball, with people constantly coming up to me and telling me how sorry they were for my loss. I felt like he’d died only yesterday. I longed for Matthew to be there, by my side, and I felt so lost without him. He turned up at my flat later, and I loathed myself for being so snivelly-nosed and red-eyed when I opened the door to him. A lesser man would have run a mile, but Matthew didn’t. He took me in his arms while I sobbed – over another man! And he didn’t run away. He made me sweet tea and put on Michael McIntyre’s Comedy Roadshow to cheer me up. Then he took me to bed, but didn’t make love to me that night, and I loved him more then than I ever had. He was a good man. He is a good man.
He walks me back to the house. He knows well enough when to call things a night. It’s been a pleasant day; we’ve effectively called a truce, and it’s a relief. But there’s no need to push it. So we say goodnight outside the gate. I know he wants to kiss me – not passionately, just a peck on my cheek – but he hesitates, not sure how I’ll react. I lean up and kiss him on his cheek instead, and then I say goodnight and go through the gate.
I feel nervous as I approach the kitchen. There’s someone inside. Urgh, it’s Carmen.
‘Hi,’ I say as I enter. I can hear knives and forks clattering in the dining room. They’re having a late dinner.
‘Hello,’ she says without smiling as she grabs a few beers from the fridge. ‘We weren’t sure if you were going to be back in time.’
‘I’ve eaten,’ I tell her.
She nods.
‘Do you want a hand with those?’
‘No, it’s okay. I’ve got them.’ She makes to leave.
‘Have you heard from Leo?’ I blurt out.
She turns around and stares at me, coldly. ‘No.’
I shrink further into myself.
She sighs. ‘He’ll be back. Don’t worry about him.’
‘I do worry about him,’ I find myself confessing.
‘Yeah, well, he’ll be worried about you, too.’
It’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me. I don’t think she meant to say it.
She frowns and stalks out.
I feel rude about going up to bed so I pop my head around the dining-room door and say a quick hi and goodnight. The room falls into uncomfortable silence when I appear, and it makes me feel like shit. Jorge gives me a falsely bright smile.
‘How’s it all going?’ he asks.
‘Fine. It’s okay, you know . . .’ My voice trails off. ‘I’m tired so I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Okay. Goodnight.’
I don’t hear them resume their conversation until I’m halfway up the stairs.
I’m the first one up and out of the house the next morning. It’s Saturday, so no one is at work. I’ll be quite happy to avoid being there today – it’s just too awkward. Matthew rented a car at the airport so we conserve our energy and drive to Blue Heaven for brunch.
‘This place is wicked,’ he says, looking around.
It’s a sunny morning so we sit outside at a stone table underneath a green umbrella. The sunlight is filtering through the canopy of leaves dotted with pink flowers, and there are a couple of chickens pecking about.
‘It’s eclectic,’ I say with a shrug.
Leo was at that table just over there, on the morning he took me on a mini tour around Key West. I keep looking at the chair he sat in, remembering him lazing there, reading his newspaper and drinking his steaming coffee. A thrill goes through me as I recall how much I wanted him then, how much I still want him. I picture us in bed together and my face starts to burn. What the hell am I doing, thinking these things in Matthew’s company? I’m a terrible, terrible person.
I go for the pancakes today, while Matthew chooses bacon and eggs. He eats better than he did that first day I saw him, but he still seems to have lost his appetite for good food.
‘I wish you’d eat properly,’ I lament, watching him put his knife and fork together on his plate.
‘This is the best I’ve eaten in weeks,’ he tells me with a small smile. ‘You look better,’ he comments sadly.
‘I feel better,’ I admit.
He nods and looks down. We don’t want to dwell on why I’m feeling better, or eating better, but I have put on a little weight since I’ve been with Leo, and I know I look vastly improved for it.
Matthew is staring at the table. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘What?’ An uneasy feeling settles over me.
He looks awkward. ‘I knew Tessa’s sister when I was at university.’
‘What do you mean? You’ve been with her, too?’
‘No!’ He looks aghast. ‘No, I just met her once!’
‘How?’ I ask edgily.
‘You remember Lukas?’
‘Well, I never did meet him, but I remember you telling me about him. He was a college friend, right?’
‘Right. Well, he was going out with Alice, and Tessa’s older sister, Lizzy, was Alice’s best friend. She came to visit once.’
‘That’s weird,’ I say.
‘I know. It freaked me out when Tessa introduced us.’
I feel instantly queasy. ‘When she introduced you?’
‘Yeah.’ He shifts uncomfortably.
‘That sounds very cosy. A proper family affair,’ I say, and he sinks into his seat at the sarcasm in my voice.
‘It’s not like that,’ he says helplessly. ‘She was all set to treat me like the proper bastard that I am, so she was shocked to see it was me.’
Something about his tone makes me soften. ‘You’re not a bastard.’ His eyes light up. ‘I know you didn’t mean to do this.’
‘I didn’t,’ he interjects quickly.
‘But you did it,’ I say with a small shrug.
I put my own knife and fork down. He stares at my half-full plate with dismay.
‘I wish I could make you feel better,’ he whispers.
‘Let’s get the bill,’ I say.
I’m avoiding the house and everyone in it today, so I’ve packed my swimming costume in my bag. We go back to the hotel to chill out for a bit. Matthew shows me his room. It’s nice, a lot smaller than ours was, but it has room for a small fridge and a coffee machine. He makes me a coffee and I slump down onto his nice double bed and close my eyes.
‘Here you go,’ he says after a minute, perching on the bed next to me.
‘Thanks.’ I sit up. ‘I’m so tired.’
�
�Didn’t you sleep well?’
‘No.’ I shake my head and blow on the coffee, my eyes stinging.
‘You could have a kip here?’ he suggests. ‘I’ll go and read my book on a hammock,’ he says swiftly.
‘Really?’
‘Of course.’ He puts his hand on my shoulder and rubs it tenderly, before quickly letting me go.
He didn’t need to. It was a nice gesture.
I suddenly feel sad. I put my coffee on the side table and fall back onto his pillows, watching as he gathers his things together. He’s wearing navy-blue shorts and a pale patterned shirt today. I wonder what Tessa thinks when she sees him. I bet she still fancies the pants off him – how could she not? Jealousy surges through my veins and I eye him with irritation as he walks out of the room.
I sigh and close my eyes. This is so confusing.
I turn on my side and allow my thoughts to lead me back to Leo. He’s holding me in his arms as I drift off to sleep.
‘How’s it all going?’ Marty sounds on edge.
‘It’s okay,’ I say hesitantly into the phone.
‘Has he convinced you to come home with him?’ she asks.
‘He’s not going to do that.’
She sighs loudly and I run my fingers through my hair, trying to detangle it. I didn’t brush it last night. I ended up staying late at Matthew’s, watching old movies together on the television in his room. The others were in the garden by the time I returned. It was awkward, and I went straight upstairs. I bet they feel like they have a stranger living with them at the moment. A stranger who has pushed their beloved Leonardo out.
Oh, Leo . . . I wonder what you’re doing in Miami.
I fill Marty in on the events of the last couple of days.
‘Hmm,’ she says. ‘Maybe he’s letting you go, putting you out of his mind.’
‘Marty!’ I exclaim, because that’s the last thing I want to hear, and she should know that.
‘Come on, Laura, where is all this going to lead? You have to stop it now before it goes too far, before Matthew doesn’t forgive you.’
For a moment I feel utterly helpless. I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. ‘I . . . I can’t give him up,’ I tell her.
‘Can’t or won’t?’