Love You Better

by Martin, Natalie K

  He sounded like her dad. Or how she imagined her dad might sound anyway. She looked from Doug to Smith, both mirroring the same concerned but firm expressions. Clearly, they weren’t going to take no for an answer, despite knowing how stubborn she could be. She sighed and nodded.

  ‘But what about—’

  ‘Nikki can cover you, and we’ll pull together. It’s what we do.’ Doug looked at Smith. ‘Take care of her until she’s ready to go.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will,’ Smith replied with a nod as Doug patted her on the shoulder. They both watched him go back inside.

  ‘Talk about embarrassing,’ Effie said and took another sip of water.

  Smith shrugged. ‘You’re sick. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. How are you feeling now?’

  Her insides were still trembling, but the disjointed light-headedness was all but gone. ‘Better. I just need to sleep.’

  ‘You look like shit.’ He grinned.

  ‘Thanks. You know how to kick a girl when she’s down.’

  ‘I didn’t know salmonella messed with your brain too. You know you always look gorgeous. Even with those massive bags under your eyes.’

  She laughed nervously as he brushed the delicate skin under her eyes and swatted his hand away. He’d called her gorgeous, and she drank in the backhanded compliment, even though she knew it was an outright lie. She did have massive bags under her eyes, and she knew for a fact that she looked like she’d been dragged up from the bottom of the Thames.

  ‘Come on.’ Smith stood up and held his hands out to help her up. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  ‘If you feel faint, you tell me. If you feel sick, you tell me. If you want me to slow down—’

  ‘I tell you.’ Effie nodded. ‘I’ve got it.’

  She took the helmet from him and looked at the bike, remembering the urge she’d had to kick it just before she’d argued with Smith. Was she mad? Surely it made more sense to go home in something more suitable, something with a proper seat and doors? Something like, say, a cab? But Smith had offered, and she couldn’t say no. It had been so long since she’d been on it, and she didn’t want to face a journey home with a chatty cab driver. Smith sat on the bike and put his helmet on before nodding at her to get on behind him.

  ‘Ready?’

  Effie nodded and wrapped her arms around him as he set off. With her thighs straddling his, she couldn’t ignore the real reason she’d accepted his offer of a ride home. She hadn’t been this close to him since before he’d left to go travelling. Flesh on flesh, skin on skin. As he slowly navigated the streets of London, she let herself melt into his back. The taut abs she’d seen in Ireland were right under her hands, and she splayed her hands out holding him as close to her as possible. It wasn’t just about attraction. She felt safe. Even though she was probably too fragile to be on the back of a bike and even though the last time she’d been on one had ended in disaster, she felt safe with him. He seemed to be on high alert, watching out for her as he rode along. At every red light, he put his hand on her thigh and turned his head, asking if she was alright.

  Was he like this with Claire too? How many times had Claire been in this position with her arms and legs wrapped around him just like Effie was now? Maybe she was imagining it all – Smith’s attention to her, his considered riding. He had a girlfriend, and Effie was sick. He was simply being a friend – a friend she thought she’d lost after their argument. She, meanwhile, was sleep deprived and estranged from her abusive, confusing husband. It was no wonder her heart was racing at being in such close proximity to someone who was acting like he actually cared about her.

  When they stopped outside her house, Smith killed the engine and took off his helmet. Effie climbed off the bike and looked at him with a pang of uncontrollable, irrational longing. He was made for that bike. In a plain white T-shirt and 501s, he looked just like James Dean. Only fitter.

  ‘Is Oliver home?’

  Effie looked at the helmet cradled in his arms and shook her head.

  ‘What time is he usually back? I don’t think you should be on your own.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She sighed and handed her helmet to him. ‘Actually, he moved out a couple of weeks ago.’

  A tiny frown flickered across Smith’s face, but he didn’t press for details. ‘So you’re alone?’

