‘She’s hurting, she’s feeling betrayed, she’s struggling with all of this. I know I would be.’ There was silence at the end of the line, before Jess said, ‘Nate, do you love her?’
Did he love her? Could he not think without knowing she was alright? Was he crawling out of his skin not being able to talk to her, to touch her, to kiss her? He’d loved her since the moment he had picked her up out of the cow dung in the car park.
‘Yes,’ he said, hoarsely.
‘I’m glad you’ve admitted that to yourself because we could all see it,’ Jess said.
But saying it out loud, admitting it to his friends, he felt vulnerable. It scared him more than he wanted to admit. Laurel didn’t want anything to do with him, and it was just going to make his chest ache more.
‘So, if you love her, which you do, then what are you going to do about it?’ Jess was tough. He rubbed his eyes, his chin quivering slightly.
‘Jess,’ he whispered. ‘She doesn’t want to see me.’
‘Right, if I have to come there, I will.’
No thanks, Jess.
‘I saw how she looked at you. I talked with her. She loves you just as much as you love her, and at the moment she’s hurting and it’s easier to ignore you.’
He could only wish that was true, that Laurel loved him back.
‘So, are you going to sit around moping in your ratty jogging bottoms?’ Jess asked.
He picked at his ratty jogging bottoms, self-consciously.
‘Or are you going to do something? Are you going to prove to her that you are the man she thinks you are?’
‘Jess, I don’t know.’ He didn’t want to push Laurel.
But Jess carried on.
‘A grand gesture, Nate, that’s what you need. A grand gesture. Let me help.’
He didn’t have anything to lose at this point.
‘Okay.’
Laurel
There was no makeup in the world that could make her look human. Laurel tried, but the dark rings under her eyes just wouldn’t be covered up. Her skin was pallid and drawn, and because she had mainly eaten mini sausages and chocolate for the past week, oily and bumpy. But life went on, and there were emails to answer, there were people to cultivate.
The easiest way to cope, Laurel had found, was to not think about it. To keep extremely busy, to wear out her body and mind until the point of exhaustion so she didn’t have to lie awake thinking of him.
Laurel was finishing off an email to the vet querying how much the medication had cost for pig mastitis, because surely that invoice was way too high, when her door opened.
‘Sylvie, I’m busy,’ she mumbled without looking up.
‘Uh no. No, no, no,’ Rebecca said tartly, heels clicking on the floor as she strode into the room. ‘This is not how your life is going to be, thank you.’
‘Rebecca, why aren’t you at work?’ Initial relief was quickly replaced by anxiety. ‘Are the kids alright? Why are you home?’
‘Yes, they’re fine, the nanny has them,’ Rebecca said, checking her phone. ‘I’m here for you.’
‘Me? Why? What’s happened?’
‘Oh good lord, Laurel. You are a mess. A big fat mess, and I, as your best-friend-slash-sister-in-law, am not going to allow this anymore.’
Rebecca was pristine in her wide leg trousers and silk shirt, hair beautifully waved, the epitome of a successful businesswoman.
