Page 46 of Stella is Starting Over

‘I know.’ She laughs. ‘Shall we get a bit pissed?’

I’m still smarting over Florrie, who hasn’t messaged me since I’ve been here. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Go on.’

We open a bottle of cava because it’s all she’s got in the fridge and then we knock it back while positing increasingly less likely reasons that Richard might not want to shag her.

‘Maybe he’s impotent?’ I suggest.

She shakes her head. ‘Nope. When we were kissing he was very not impotent. Against my leg.’

I screw my face up, involuntarily. ‘Maybe he’s religious? Like when the Jonas Brothers all wore those purity rings?’

‘I mean surely he’d have mentioned that by now? Right?’

‘You’d think,’ I agree. ‘Why don’t you sack him off?’

For some reason, I’m very much hoping that she’s going to say this is a great idea and ideally she’ll message him right now to tell him to piss off.

‘I can’t.’ She laughs. ‘He’s perfect.’

‘How is he perfect?’ I ask, resting my hand on my chin. The chin slips. Or maybe my hand slips. Something slips and she laughs at me.

‘He’s. . . I don’t know. A grown-up. A good man. He wants a family.’

‘Everyone wants a family!’ I retort, picking up the bottle and refilling our glasses.

‘You don’t!’

‘I don’t know if I do.’

‘Okay, but Richard does. He wants a house in Richmond and lots of kids and an SUV and all the stuff that you need to be a proper family.’

I scrunch my face up. ‘You and Rose are a proper family.’

‘We’re two people. That’s not a family.’

‘Of course it is,’ I say. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

She shifts in her seat and twists her hair away from her face. ‘We always talk about me; let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about you – how’s your love life?’

I don’t know why I don’t tell her about Florrie. Actually, I do know why. Because I would have to tell her about the open relationship and because Stella is too grown-up and battle-worn to pretend that she thinks it’s a good idea, and I don’t want to do any of that.

‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘Nothing major to report.’

Stella makes us crumpets, which are technically Rose’s, and then lets me have two Babybels from the fridge.

‘I love people who have kids,’ I say, feeling really very pissed now, with crumpet in my mouth. ‘No one else I’ve ever dated has ever had Babybels in their fridge.’

Eventually, we decide that it’s time to go to bed otherwise we’re in danger of a repeat performance of meeting the arsehole ex-husband.

‘Time to go,’ I say, heaving myself up.

‘Thank you for cheering me up,’ Stella says, as we stand by the front door. There’s an orange street light coming in through the window, across her face. Her lips are so heart-shaped and full. She looks up at me. She parts her lips slightly and I’m pretty sure she’s getting closer to me. Is she about to kiss me? Is that okay? Am I going to tempt her into a drunken mistake that ruins this thing she’s got going with No Dick Rick?

‘Do you feel better?’ I ask, swaying slightly, trying to ascertain how much of a gentleman I need to be right now.

‘No,’ she says, smiling. ‘I just don’t get it. I thought he fancied me.’

I look down at her again. ‘I fancy you,’ I want to say, to cheer her up, because she should be cheered up. ‘I think about you when I’m having a wank sometimes.’