I widened my eyes. Eliza was hurt by the time we’d spent apart, too? It was good to know it wasn’t just me. She was opening up to me, being vulnerable. Perhaps I could do it with her, too.
Maybe.
Sometime in the future.
“You’re not still pining for your ex?” I had to be sure.
She shook her head again. “I’m not that pathetic.”
“Is sleeping with her every time you’re here doing you any good?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted her to realise it.
“Of course not.” She took a large gulp of her drink, wincing slightly. “But we were still attracted to each other even after everything fell apart. We kept hooking up because it was easier than actually dealing with the mess we’d made. And yes, I know how pathetic that sounds. But we still worked in bed. It seemed a shame to let that go just because everything else had dwindled.”
“Did you cheat on her?”
“Not with a person. With my work. I was never there. I prioritised every client meeting, every late night at the office, every family crisis over her. She used to joke she was married to a ghost.”
The pain in her voice was raw, unguarded. I felt an unexpected urge to reach across and cover her hand with mine.
“Did she cheat on you?”
She shook her head, but there was hesitation. “Not really. I mean, I think she slept with other people towards the end, but I’d already emotionally abandoned ship by then.”
“You were still married, though.” She was being a little too forgiving for my liking.
“In name. Nothing else. We were like polite strangers sharing a mortgage. And now, we’re not.”
The rawness in her voice made me want to know everything. How they’d met, when it had started going wrong, whether she’d fought for it or just let it slip away.
“How long were you together in total?”
“Five years. Two years of happiness, one year planning a wedding that felt sort of forced, then nearly two years of stubborn denial we could fix it.”
“Was it just work that killed it?”
Eliza twisted her mouth like she was tasting something bitter. “Work was the symptom, not the disease. It was family values. Michelle thought getting married meant creating this insular little bubble, just the two of us against the world. She couldn’t understand that my family was part of the package.”
“That must have been lonely.”
“Incredibly. I mean, my dad winds me up at times, but I still want to see him. I felt like I was constantly choosing between the people I loved, and my mum got upset by it. Michelle always made it feel like choosing her meant abandoning everyone else.”
“But you still miss her?”
“I miss the idea of her. The version of us that existed before we became so bloody toxic.” She stared into her drink like it might hold answers. “But coming here without telling her feels like cutting the last thread, and that’s terrifying and liberating in equal measure.”
Something in her vulnerability made me brave. “What’s the lesbian equivalent of cock-blocking? Because I’ll be that for you.”
She laughed for the first time all day. The sound was a relief.
“Clam-jamming?” she offered.
I made the face that deserved. “Whatever it is, I’m on it.”
She stared at me for longer than was strictly allowed, and the corners of her mouth turned upwards. “Thanks. I appreciate that. But enough of my romantic disasters. How are you feeling about meeting Roka tomorrow?”
“I’m bricking it,” I admitted, grateful for the subject change. “It’s mad we’re doing this at all. Three months ago, I was still working in my old job. Now, I’m meeting a pop star in Central Park like I’m in an episode ofFriends. Hopefully not the one where everything goes wrong. I keep running through my pitch, but I think it all comes down to chemistry. Whether she actually likes us.”
“We’re all queer. That’s got to count for something.”
