Page 125 of If We Were Young

“What? But what about Hannah and me? This is our home.”

She brushed past me with her mean old lady elbows. “Don’t worry. Don’t worry. We will get it all sorted. Oooh, Ronnie, you should see the bathroom in one of the places. It’s a wet room. An actual wet room that’s supposed to be wet. I’d never have to worry about wet shower curtains again.”

“Uh.” What was going on here?

Ma walked in the house calling Hannah, not realising she was sat right at the table.

I lifted my gaze to Matthew. His sapphire blues read every inch of me. “This seems like a bad time.”

“I don’t know what’s happening here. Everything is going bonkers in there.” I cringed at the thought of Ange and what she’d just told me. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” I tried to smile at him. Tried to ignore the memories of just two days ago. But I couldn’t. They ran through my head in technicolour glory; gasps and moans, an intensity of feeling I didn’t know could exist within one single moment.

I took a breath. His eyes met mine. “Let’s make this into something else. You were right. I never said it the way I should have done. I wasn’t brave enough, too scared to show you in case I didn’t measure up. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life, but I’m telling you right now.” His gaze held all the stars of heaven in its depths. “I want you and me to make something…” His words trailed off. What adjective could he use for everything that we could be? There wasn’t one big enough, bright enough, clever enough.

My fingers gripped the door.

It’s the words.

Not the same words.

These were the right ones.

He watched me. Waiting.

And I watched him and waited.

My mouth fell open.

My mother was inside planning to leave her family home.

His children were in Scotland missing their dad—again.

My daughter was just beginning to talk to me like I wasn’t from a different planet.

A million reasons why not.

It was Matthew.

Asking me again.

Photographs

“I want…” My breath caught. Just like before hesitation ran itself into fine knots around me.

This was a million snatched moments of neither of us being brave enough, but it would end with me.

I said nothing.

Not a word.

On the doorstep I stood with one foot in front of the other, as if I was just walking out, the door in my hand; it was a pose I knew all too well.

“You aren’t going to say anything are you? Ronnie, this is the time to speak. Anything. Say anything.”

I stared at him. I had all the words in my head but couldn’t get a single syllable to form on my tongue.

“I see.” His shoulders fell and he breathed out deep, resignation rolling off him in tangible waves. “I love you, Ronnie. Loved you. I hope you know that.” He coughed and cleared his throat, then his face smoothed out, the bitter emotion replaced with a calm mask. “Thank you for the rebrand, Ronnie. I think you got it just right.”

I nodded. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t the right conversation. I love you, too. Even though I’m stupid and well, so fucking stupid. “I hope you save the business, Matthew.”