  Effie nodded. ‘But I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Smith said and got off the bike. ‘I don’t think so.’

  She watched him clip the helmets to the back. ‘Honestly, Smith, I’m fine. I feel much better. Thanks for the lift.’

  ‘When’s the last time you ate?’

  ‘I had dinner last night.’

  He folded his arms and leaned against his bike. ‘Something other than soup. I know you, remember? If you had it your way, you’d live on nothing but soup and crusty bread. Especially when you’re upset.’

  ‘Who said I was upset?’

  ‘Your husband’s moved out, and you’ve been off work for a week. There was no salmonella, was there?’

  Effie sighed. ‘Since when did you become Inspector Clouseau?’

  ‘I’ve got many hidden depths, Effie – what can I say?’

  ‘Fine, whatever.’ She walked towards the house, but Smith stayed where he was until she turned and looked at him. ‘Well, come on, then.’

  He unfolded his arms and followed her up the path. Maybe it wasn’t the best of ideas to invite him in, but as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She hadn’t eaten anything other than soup and bread since Oliver had left. She could do with a decent meal and company, even if that company made her frustrated and confused in equal measure. Smith closed the front door behind him, and she threw her keys into the bowl on the sideboard. He wandered up the hallway and poked his head into the living room.

  ‘Nice place.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘It’s not what I expected,’ he replied, sitting on the bottom step of the staircase and pulling the Converse from his feet.

  Effie looked down at the stripy socks on his feet. ‘Why? What did you expect?’

  ‘Something a bit more . . .’ He stood up and shrugged. ‘I dunno. Something like your old place, I guess.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ She snorted and led him through to the living room. ‘That place was a dump.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. Okay, so it was on a crappy estate, but it was a nice flat. You did it up well.’

  He moved around the living room, picking up ornaments, inspecting them and putting them back. He picked up a photo frame from the shelf above the fireplace. The picture inside was of Effie and Oliver on their honeymoon, smiling into the camera. She frowned and watched as he carefully put it back.

  ‘It was kind of bohemian,’ he continued. ‘A little hippyish. It was cute.’

  Effie screwed up her nose. ‘I think you’re confusing me with someone else. My flat definitely wasn’t hippyish.’

  He shrugged again. ‘Okay, maybe not hippyish. I dunno what you call it. Interior design isn’t really my thing.’

  It was true that when she’d been given her council flat, she’d had to take some of the things her mum had left behind, but she’d slowly replaced them with things that were more to her own taste. It had resulted in a mishmash of old and new, bohemian and modern. She’d been working her way towards refurnishing her cramped flat with nice fittings and classy, colour-coordinated ornaments. Moving in with Oliver had been the final leap to what she’d been trying to achieve. This house represented everything she’d aspired to be.

  ‘So,’ – he turned and looked at her – ‘food?’

  She nodded and they headed to the kitchen. ‘I don’t even know what I’ve got in.’

  He opened up the fridge and peered inside, apparently as comfortable as if he were in his own house. ‘Not a lot, it would seem.’

&nbs
p; ‘I need to do some shopping. I’ll just order something in.’

  Smith looked at her and opened the freezer door. ‘We can do better than that. You’re the girl who could make a three-course dinner out of the tins from the back of the cupboard.’

  She smiled and shook her head. Before Oliver, she’d had to watch what she spent. She didn’t have a choice. She was a savvy shopper, always on the lookout for supermarket deals, and takeaways were a very rare treat. These days, she loaded up her trolley without a second thought for the price.

  ‘Okay, so you’ve got prawns. We could do those.’ He slung the bag of grey prawns on the side and closed the freezer door before opening up the cupboards. ‘And risotto rice. Perfect.’

  ‘Are you going to make me sick like you did last time?’ Effie asked, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Smith grinned. ‘I’m better with prawns than I am with crab.’

