Three days and twenty-one missed calls later, I strolled out of work to find Rowan leaning against the wall opposite my office building. There was a heavy flow of traffic between us, and I felt a stab of gratitude as car after car went by, which gave me time enough to think of a reason for not answering his calls. Because he’s behaved like an arsehole, I decided, as I finally padded from my side of the street to his. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I flashed a tight smile and gave him a shrug.
‘Player Two has entered the game,’ I said as I came to a stop opposite him.
‘Did you think I’d just stop calling in the end?’ he asked, leaving my comment unremarked on. I wondered whether the boys had told him the extent of our talk. I still didn’t know whether he was player one or two; only that he was definitely becoming a player. And I didn’t like that on him. ‘Or were you just too busy with Fred to answer my calls?’
I physically recoiled at his use of her name. A stab of guilt moved through me as I thought of Rowan worrying about me with another man – who was actually another woman. But I corrected myself. Does he look like he’s feeling guilty to you? I shook my head by way of answering my own thought, but Rowan took it to mean I was answering him. When he spoke again his tone was flat, annoyed almost.
‘Edi, you can’t ghost the person you’re engaged to.’
‘No, but I can remove myself from a situation until I’m ready to deal with it.’
He laughed. ‘You sound like Lily.’
‘Please.’ I matched his spiteful huff with one of my own. ‘Lily would have slept with Ian or, maybe even and, Monty, if she’d arrived for a date with you to find you were on a date with someone else already. You’re on shaky ground to throw accusations my way, Rowan.’ He looked genuinely taken aback and my kneejerk reaction was to fact-check what I’d said. But yes, Lily would have reacted much worse. Yes, he had behaved poorly. ‘I needed time.’
‘You could have told me that.’
‘I thought you’d infer it, on account of me ignoring you and all.’ I made to walk off. ‘It’s been a long day and I’m going home. Are you walking with me?’
He pushed himself away from the wall. ‘Sure.’ His tone was still flat and, even though it brought with it a stab of something like guilt, I thought back to Fred walking me home days before; the offer of walking her home next— ‘Can we talk, then?’ Rowan cut my thought off. ‘About what happened, I mean.’
It was easier doing this mid-walk, I decided. I didn’t have to look at his face. From experience, I knew it would break any resolve I thought I had. I pulled in a big breath. ‘Is there anything you want to say, about what happened the other night?’
‘I’m obviously sorry.’
‘But you haven’t said you’re sorry.’
‘Well, I am.’ He stopped and pulled me to face him. The shift in movement made me wince with feeling. It had always been the most hurtful thing in the world to see him hurt. And he did look hurt. But— ‘Edi, I am, I’m so, so sorry, because it shouldn’t have happened and I should have … Shouldn’t have. I don’t know. I should have been keeping better track of plans and priorities and … I just need to be better.’
I frowned. ‘Better at what?’
‘All of this.’ He gestured at nothing at all with one hand while he rubbed at the back of his neck with the other. ‘All of this juggling.’
‘Who was she?’
‘What?’
‘Who was she?’
‘The girl?’
Are you stalling? I narrowed my eyes. ‘Is it someone I know? Is that why you’re repeating everything back to me?’
‘No, babe,’ he sighed. ‘It’s not a stalling technique. I’m just surprised, confused, maybe, I don’t know why you’d need to know that.’ Maybe because you needed to know when I was the one scoring a hot date? I wanted to point out the hypocrisy of it all, but I wasn’t about to derail my own interrogation. ‘Okay. Okay sure, she’s a girl I met on Tinder. We said we’d go for a drink and we happened to be leaving work at the same time, and …’ He rubbed at his forehead and swallowed so hard that I heard a glug in his throat. ‘And I forgot that you and I had plans. I told the lads I’d be late home, that I was out for dinner, and then I went to meet the girl.’ He grabbed both of my hands in his, then, and I wanted to pull away. ‘It, she, all of this, it doesn’t mean anything, Edi. Remember? It’s just us messing around and flexing our muscles and ourselves and—’
‘How many girls have there been?’
‘Girls that I’ve dated, or like, had a date with?’
He was nervous. I recognised the sly looks to the side; the audible dry mouth; the near crack in his voice straight down the centre of his question. And I actually laughed – but only lightly. ‘No, Rowan. I think I’m asking how many girls you’ve slept with.’
‘Edi …’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think I understand.’
‘Did I stutter?’
