Leo wasn’t going to put up with this anymore. For a month now he’d lived with it but he could feel his limits being tested to breaking point. Not only had Veronica moved in all her things and taken over the entire wardrobe, including his half, and all the space in the bathroom cabinets, but she’d even taken over the spare room with all her extra stuff. Then last night, when she’d come in at God knows what time after another Saturday night out with her friends and fallen into bed, she mumbled something about him needing to change. Him? How could he be the one needing to change? He was the most sorted person he knew. According to her, he needed to be more ambitious and stop making plans for his life in five and ten years’ time and actually start achieving things now. She didn’t want him to be left behind when her career hit the next level, which apparently, was just around the corner. Then this morning when she’d woken up and gone off to the gym, she’d grabbed his last protein shake from the fridge. The fridge that contained all the food he’d bought because she was always too busy to take her turn in doing the shopping.
Lying in bed, Leo angrily wrestled with the pillows and sat up. His gut had told him it was all happening too fast. Thinking back now, he may have made the wrong decision. The months of sneaking around had culminated in a monster tantrum with Veronica demanding it was time to move in or move on. Damn it. He shouldn’t have caved. He didn’t normally. He’d never caved with Esme. He’d always felt that he’d been the one in charge of their relationship, but now he was the weaker one. And what was even worse was that, after watching Esme’s live broadcast the other night, home alone as Veronica was out, Esme seemed to be moving on. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. The broadcast hadn’t gone perfectly, but he’d seen the Esme he’d fallen in love with. The flaming red hair, the wild, carefree nature. She’d never have treated him the way Veronica did.
Today’s latest message had been downright patronising. She had texted him saying they were going to have an ‘open and honest discussion’ when she got home from the gym and her brunch with her friends. And they would brainstorm ways for him to become more successful at work, like her. Well, he didn’t need this shit. Leo knew exactly where his life was going and it dawned on him: he didn’t want Veronica in it. He wanted someone like Esme. No, not someone like Esme. He wanted Esme. Esme who listened to him and didn’t ignore him because she was too busy putting her needs above his.
A smile spread across his face as he remembered all the nights he and Esme had gone out together, enjoying London and everything it had to offer. And even better, all their nights in, when they curled up on the sofa and watched TV box sets or movies. She’d prepare popcorn herself rather than buying it at the shops, covering it in that toffee sauce she made. It was so good you never wanted to eat any other snack. But most of all he remembered her smile, her laugh and the way her glorious red curls could never be tamed. So often they would lie in bed, her head on his shoulder and he would wind them around his finger.
Leo picked up his phone to call Esme, then paused. Perhaps he should text. His thumb hovered over the keypad but he couldn’t think what to say. As Leo watched Felicity Fenchurch gaze out at him from under her long, false eyelashes, his mind cleared. He wanted Esme back. And no doubt she’d want to come back. She’d loved his flat and loved being in London. Plus she’d never get a decent job out in the sticks. By taking her back he’d be helping her career get on track again. With the prospect of his old life returning, Leo smiled. He could easily find out where she was. Carol and her friends wouldn’t tell her, but she’d clearly rented a place or Esme would have told him about that cottage before now. A quick search of the internet would sort that out.
He began to write a new text message. This time to Veronica. But he’d have to brace himself for the fallout. He wouldn’t get away with a tactical retreat to the bathroom this time.