  She watched as he moved around the kitchen with fluid ease, gathering up everything he needed in silence. She’d forgotten how methodical he was when he cooked. He set everything up to be ready for when he needed it – chopping an onion and some garlic ready for the frying pan, pouring out the exact amount of rice required and putting it in a bowl.

  ‘So what happened with you and Prince Charming?’ He kept his back to her as he fried the onions and garlic in butter.

  Effie looked at the floor. ‘It’s a long and very boring story.’

  ‘I doubt that. Nothing’s ever boring with you.’

  He never missed a trick. Boring was the complete opposite of her situation. ‘Thanks. I think.’

  ‘So are you, like, on a break, or are you heading for a divorce court?’

  She sighed heavily. ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.’

  ‘It was you who ended it?’ He looked at her. She nodded and he turned back to the cooker.

  ‘What?’ she asked, warily. His silence was disconcerting. Smith always had something to say.

  ‘Nothing.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s just you were so adamant about him and how perfect your life was. I’m surprised, I guess.’

  ‘Yeah, well. Nothing’s ever really perfect,’ she replied under her breath. ‘It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it? I mean, there I was, secure and married while you were single and living it up, and now I’m separated and you’re all loved up.’

  Smith snorted. ‘Me, loved up? I don’t think so.’

  Effie raised an eyebrow and stared at his back. Now this was interesting. ‘How is Claire?’

  ‘Fine. We haven’t really spoken for a while.’

  Effie held her breath and waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned and looked at her with his annoying know-it-all grin.

  ‘It isn’t like you to not ask for all the ins and outs. Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?’

  ‘It’s not really my business.’

  Oh, but it is.

  ‘Well, that’s new.’ He turned back to the cooker, and Effie rolled her eyes. Clearly he was going to make her ask.

  ‘Okay, what happened? I thought you were love’s young dream.’

  ‘Nothing happened. It just ran its course.’

  ‘She dumped you?’ She smirked at the thought.

  ‘As if.’ He laughed. ‘Really, it was nothing major.’

  ‘That’s a shame. She seemed nice.’

  ‘Pull the other one. You couldn’t stand her.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  It was harsh to say that Effie couldn’t stand her. She’d been jealous, and Claire had known far too much about Effie’s feelings for Smith – that was all.

  ‘It was fun while it lasted, but it was never a serious thing anyway, you know?’

  Effie nodded, but the truth was, she didn’t know. She’d never had flings before, only boyfriends. And now a husband, albeit one she was separated from. She’d always been sure of what she was doing when it came to love. Her relationship with Smith might have been heady, intense and rocky, but she’d known how she felt about him. And she knew how she felt about Oliver, or at least she’d thought she did. Since they’d separated, she wasn’t sure about anything anymore. All she did know was that she didn’t want to be like her mum, happy to go with whatever came along on a whim. She wanted the real deal, and she’d thought she’d got it. Now look at her.

  ‘Earth to Effie? Are you okay? Are you feeling faint again?’

  She looked up at him, standing by her cooker with a spoon in his hand, and shook her head. ‘Sorry, I was miles away. I’m fine.’

  ‘I was asking if al dente is okay?’

  Effie nodded. ‘Yeah. Al dente is perfect.’

  ‘Where do you usually eat? Here?’ He looked at the kitchen table, and she nodded.

  Smith dished up the risotto and handed her a plate. ‘So let’s mix it up.’

  She followed him through to the living room, where they sat on the floor, eating with their legs stretched out wide and Jeff Buckley playing softly in the background.

  ‘Where did you learn to cook without poisoning people? This is lovely,’ Effie said with a full mouth.

  Smith shook his head with mock disgust. ‘Did nobody ever tell you it’s rude to talk with your mouth full? And as for it not being poisonous, you might want to wait a couple of hours before being sure about that.’

  Effie laughed and softly kicked his foot with hers.

  ‘It’s another benefit of travelling. I took loads of cooking classes, and it saves money instead of eating out all the time.’