He laughed. ‘No, I mean … Isn’t this what we agreed to? We’re meant to be out with other people, we’re allowed to be, and sleeping with other people, we even put that in the ground rules for all of this, when we first started it. Didn’t we? I mean, I didn’t … I didn’t imagine that part? So, the ghosting me thing, is that about me double-booking you, really, or is it about me sleeping with someone else? Because, babe, I don’t mean this in a shitty way, but if it’s about the second one, then I’m only doing what we said I could.’
What we said I could … I parroted his phrasing back to myself and felt my face fall into a frown. ‘So, if I’m sleeping around that’s fine, too?’
Another laugh. But when I stayed deadpan he suddenly became more serious. ‘Well, are you?’
‘Don’t answer a question with a question. You know it’s bad form.’
‘Okay, then sure.’ He threw his arms up in a defeated gesture. ‘It’s fine if you’re sleeping with other people. This is what we were missing, Edi, this freedom—’
‘The freedom to double-book a date – is that what you were missing out on, Rowan?’ He looked annoyed again. And I was annoyed that I wanted to apologise for that. Instead of apologising, I launched an even bigger question. ‘And how long will you be needing that freedom for, exactly?’ His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. You know that I know. ‘Remind me, is it three months, or is it more open-ended than that?’
I saw his head twitch and I wondered whether he was listening for the crack of ice. He must have decided to step carefully because he answered, ‘We agreed three months.’
‘And yet …’
‘Look, I don’t know what the boys told you—’
‘They told me what you’d already told them, so don’t come down on Ian and Monty like they’re the ones who are out of order here, when you’re the one telling people we’re taking not three months, in fact, but up to six!’ The weight of the reveal had nearly crushed me when the boys told me days before. But after sitting quietly with it – and ignoring Rowan’s calls long enough to help me think – I realised it was less about the change of duration and more about the not-telling-me; more about there being another lie. If anything, I was a little worried that I wasn’t worried enough at the prospect of a longer break – or maybe it was more time with Fred that I wasn’t so worried about. I shook the idea away; another fire, for later and/or with the girls.
‘Edi, I’m so—’
‘Let me guess …’ I held up a finger to stop him. ‘Sorry?’
He sighed. ‘What do you need right now, Edi? Do you need space? Do you need for us to stop doing this?’
Even though I understood what he was offering, I didn’t like his reason for offering it. It didn’t feel like he wanted for the break to be over – only for this conversation about the break to be over. The expression he wore was the same one I’d seen during Saturday food shops and trying-on sessions in New Look. He didn’t care; he’d just had enough. And somehow, in this mess of a situation, he’d been able to make it sound like he was sacrificing something for my benefit: sleeping around; using Tinder; double-booking dates. It didn’t bother me that he was doing everything we agreed to, I realised; what bothered me was how easily he’d taken to it – and worse still, how long he wanted to swim in the shallow waters of pretending to be single. And when he was planning on telling me about it!
The reasons for doubting him piled on, making it impossible to pick just one thing to be angry about. But I wasn’t an angry person – and I’d never been the angry girlfriend before. I thought back to Skye and the hurt that had spilled out from that, but had it been anger? Because it certainly didn’t feel like whatever had elbowed between us now.
‘I need some time,’ I said, looking down the road and deliberately away from him. There was a riptide of nerves and bad feeling in my belly. ‘Not six months’ time, but time.’ The girls would be proud of the dig.
‘To think about whether you want this to stop?’ he pushed.
But I did look at him, then, because part of me needed to see his reaction when I said, ‘Yes. And then to think about what I mean by “this”.’ In a snap he opened his mouth to answer, but I knew him well enough to know that nothing good would come from a kneejerk response. ‘Don’t. You asked me what I needed and I’ve told you. I can get home from here, thanks.’ I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. ‘Tell the boys I said hello.’
I turned and hurried and hoped he wouldn’t catch up with me. When I rounded the first corner onto a fresh street, I realised he wasn’t coming – and I didn’t even know how I felt about that. What I did know, though, was that this wasn’t Skye take two. I was allowed to call the girls; I was allowed to tell them everything. ‘It’s my fucking story, after all,’ I said to no one as I fumbled to free my mobile from my coat pocket. Before I’d even got the screen unlocked, though, an incoming call flashed up: Betty.
‘Bet, am I glad that you—’
‘Women, assemble,’ she interrupted me. I could hear chatter in the background. ‘Patrick and Molly have gone south, and Thursday is the new Friday anyway. You in?’
But work … was my first thought.
But a hangover is a sickness … was my second.
‘I’m in.’