Anna jerked her head in the direction of the living room. ‘Asleep on the sofa. That’s why I came out, to warn you.’
Jamie pulled a face. ‘She’s so tired,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what to do to help more. Come on, let’s go through to the kitchen.’
They snuck past Nia and went into the kitchen, and Jamie pulled the door closed.
Anna couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t believe he was here, in the flesh, after all the years she’d looked for him in crowds and in bars and on streets. He was Nia’s, she reminded herself. The love of food and the name starting with J, it was all a coincidence. She let her brain adjust to the fact that the thing she’d dreamed of was never going to happen. Set fire to that dream. Stamped on the embers.
‘That time we went out—’ Jamie said.
‘Yes?’
‘I had a good time. I wanted to see you again. I lost your number.’
Anna had wondered about something as simple as that. She hadn’t had his number, so she hadn’t been able to call him.
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ she said.
‘No. Do you think, I mean, what should we say to Nia?’
Anna thought about her friend, struggling with her changed life and new to this relationship that seemed so right. She thought about the times they’d discussed James over the years, jokingly, and sometimes more seriously. Nia knew what Anna had built that night up into. She didn’t need to know that the guy Anna had always held up as her dream man was her own boyfriend.
‘Nothing,’ Anna said. ‘I mean, don’t you think?’
Jamie looked relieved. ‘I think so. It was so long ago, right?’
Anna nodded. It was. She tried not to be hurt by how quickly and easily he’d agreed with her. It had been her suggestion, after all. A memory came to her, of kissing him. Of the way he had held her face in his hands, the warmth of his body against hers. And then she pushed it out, swearing it would be the last time. A dream she’d carried through her adult life was dying – was dead – and she couldn’t let Nia or Jamie know how much it meant. She’d been ridiculous, she knew, to have built all she had out of one encounter. Nia had encouraged it, the way friends did. But she could see now how silly it had been.
Nia came into the kitchen, looking creased and sleepy and entirely at ease.
‘So you two have met,’ she said. ‘Sorry about the impromptu nap. I was so looking forward to introducing you.’
Jamie smiled. ‘Pretend we haven’t. Met, I mean.’
He caught Anna’s eye and she looked down at her feet.
‘Okay,’ Nia said. ‘Jamie, this is Anna, the only woman for whom I would genuinely jump in front of a bus. Other than Cara, of course. She’s brave and brilliant, and she lives in New-fucking-York, where we’re totally going to visit her one day, when I feel brave enough to take this one on a long-haul flight. And Anna, this is Jamie, the love of my life, or something likethat. He makes the best scrambled eggs in the world – I have no idea what he does to them, and I don’t care – and he made me feel butterflies even after I’d had seven awful dates in a row. You have to like each other, because I can’t choose between you.’
While she’d been talking, Jamie had taken a bottle of white wine from the fridge and was pouring three glasses. He handed them one each.
‘Thanks, N,’ he said, leaning across to kiss her forehead. ‘And it’s so good to finally meet you, Anna.’
Even though they’d both agreed it was the right thing, Anna felt uncomfortable about the lie being cemented like that. There was no going back on it.
‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I was trying to talk Nia into the two of us going out for dinner. What do you think?’
‘I think it’s a great idea,’ Jamie said. ‘Me and Cara will be just fine here. You get about three hours between feeds in the evening, right?’
‘Exactly,’ Anna said, although she had no idea how long Nia got between feeds. ‘And there’s that Italian just down the road – is that still there?’
‘That Greek place is better,’ Jamie said.
Anna shuddered involuntarily.
‘She used to go there with her ex,’ Nia said, and Jamie put his hands up, as if in surrender.
‘Nothing fits me,’ Nia said, but Anna could tell that this wasn’t a real excuse. She was almost persuaded.
‘Go in your maternity jeans,’ Jamie said. ‘Who cares? Just go and have a nice couple of hours with your best friend, who’s flown a long way to see you.’
