A few more moments passed. Then, slowly, he twisted his head to plant a kiss on my forehead, squeezing me a little tighter in his arms as he did. Eventually he spoke, and when he did, it was the four words of heaven that every girl wants to hear from a bloke they’ve just slept with: ‘Shall I make breakfast?’
‘Ooh, you’re a keeper!’ I joked, before realising how forward I sounded, under the circumstances. ‘That would be lovely. Mind if I take a shower?’ I said hastily, hoping to detract from my bunny-boiler statement.
‘Not at all.’ He slid from underneath my head and sat up. He kissed me again on my forehead and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. I still couldn’t tell what he was thinking, if he thought we’d just made a mistake and was just being polite about making breakfast.
When I came out of the shower I half expected to find a piece of toast and a note waiting for me on the kitchen table, but when I padded in, there he sat. The table was laid with croissants, fruit, juice and yoghurt. There was a cafetière full of fresh coffee, and milk had been decanted into a small jug I’d forgotten I owned. A pink rose lay across the empty plate where I was to sit. ‘Wow, look at this! You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.’
‘I think you’re worth it,’ he replied sheepishly, only just making eye contact with me. My heart fluttered as I sat down opposite him. His hair was all ruffled and T-shirt crumpled – my fault I mused, allowing myself a small smile. I was sure I looked no better, with wet hair, and a polka-dot dressing gown on. He drew a deep breath, and I knew it was time to address the elephant in the room. ‘Melissa, I think we need to talk.’ His tone suddenly darkened. It didn’t sound good.
‘Okay.’ My stomach clenched with worry. Perhaps he wanted to let me down with another ‘I’m not ready’ speech. I braced myself, searching for a response that wouldn’t present me as some obsessed madwoman. Because now, after what had just happened, quite frankly I was obsessed. I wanted to rip his T-shirt off and drag him straight back to bed for round two.
‘I really like you.’ He started with a softener, so I knew the follow-up would be bad news.
‘I really like you too,’ I blurted.
‘I’m glad you said that. I know we’ve not spent a great deal of time together, but the time we have spent together has been great. I thought friendship was enough for me, especially because of the divorce and everything, but when I saw you with that Joseph guy in Scotland, I realised that whilst I’d been sitting there licking my wounds, you had met someone. I had no idea if it was serious, but the possibility that it was – and that I’d missed my chance – was unbearable. If I have a chance, I mean.’ He paused, seemingly stuck for words, so I decided to help him out.
‘Scott, I feel the same. And as for Joseph, that was a non-starter. You should have just asked about him. I really like you too, but are you sure you feel ready to even have this conversation? I don’t want you to feel under any pressure.’
‘I’m sure. What would I be waiting for? Certainly not for Emma to come home, that’s for sure.’ The name ‘Emma’ pierced my chest like a bullet, but the feeling wasn’t one of jealousy. It was guilt.
‘Scott, there is actually something I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s about Emma.’
‘Oh?’ A look of worry spread across his face.
‘It’s nothing bad, don’t worry. I just think I can fill in a few blanks for you. You know how she left you for someone else?’
‘Yes, but I told you, she already offered to explain it all, and I’m not really interested. I’m more interested in how you even know anything about it, or about her.’
‘I’ll get to that, but I want to tell you that I know who it is, the person she left you for.’
‘Mel, I’m not sure if I want to know. I’m just starting to feel like me again.’ He sighed and regarded me with heavy eyes.
‘Well, I think you’ll feel better if I tell you,’ I persisted.
‘I don’t see how, but okay then, go on,’ he replied uncertainly.
‘I only found this out a few days ago, so don’t think I’ve kept it from you. I planned on telling you last night but, well, you stood me up.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Emma is dating my friend Gemma.’
‘What?’ he gasped. Confusion and shock spread across his face like chicken pox in primary school.
‘Emma left you for a woman.’ I waited for the news to sink in. Waited for the relief to wash over him at the reassurance that none of it was his fault. ‘I don’t know why she didn’t just tell you, rather than keep you in the dark torturing yourself, wondering what you did wrong. She must have had her reasons – perhaps she was confused. Maybe in time you can talk to her about it, but for now, please know that you couldn’t have done anything differently to make your marriage work.’
