‘Wait a second, you didn’t know?’ Jacob frowned, lookingfirst at Luca and then at me. I stared at the shoelace of my left trainer, unsure of what to say.
‘No, I didn’t know.’ Luca breathed out. ‘I thought—’ But his voice trailed off. I watched his eyes land on the third finger of my left hand where my engagement ring hung heavier than normal. Confusion, realisation, sorrow all swirled across his features as I watched him rearrange the pieces in his head. I blinked, looking away, having no desire to see the final picture.
‘Shit. I’ve fucked up, haven’t I? Jenny, I’m sorry.’ Jacob blushed, swivelling to face me. ‘I thought he knew, I thought you – God, me and my big mouth.’ He smacked his palm against his forehead, silently berating himself.
‘It’s fine,’ I said, forcing a tight smile. But it wasn’t fine. Luca knowing meant that I couldn’t pretend any more. At least not around him. It felt as if the walls were steadily closing in, the space in which Joe still existed getting increasingly smaller, the prospect of it disappearing completely looming ever closer. I kept swallowing even though my mouth was bone dry, as if that would help keep my feelings inside. The silence stretched on, awkward and uncomfortable, broken only by the occasional squeak of Jacob’s Vejas against the varnished floor as he bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet. Luca’s mouth parted and then closed again like a goldfish.
Jacob cleared his throat.
‘I’ll just—’ He gestured vaguely over one shoulder, one hand gripping his upper thigh as though physically having to restrain himself from legging it straight for the exit. ‘Meet you at the car?’
I nodded, keeping my chin glued to my chest to avoid catching Luca’s eye as I hurried towards where my bag was slumped by the piano stool. I needed my bag to go home. And I needed to go home to see Joe. Home. The word jarred in my head, echoing round and round like a broken record caught on repeat. When had I started calling the pub home? Mine andJoe’s flat was home.Hewas home. My Joe. A daydreamer, an eternal optimist, the last person who still used full-blown punctuation in text messages. And forever, the love of my life.
My left hand fished my bag out from under the stool, my right hoisting the cardboard box clumsily under one armpit. But my hands were clammy, the lid slick against my palm and the bottom gave way, falling with a loud thump to the floor, black-and-white photographs scattering in all directions. One lodged itself under the battered toe of a black leather boot that appeared in my line of vision. I knew even without looking up that it was Luca’s. He must have followed me across the hall. We both dropped to our knees at the same time, taking it in turns to return the photographs to the box in silence. His fingers hovered over mine for a second, as though contemplating taking my hand in his. But he didn’t.
‘Jenny.’
My breath caught at the back of my throat and I looked up to see Luca kneeling before me, dark straight lashes framing his wide eyes. It was the first time he’d called me by my name. Normally, I was just Thompson to him. But hearing my name in his mouth made my heart leap into a full gallop.
‘I’m sorry about what I said before – about you not knowing what it’s like to lose someone.’ His voice was soft, a deliberate slowness to his words indicating that he was choosing each one very carefully, his face twisting with something resembling embarrassment. ‘I never would have said that if—’
‘If you knew my fiancé died?’
He recoiled as though I’d just slapped him. But I didn’t have the energy to choose my words with the same care that he was. I just wanted, noneeded, to see Joe. Snatching the final photograph from Luca’s hand I shoved it into the box and ran for the door, my shoulder ricocheting painfully against the doorframe as I went. I heard Luca calling after me but I didn’tturn back.
13
I have this theory about love. It’s all-consuming, somewhere along the way creeping into every nook and cranny, colouring every memory with its distinctive rosy hue. It’s bold and unapologetic, not afraid to make mistakes or colour outside the lines, until one day you realise you can’t see someone walking down the street swinging an orange Sainsbury’s Bag for Life without remembering the argument you and your other half had one time in aisle six. When they couldn’t make a decision on what to have for dinner and you stormed off, but they eventually tracked you down in the ice-cream section, holding a bouquet of flowers and the ingredients for pasta pesto. And that’s cute when they’re around, a funny anecdote to entertain friends with over dinner, or a shared glance exchanged outside a Sainsbury’s Local reminding you of it all over again.
