Page 60 of How To Not Need You

I catch Freya’s eye over Natalie’s shoulder. Freya’s mouth presses into a small, careful line. The kind of expression that says she’s heard exactly what I’ve heard, and she doesn’t know what to do with it either.

Natalie moves to the sink, rinses her roller under the tap, and water runs buttercream yellow down the drain.

“We used to have this thing,” she says, voice slightly raised over the water. “Sunday mornings. He’d make these ridiculous pancakes, like, cartoon-level stacked, with whipped cream and berries, and I’d bring the coffee. Every week. Rain or shine. Even after Rebecca, he still…”

She stops for a second. “He still texted me the pancake emoji every Sunday morning. Just the emoji. Nothing else.”

I don’t know about the others, but I am finding this damn uncomfortable. I also don’t know what to do.

Do I stop her? Do I remind her that he is the one who is being an asshole by not trusting her?

I can’t do that. But to make it even worse, she's not crying. She's not angry. She's talking about Matthew like he's still her person even while he's refusing to believe her.

I hate that for her. I hate him a little too. Which is probably unfair.

I decide I can live with that.

We fall back into rhythm. Rollers against plaster. The drill whining. Elsie wiping spots that may or may not exist. My arm aches in that good, earned way that means I’ve done something physical and my body hasn’t entirely forgiven me for it yet. The yellow spreads under my brush, and somewhere between one stroke and the next, my mind drifts back to this morning.

I’d stayed at Jake’s last night for the first time.

Not because we’d planned some grand relationship milestone. I’d stayed too late, we’d ended up talking in bed until well past midnight, and eventually leaving had seemed like significantly more effort than admitting I was staying.

Which is how I’d found myself standing barefoot in his kitchen at a deeply offensive hour this morning, wearing one of his old station shirts while Jake got ready for work.

Tilly wasn’t there, but Hades was sitting beside his food bowl staring at me like I personally controlled breakfast distribution. And I was drinking coffee from the mug Jake had apparently decided was mine now.

I was choosing not to examine any of that too closely.

Jake came down the hallway with his backpack slung over one shoulder and stopped when he saw me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not a nothing face.”

“Come here.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer. Just caught me around the waist, dipped me backwards and kissed me like we were in the final scene of some painfully cheesy romance movie.

By the time he pulled me upright, I was laughing. “What the fuck was that?”

He shrugged, entirely too pleased with himself. “Just trying to improve my romance game.”

Then he winked. Actually winked. “See you soon, beautiful.”

“Never do that again.”

“The kiss?”

“The wink.”

“You liked the wink.”

“Go to work, Reid.”