He didn’t reply. He just looked at me, took a deep breath and returned to his coffee.
I ate my breakfast whilst he digested my revelation in a stunned silence. I could empathise with him; you think you know someone close to you so well and then something like this shatters your trust. I was partly thinking of Gemma, but I understood her reasons for keeping me in the dark.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked gently after an appropriate amount of time had passed.
He drew a deep breath. ‘I guess so. It doesn’t really change anything though. She betrayed me. In some ways it’s worse than if she had run off with a man – someone richer, more muscular or something I could understand. Pretending to be straight when you’re a lesbian is one hell of a lie. She must have kept it from me for ages.’ I’d not even considered how betrayed he’d feel when he found out. I felt so stupid. ‘Your friend Gemma, do you see much of her?’ he queried, and I knew why.
‘Apart from the last few weeks, yes, usually I do. I actually went out with her last night. I met Emma.’ I paused, awaiting his reaction.
‘Oh. This is getting a bit weird,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘It’s all right, Scott. It’s just going to take some time. Last night, when I met her, there was no “us”. I still don’t know what “us” means anyway. I didn’t even tell her I knew you, so she knows nothing, and it’s not weird for me, not really. You should perhaps take some time to think,’ I suggested. I’ been so keen to let Scott know his divorce wasn’t his fault, I hadn’t thought about how close we as a couple would potentially be to Gemma and Emma, and the awkwardness that would go with it.
‘You’re right. I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch.’ With that, he stood up, putting down his half-full cup of coffee. ‘Goodbye, Mel.’ He kissed my forehead before leaving me with a breakfast spread I no longer had any appetite for.
I’ll be in touch. That’s what you told a window salesman when you wanted him to leave. My stomach turned queasy. It’s one thing to not get the guy, but to not get him just an hour after you’d presented him with your naked body was something else, and quite frankly, it made a girl self-conscious.
I threw my head into my hands. What had I been thinking? Why did I think Emma being a lesbian would be more palatable news? The whole thing had actually been none of my business. It was terrible judgement, thinking I could make him feel better by butting into his private life to tell him something he already had declined to listen to. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for a relationship after all.
A feeling much worse than sickness descended upon me, the horror and realisation of what I’d become – meddling, interfering, all-knowing . . . my mother. I was my mother. I slumped onto the sofa. I deserved to grow into an old spinster. Just then, there was a knock at the door. A cocktail of nerves and hope filled my veins as I leapt up and skipped over to the door, swinging it open with a smile. ‘Sco—’
It wasn’t Scott. It was Joseph.
‘Melissa, can I come in?’
A million thoughts filled my head; letting him in wasn’t one of them. I stared blankly at him. Joseph regarded me. His face barely flinched, but something about the flicker in his eyes su
ggested disgust – at my dressing gown, perhaps? Or the fact I was in my PJs at noon? As I was about to answer, Stoner Dan walked past towards his door and gave me a knowing wink. I’d no idea what that meant, but I ignored him. I had to deal with Joseph.
‘Okay, come in.’ I shuffled to the side to allow him past before any of my other neighbours saw me. I closed the door behind us. ‘I didn’t hear the intercom. Did someone let you in?’
‘Yes, it was that scruffy bloke who just walked past. Anyway, we’ve not talked since Scotland, and I was thinking we should try and pick things up again. I got the impression you were a bit annoyed about my little spat with that outspoken bloke, what’s his name again, Steve?’ His ignorance cut me.
‘Scott.’
‘Well, Scott then. Anyway, I wanted to make up for everything: the first date, the rubbish second date and losing my cool at the ferry stop. So, I’ve booked us tickets to Paris, my treat.’ His eyes sparkled with excitement and he continued, not pausing for me to speak. ‘I’ve booked a hotel with views out over the Seine. You can see the Eiffel Tower from the suite – it looks really quite breathtaking. I thought we could have dinner in the tower, and . . .’
All I could do was stare at him. Everything was so misplaced. My pyjamas versus his smart outfit, his neat, polished hair in the chaos of my apartment, the fact I’d just slept with a different man and now had another one stood before me – it was too much. This jigsaw piece didn’t fit.
