Page 49 of All Yours

Robyn tucked her arm in tighter to her friend.

‘It’s a strange kind of anniversary for me, really. The day I almost got married.’ She kicked a stone off the path and it skittered into the river. ‘Finn changed my whole life on that day by walking away. Probably more than he would have changed it by staying.’

Wren shook her head. ‘Can you imagine what your life would be like if you two had got married?’

Robyn thought for a moment, straining her brain for an image of her and Finn watching television in the evenings, or walking a buggy together, kissing goodbye in the morning before work. But she couldn’t picture it.

‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘It was so long ago.’

‘I know, look at everything you’ve done since!’ Wren’s voice was upbeat, obviously now intent on keeping the mood lifted. Robyn nodded, happy to focus on the positives. Her life now was unrecognisable compared to the one she thought she was starting that day.

‘Actually, I had some good news yesterday too. The local florists loved the front door wreath I showed them and would like me to make up a batch for the shop.’

‘That’s amazing!’ Wren nudged her in the side. ‘See, it’s not like you even need a man for anything, is it? Although I bet someone else will come along. Someone that truly deserves you and is not afraid of commitment. I know it.’

Robyn sighed but said nothing. She didn’t want to come across all misery guts when Wren was trying so hard to cheer her up, but she didn’t believe it for a minute.

‘Want to come and stay at ours tonight?’ Wren offered. ‘We can get a takeaway and watch David Attenborough documentaries like we used to?’

Robyn laughed. David Attenborough? Wren was really pulling out the big guns.

‘Can’t, sorry. It’s the peak of the Leonides meteor shower tonight and the weather looks perfect for star gazing.’ She looked at the clear, bright winter sky.

‘Bit cold for that,’ Wren said, shivering.

‘I’ll wrap up warm.’ Robyn planted a kiss on Wren’s cheek. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

Fox

Saturday brought with it all the normal Saturday things. Football, burgers, film on the sofa before bed. Bedtime extension negotiated well by Reggie and begged for by George, and fifteen extra minutes granted to make him dad of the year. Eventually, two exhausted boys landed in bed happy.

Tired but restless, Fox popped a beer and sank back in his Saturday night uniform of joggers and a hoodie. He rubbed at his Saturday stubble, listening to the rasp of it in the quiet house. For the first time thinking it was not just quiet, it was too quiet.

The boys filled the house with noise all day, but when they’d gone to bed, he could hear the whistle of the wind in the chimney. He turned on the television and flicked through the channels, but nothing grabbed his attention. Glancing thoughtfully at his games console, he tapped his fingers on his thighs. He could play, but the last time he’d done that had been with Robyn and he couldn’t touch his controller now without remembering the feel of her body against his. He checked his watch – it was ten thirty. Definitely a bad idea to message her now and see if she wanted to come over but still, a part of him wanted to do it.

His phone went off from somewhere under a sofa cushion and he rummaged to find it, filled with the stupid hope it might be Robyn, having the same thought as him. Looking for a bit of company.

Erin: Hi

He stared at his screen in confusion. It was Saturday, wasn’t it? Not a weekday, not a working day. He shook his head. It was definitely Saturday, so Erin had no reason to message him and it made him feel slightly anxious, but also strangely excited. She was still typing, so he waited.

Erin: Are you around?

He checked his watch even though he knew exactly what time it was. Ten thirty. She should definitely not be thinking about her boss at 10.30 on a Saturday night. He swallowed. She was typing again.

Erin: I’d love to see you. I’m at the Cuckoo Bar.

Maybe she was just out with work friends and had had too much to drink. She’d probably have the biggest hangover in the morning and die of regret when she looked back at her text messages.

His stomach dropped into his guts and he knew his mouth was open. What was he supposed to say to that? His fingers hovered above the phone and he stared at the screen, imagining Erin with her glossy brown hair in the Cuckoo Bar, not that he even knew where that was. Although why he was even wondering that, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he could go, or that he even wanted to go, was it?

But how to tell her that, without making a big thing out of it and still maintaining a good professional relationship? He scruffed his stubble again, thinking.

Fox: Sorry. Can’t tonight.

Was that enough or should he just say no? He wasn’t sure he would go even if he could. Did he even like her? Sure, she had swishy hair and she was smart. But what else did he really know about her? Was he just being flattered into a situation?