Page 90 of The Last Kiss

“Niece really…” I trail off, not really understanding the dynamics of it all. I really should spend more time talking to Henri and less having sex. I ponder this for a moment… nah, who am I kidding?

“Anyway, how are you?” Liv directs us back to the purpose of her call, mainly to over parent me.

“I’m okay. Sorry I didn’t call yesterday. I got carried away when I got here. It’s so beautiful, Liv. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

She makes a snorting noise and shakes her head. “That’s because you’ve never seen anything other than London.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs World Seasoned Traveller.”

We both giggle, Marbella at the ex’s family holiday home isn’t world travelling.

“Actually, it’s going to be Miss soon.”

“Huh?” I rub the sleep out of my eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I went to see a divorce lawyer at work yesterday.”

“And you wait for me to leave the country because…” I shoot her my best glare via Apple FaceTime.

“Because I didn’t want you getting stressed, you’ve got enough on.”

“Liv, I haven’t got anything on.” Let this be known as the Gospel truth.

“You know what I mean.”

“So, what did they say?”

“That I’ve got good grounds.”

“Of course, you have!” I burst out. “He left you pregnant without a damn backwards glance.”

Liv shakes her head. “Anyway, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you. But enough about me, how are you feeling?”

I shoot a quick glance at Simone. “Fine. Fine. I got really tired last night and couldn’t make family dinner.”

“Tired how?”

“Just tired, Liv.”

I don’t know what she wants me to say. Am I supposed to report to her every time I get breathless, or my hands lose all sensation, or my heart races so much it makes me think I might be sick or just pass out flat on the floor? “Remember I came here to live.” I frown a glance at Simone who shows no signs of moving at all.

This is weird right? Why is she sitting on the end of a stranger’s bed?

“Okay, well don’t forget you’ve got Dr Francis next week. He’s going to want you to keep note of any changes.”

“Sure, sure,” I say knowing full well that the time for keeping notes is up.

“And don’t forget to keep your phone on you at all times in case the trans—”

“Okay, got it,” I cut her off quickly and her face drops.

“You still haven’t told him, have you?”

“Ooooh, really bad signal, you’re breaking up.” I cut her off, but then guilt stabs me deep in the gut and I shoot her a quick text: Love you. She sends back the eyeroll emoji and all is right in the world.

Which leaves me and Simone, two strangers sitting on a bed, one naked, one playing with her hair.

Sounds like a highly inappropriate kid’s rhyme.