‘Look, Joseph, I’m sorry, but no.’ I shook my head.
‘No?’ He looked genuinely shocked, like he seriously expected me to be swept off my feet.
‘Joseph, I did mean to get in touch with you. I wanted to talk about how you reacted at the ferry port—’
‘Like an idiot, I know.’
‘Yes. I was a bit taken aback, you know. I thought you of all people would be able to handle a bit of confrontation, but I didn’t expect aggression.’
‘That man accosted me! Who is he anyway?’ His cheeks flushed with indignation.
Good question. ‘He’s a . . . er, he’s my . . . He’s a friend.’
‘A friend who should mind his own business, I believe.’
‘Despite that, Joseph, I did have something else to ask. Did Dee send you up to Scotland?’ His face paled, and I noticed him gulp, but he managed to maintain eye contact.
‘Why would you ask?’ There was a defensiveness about his tone.
‘It’s just that I happened to see a text from her at the cottage, when you went to put your shoes on.’ I almost continued with an apology for looking at his phone, but I bravely bit my tongue instead. I wasn’t in the wrong, and I’d done enough Mel-bashing for one day.
‘Oh, that . . .’ He let out a nervous laugh, but no words followed. I was about to press him for an answer when I realised it didn’t matter. I didn’t need an answer, because either she’d set me up again, or she was a meddling bitch who he was still happy to let be a part of our business, despite what she’d already done. He was either a liar or pathetic, and neither option appealed to me. I’d rather die alone with dignity.
‘It’s time you left.’
‘Okay.’ He drew the word out. ‘So you’re saying no to Paris?’
‘I’m saying no to Paris, and to you. I don’t want to see you again.’ His mouth set in a hard line, and he thrust his hands into his pockets, but still he didn’t move. ‘Joseph, I mean it. I’d like you to leave.’ All his charm had dissolved, leaving behind an arrogant, self-obsessed, materialistic vessel.
Doris had only scratched the surface with her conclusions about men like him. He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then closed it again, turned on his heel and left. I let out a huge sigh of relief. Joseph, not a man accustomed to being told no. I just had one more man to deal with today. I was on a roll.
I walked next door and hammered on the door as loudly as I could. ‘Answer the door!’ I yelled. After what seemed like a few minutes, a sluggish Dan appeared. ‘Why the hell did you let that man in?’
‘Oh hey, Mel.’ He smiled, apparently oblivious to my rage. ‘Oh yeah, that dude said he was here to see you, so I let him in on my way back from getting Rizlas.’ He slumped against the door; obviously the Rizlas had been put to use.
‘Well thanks a bunch. Had it not occurred to you that I might not have wanted to see that guy, and if he thought I did want to see him he would have just buzzed?’ I was still ranting.
‘Whoa, Mel, I didn’t catch a word of that. But if you want to come in and chill for a bit that’s cool. You seem stressed out.’ Stressed out wasn’t the word. ‘And anyway, I’d just seen that other bloke go, and then this one turned up . . . I thought it might’ve been business, y’know.’ He looked me up and down and winked.
Shit, I’d forgotten I was still in my dressing gown. I pulled the belt a little tighter around my waist. The cheeky sod was actually suggesting I was a prostitute. I would have punched him if I thought he’d have felt it.
‘Just don’t let random men in for me again,’ I huffed and stormed off back to my apartment.
***
It had felt good to put Joseph in his place, but that mild satisfaction was still tainted by Scott’s departure. I felt so helpless about it. There was nothing I could do. If the situation was too weird for him or too close for comfort, it had to be his choice. All I could do was sit and hope. Or mope, which was how the rest of the day panned out. I waited in; it was all I could do. If he cooled off or changed his mind, I had to be there. If I missed him, who knew what could happen – it wasn’t like he could ring me.
When dusk descended and he still hadn’t returned, I let in the thoughts I’d spent the whole day ignoring. He doesn’t want to give ‘us’ a try. He would be back by now if he did. Once the thoughts had burst through the riot gates, there was no holding back. I sobbed. I cried because I’d wasted my twenties, ignoring advances from men who were probably okay. I cried because nobody noticed me any more when I was sitting alone in a bar. I cried because of Scott. I cried because nobody, in the five years I’d been actively trying to find The One, came remotely close to Scott.