But what happens when they’re gone? Where does that leave you? Broken? Incomplete? Immobilised, like I was right now? Forgetting why I’d even come into the pub storeroom to begin with as the naked lightbulb swung back and forth above me, illuminating the dingy three-metre by three-metre concrete floor where one New Year’s Eve Joe and I had made love. I shivered as I remembered how the cool stone had felt beneath my bare legs, the pleasant weight of Joe’s body on top of me, all his parts slotting neatly between mine as though we’d been moulded specifically with each other in mind. My hand reachedup, finding the spot on the back of my head that had bashed repeatedly against the side of a beer keg, the rhythmic clanging of metal drowned out by a distant, muffled cheer ofHappy New Yearand the cry of Joe’s name escaping between my lips.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’
I glanced over at Joe who was perched atop a stack of cardboard boxes, the memory fading to nothing in the musty air between us. Warmth bloomed across my cheeks. We both knew that he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. But we continued the charade all the same, neither of us wanting to pop the bubble by acknowledging Joe’s unnatural ability to read my mind.
I pouted. ‘They’re worth more than that, don’t you think?’
A smile flickered across Joe’s lips as he got to his feet, stalking slowly across the room towards me. He moved one step closer and then another, something hot and fiery crackling behind his lashes as his continued advances forced me to retreat, a breath escaping my lips as the heel of my shoe hit the hard wooden edge of the wine rack that ran the entire length of the wall. He’d backed me into a corner. Quite literally. And there was nowhere on earth that I would rather be.
‘They’re fucking priceless,’ he whispered in my ear, ducking his head to the space where my neck met my shoulder. He inhaled, a low moan rumbling through him as though my scent alone would be his undoing. I closed my eyes, chest heaving with longing as I sensed his hands brace against the wooden beam above my head, physically restraining himself from getting any closer. When I opened them again his nose was hovering a millimetre from mine, so close that my fingers itched to grab great fistfuls of his jumper and yank him towards me. Joe’s lips parted, his smile widening in recollection. ‘Especially the ones where you’re naked and I’m doing that thing you like with my—’
‘Jenny!’
Our eyes swivelled towards the door just as the old metalhandle started to turn. My breath caught in my throat, echoing around the musty, cobweb-filled storeroom as my heart hammered against my ribcage, the way it always did when I knew Joe was about to leave me. Again. I stared up at him, his chin dipping slightly to the wool of his jumper as he smiled. A smile that saidI’ll see you soon, then.
‘There you are,’ Matt sighed, opening the door just enough to crane his ruddy-cheeked face around. He frowned at me. ‘You OK? Look a little flushed .?.?.’
I puffed a stray strand of hair out of my face, my eyes fixed on the patch of concrete floor where Joe had been standing, as though if I stared hard enough, he might reappear. ‘Fine,’ I eventually croaked, a chill setting deep in my bones.
Matt just nodded, apparently satisfied with my monosyllabic response. ‘We need more of the Chardonnay too, whilst you’re at it. Oh, and don’t forget the tonic waters,’ he added, nodding his head at the pile of neatly stacked boxes that not two minutes ago Joe had been sat on. Tonic water.That’swhy I’d come in here.
‘On it,’ I said with a tight smile, bending down and running my palm over the top of the cold cardboard before hoisting two boxes onto my hip. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Joe being there one second and the next, just not. Gone in the blink of an eye, in a single heartbeat. But it never got any easier. Having someone you love taken from you prematurely. I carried the boxes back to the bar, repeating the journey four times over, something heavy turning over in my chest every time I entered the empty room.
I don’t really know how I spotted him. It was mid-Saturday afternoon, and some football match Matt informed me was abig dealwas showing, so the pub was packed, people spilling out into the beer garden for the first time this year. Maybe it was the raucous cheer as someone scored that made me look up at precisely the right moment. Or maybe it was something else. Thesame something that caused a familiar tingle to shoot down the length of my spine as I saw Luca stood in the flagstone entrance, hands buried in his pockets, gaze roaming about the room. I’d not seen him since the whole Joe revelation. He’d tried calling. Twice. But I didn’t want to have to explain myself. To admit that I’d let him believe my fiancé was still very much alive because the simple truth was just too painful to voice out loud. But also because I liked the idea that Joe and I, together, still existed in someone’s reality. Even if it wasn’t mine.
My heart began to race. I had about three seconds before he spotted me. And so, I did what any self-respecting thirty-year-old woman would do in my situation and dropped to the floor so fast that I fell smack on my arse. My head whipped one way and then the other, desperately searching for an escape route, but the pile of yet-to-be-unpacked boxes was still blocking the doorway, meaning there was no way around without standing up in Luca’s direct line of vision. Andthatwas not an option.
‘Err, you OK down there?’ Matt asked, frowning down at me as though I were an unwelcome bit of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of his shoe. A snicker from where Jacob was perched on a stool told me he’d already clocked Luca.
