Ugghhhh! Right, that’s it. From here on out, I’m going to be strong. Strong like Jemma. I’m going to be level-headed and sensible. I’m not going to get off with inappropriate people, or look for comfort in the wrong places. I’m going to be Zen and nun-like, and definitely, definitely not keep fucking everything up.
I lean on an outside bar for a moment, helping myself to another free shot and giving the barman a thumbs up. Then I open Tinder on my phone and swipe yes to the next fifty profiles, watching the matches ding ding ding in my notifications.
Maybe just a couple more fuck-ups.
I send a message to the first vaguely hot guy to DM me, suggesting we meet up for a drink tonight, and then I turn to go. I need to get out of this place and away from Harry. I need to get off with someone who isn’t Harry so I can pretend it never happened. I need to drink so much I don’t even remember doing it, so then I can’t be a bad person. I need to find something to distract me from what a shitty person I really am.
And that’s when I crash right into my future husband, Milo Samuels.
Chapter Twenty-TwoJEMMA
‘I think it’s time to ask him who he is.’ Salma is examining an old school photo of me from when I was fifteen. I’m all glasses and big fringe.
I glance up at her. ‘Oh god, really? Do I have to? Can’t I just live in this fantasy world a bit longer?’
We’re at Mum’s house, sorting through boxes of my old stuff. Apparently Mum has kept literally everything I ever owned, made or bought since the minute I was born. But now she needs us to clear it out, to make room for the new members of our family. So far, it’s mostly been about throwing away old craft projects we made in Design Tech. Oh, and quite a lot of tea towels we all drew on as kids in class that our teachers then sold to parents at an inflated price.
We’ve been here hours, but haven’t made a whole lot of progress. I’ve been too busy chewing Salma’s ear off about my book note writer, reading her each and every letter andre-examining each word, every bit of punctuation and the specific meaning of his sloping Ss.
Salma looks at me sternly. ‘No, Jem. No more fantasy world. I love you, but you’re too into your make-believe. It’s about time for some reality.’
‘Whyyyy?’ I whine, and she sighs.
‘I don’t want you to get hurt!’ she says, slumping down onto a desk chair. This is now my mum’s office, when she works from home. ‘And the longer this goes on – the more notes you exchange with this stranger – the more likely it is that you’re going to get hurt.’ She pauses, looking worried. ‘What if you fall for him, for real, and then he turns out to be a hideous fifty-something six-time divorcee with headless wives in his cellar? Or, y’know, something even darker like an estate agent? You need to meet this person for real.’ She waves her hands. ‘Or at least get a name!’
‘I have the letter E!’ I protest, and she tuts.
‘Well, there you go! What if it turns out his name is Ebenezer or something? You could never love an Ebenezer, could you? You need answers!’
I sigh heavily. ‘I guess you’re right.’
We’re quiet for a minute, putting items into binbags and examining old photos. I heave another pile of clothes into the donations box. This stuff hasn’t fitted me since puberty hit. ‘Ugh, where’s Harry anyway?’ I moan. ‘Shouldn’t he be forced to help us go through all this crap as well?’
‘Hmm?’ Salma avoids my eyes and I glare at her.
‘Salma?’ I say in a warning tone. ‘Where’s Harry?’
She relents. ‘He went off somewhere with Clara. She wanted help stalking that actor guy. You wanted help with this, so I decided we’d divvy you up.’
I frown, suddenly angry. Harry’smine, not Clara’s.
‘You’re jealous,’ Salma observes neutrally, and I stand up straighter.
‘Of course I’m not!’ I protest crossly, even though I know I am.
‘Clara’s our friend, too,’ Salma says gently. ‘I’m sorry if that bothers you.’ She makes a vaguely impatient noise. ‘To be honest, Harry and I feel a bit caught in the middle. Do you think it’s fair to us that you can’t be in the same room at the moment? That we have to split up to spend time with you both?’ She sighs heavily. ‘It’s annoying, but also genuinely sad. I thought you guys seemed to be getting on better recently?’
I shrug. ‘We were. We’re not anymore.’ My chest feels tight. ‘But that’s fine, good to know where Harry’s loyalties lie.’
Salma huffs. ‘Harry didn’t even know! He thought he was going with you and Clara. I had to trick him into going so Clara wasn’t left on her own.’
‘Harry’s a grown man, he can do what he likes,’ I say hotly. ‘I couldn’t care less.’
She eyes me warily. ‘Have you…’ Salma trails off and I look up, expectantly.
‘What?’
‘Have you considered…’ She stops again and I frown ather until she continues. ‘Have you thought about whether this note writer might be someone you know?’