  ‘Sounds like you had a blast.’

  ‘Man.’ Smith sighed. ‘It was awesome. I’d do it all again tomorrow.’

  Effie’s heart stalled at the mere thought of him leaving for a second time.

  ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘What will you do now you’re single again?’

  ‘No idea.’ She grimaced. ‘I haven’t thought about myself as being single.’

  ‘Travel cures a broken heart, or so they say. It’s a distraction at the very least. You used to say you wanted to see the world.’

  ‘I used to say a lot of things.’ Effie shrugged. ‘It was easy to imagine it when I was younger and Mum would take me away all the time.’

  ‘So what changed?’

  ‘I grew up. And now . . . Well, things are different. Too much has happened to just pack up and leave.’

  ‘You’d be surprised. It’s like having amnesia once you’re gone. It’s hard to dwell on stuff when you’re experiencing so much.’

  ‘What was the best thing? Like, what was your highlight?’ Effie asked and took the last mouthful of risotto. It really was just what she needed, and she felt a million times better than she had that morning.

  ‘Angkor Wat in Cambodia. It’s probably the most awe-inspiring thing I’ve ever seen in my life. As clichéd as it sounds, being in a place like that made me realise just how small I was in the grand scheme of things. I’m sure you saw the photos I put on Facebook anyway.’

  Effie shook her head as a blush erupted on her face. ‘We’re not Facebook friends anymore, remember?’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Smith laughed. ‘That’s a pretty dumb state of affairs.’

  He took out his phone and whizzed his fingers over the screen. Seconds later, her phone buzzed, and she looked at the notification.

  James: Smith sent you a friend request.

  She grinned and accepted it before putting her plate to one side. It was churlish to have un-friended him in the first place, pathetic even.

  ‘And what was the worst thing?’

  He put his plate on top of hers and crossed his legs. ‘Saying goodbye to people all the time. You meet so many cool people, bond with them super quick and then before you know it, they’re moving on to the next place. It’s inhere
ntly transient.’

  Bond with them? Images of him bonding filled her head. It was one of the reasons she’d un-friended him on Facebook. She hadn’t wanted to end up stalking his every move out of jealousy.

  He bumped his shoulder against hers. ‘Not that kind of bonding.’

  Effie shook her head. ‘Why do you always presume to know what I’m thinking?’

  ‘Because I do. It was written all over your face.’

  ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. What’s written on my face is tiredness.’ Right on cue, she stifled a yawn. ‘I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in ages.’

  Smith brought his legs up and rested his arms on his knees as he picked at his nails. ‘Missing Oliver?’

  ‘It’s mostly just trying to adjust to being alone, you know?’ She looked at him and then looked around the room. ‘This house makes some weird noises at night. It makes me paranoid.’

  ‘You’re worried there’s a bogeyman hiding under your bed?’

  Effie laughed and thought back to the night she’d convinced herself she was getting burgled. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘You must be exhausted. On top of not eating properly, it’s no wonder you fainted.’

  ‘I know. Thanks for dinner. I really needed it.’

  ‘Anytime.’ Smith grinned.

  Another yawn welled up inside her, and this time she didn’t try to hide it. In the space of a few seconds, anchors had apparently fixed themselves to her eyelids.

  ‘I should get going so you can sleep,’ Smith said and went to get up, but Effie stopped him.

  ‘Actually, could you stay? Just for a bit.’

  Whoa, where did that come from?

  ‘I might be able to get a few hours knowing someone else is in the house.’

  Her tired brain must have short-circuited. What was she doing? Asking Smith to stay was like sticking a finger into a beehive. No good could ever come from it. Except, maybe, sleep. Just a few hours and she’d feel better. They didn’t have to go upstairs. They didn’t even have to move. She was so tired she’d be happy to sleep right there on the floor.

  Smith slowly sat back down and nodded, leaning against the sofa. ‘Yeah. Sure.’