“How’s Deb doing?” Seb asks.
He takes a spoonful of melted cheese, spreads it on a piece of baguette. The restaurant we’re in is dimly lit, wine bottles adorning the walls, the smells of cooking in the air.
Deb’s words from this afternoon ring in my ears. Don’t tell anyone. After Richard left, she hastily picked up the scattered papers from the study floor, desperate to wipe the room clean of what had happened.
“I can’t have people talking about me,” she said. “Not about this.”
“She’s fine,” I tell Seb.
“You guys have become close,” Seb says in between chews. “Hmm. You really should have some of this.”
He pushes the bread basket towards me and I take some cheese. It’s almost sweet, the caramelised textures playing on my palate.
Seb takes a swig of wine. “Ana’s leaving next week. She’s going back to Barcelona.”
“Like, permanently?”
He doesn’t look up. “Yeah.”
Despite myself, I smile. Ana leaving is the start of what I hope will be our own departure. If she’s going back to Barcelona, it must mean that Alma is getting better. Which means Seb and I can leave soon, too.
Seb tops up his wine, then mine. “Did you speak to your mother?”
“About?”
“About going back to the UK.”
My mind goes back to our drive up to the restaurant, how Seb had smiled as I spoke timidly about the landscape and the weather. Despite my best dress (picked by Eleanor) and fresh makeup, my confidence is low. Even now, our conversation feels superficial and forced.
This date was a bust before we even got here. And now, the look in Seb’s eyes makes me nervous.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask.
He frowns. “No. I didn’t say that.”
I shake my head. “But that’s what you meant. You’ve been so distant. And yes, I know a lot has happened, but I don’t know what else to do.”
He sighs, sits back in his chair. “All I asked was if you want to go see your family.”
“When are we going back?” I ask. “Your mum is doing much better.”
“The vineyard needs me,” he says. “I need to be here, but you obviously don’t like it here, which is why I suggested you go back for a bit.”
There’s a pang in my stomach. When did we stop being partners and start being people who did everything separately?
“I want to be here,” I say. “With you.”
Seb swirls his wine, looks down at the tablecloth. “How’s the writing going?’
The question sounds normal enough, but when he looks at me and lifts his eyebrow, I know it’s not.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” he says. “You’ve been here two months and you’ve written nothing.”
“Because I don’t feel comfortable showing you anything yet,” I blurt out.
It’s a mistake, raising my voice. Seb places a finger over his lips, shushing me. He looks around the room to see if anyone noticed my little outburst.
I take a breath. “A book takes time to write.”
“Lisa, I’m worried about you,” he whispers across the table. “You’re having a hard time.”
I want to scream, tell him it’s his fault I’m like this. How it was his work that brought us here. I think of the last time I spoke to Ruth or any of my uni friends. It’s been ages since I felt normal.
“I need to go back to the vineyard,” Seb says. “For a week this time.”
I pause, then say, “I’ll come with you.”
“Don’t you want to go back to the UK instead?”
Eleanor’s words are on repeat in my mind. You don’t run from your marital problems. Ever.
“No, I’m coming with you.”
Seb sighs. “You can’t. It’ll be too busy, and I’ll be living with the workers.”
I’m not surprised by his words anymore. He’s embarrassed by you.
“Fine,” I say, stabbing at the cheese with a fork. “I’ll stay with Alma then.”
We’re quiet for what feels like forever, then finally, he says: “Next time, okay?”
The rest of the meal passes slowly. Our food arrives, and we eat in silence. When Seb pays the bill, I make a mental note to schedule a call with Alice when I’m alone.
“Maybe you should spend a few nights with Deb while I’m away,” Seb suggests on the drive home. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window and I catch my breath. Me sitting here, next to a man who says he loves me, whilst Deb sits at home all alone.
“I’ll do that,” I say, turning my body towards Seb’s and placing a hand on his lap. All the way home, I think of Deb. How she must feel.
And how I can’t end up like her.