I stomped into the bathroom and grabbed a loo roll to blow my nose and wipe my eyes. When the tears stopped, I sat on the sofa and felt the void in my stomach, in my chest. So this is what it’s like to love.
I couldn’t face going out – I still wasn’t dressed – so I raided my Christmas bags once more for the bottle of Baileys I knew was there somewhere and poured myself a glass. I had no ice, but a warm Baileys was better than no Baileys. I tried everything imaginable to fill the metaphorical hole in my heart – chocolate, booze and a Sandra Bullock film – but nothing filled the void or cleared my mind.
***
The buzzer rang. It was eight-fifteen on a Sunday morning, which ruled Amanda and Gemma out. Joseph wouldn’t dare come back, would he? My spirits lifted; there was only one person I could think of who would be here at this time, unannounced, on a Sunday . . . Scott. I quickly jumped up and danced over to the intercom. ‘Hello,’ I answered excitedly, checking my reflection in the hall mirror as I did. It wasn’t dreadful, and he’d seen me in a much worse state yesterday.
‘Melissa, let me in! I have a surprise!’ a very giddy-sounding Lizzie replied. My body slumped against the wall as I pressed the door release. Moments later, Lizzie came bounding in.
‘I took your advice. I’ve taken a day off from the kids, and I’m coming with you on your spa day.’ She clapped her hands, jumping up and down on the spot like a child on Christmas day. I stared blankly.
‘Spa day?’
‘Yes, you know, the one Mum and Dad bought you for your birthday? It is today, isn’t it?’ Her voice wavered. I glanced over at the calendar hanging next to the door, and, sure enough, it said: ‘spa day, 09:30’. I’d even drawn childish love hearts around it to make sure it stood out. Of course, that was before I knew what real love was. There was a reminder set in my phone, as I recalled.
‘Oh, yes. Of course. I’d just slept in and forgotten all about it for a moment,’ I lied. ‘I’ll just grab my things.’
I went into my room, closing the door behind me, and flung myself on the bed. On any other day, going to a spa with Lizzie would have been amazing, but today was the worst possible day. I’d planned to stay in again in case Scott came round. I couldn’t contact him, and if I missed him once, he might never come back.
What could I tell Lizzie? I contemplated several excuses, from sickness to the spa cancelling our appointment. But I couldn’t do it to her. She was so excited. She hadn’t had a day off from the kids ever, as far as I knew, plus it had been my idea. ‘Argh,’ I screamed quietly into my pillow, letting go of some of my frustrations, and then pulled myself up. Dutifully, I packed my swimming costume and clothes and got myself dressed.
‘All ready.’ I plastered on one of my special-occasion grins.
‘Are you okay, Mel?’ Clearly the grin was too much for my well-trained, eagle-eyed sister. Maybe a spa day and a heart-to-heart with Lizzie wouldn’t be so bad after all.
‘Come on, or we’ll be late. I can fill you in when we get there.’
***
‘Ahhhhh,’ Lizzie groaned as she walked out of the treatment room. ‘That Swedish massage was seriously amazing. When I win the lottery I’m buying myself a masseuse.’ I smiled; it was great to see her happy and relaxed for once, a far cry from the bedraggled figure I’d seen a few weeks ago.
‘It felt good to do a Pilates class again. I’ve not been for weeks. At least now I get to feel an inch taller for the rest of the day.’ I stretched out in the Jacuzzi, letting my legs float. ‘Hey, you got your roots done too.’ I’d noticed earlier, but I’d been so consumed in my own problems I couldn’t bring myself to even comment.
‘I did. I’m like a new woman!’ She spun around, giggling. I couldn’t help but spot the irony of how she was so happy, having a day away from everything I dreamed of – the husband, the kids. She was having a day in my life. I could go to the spa whenever I wanted. The grass is always greener. I felt a flash of guilt. I knew I didn’t have a bad life, not really.
The Secret to Falling in Love Page 21