‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘Seeing Luke again? After … everything.’
A long time ago, she’d had two miscarriages, so she had some sense of what I’d lost.
‘I’m in bits.’ It was a huge relief to spill it out. ‘Last night, I dreamt I was still pregnant. It’s been a long time since that happened. And now … I fancy Luke. To put it mildly.’
‘That’s no surprise.’ Margaret paused. ‘Unless he’s aged very badly?’
I shook my head.
‘Isn’t it normal to want to reconnect in a physical way?’ she asked. ‘Like, you’re trying to pretend to yourself that you could have another baby?’
You see, that was what I loved about Margaret – her essential pragmatism. Her theory could make sense. It also absolved some of my guilt about Quin.
‘I’d like one night with Luke,’ I admitted miserably. ‘Not even a night – just to sleep with him one last time, as a way of saying goodbye.’
She looked concerned. ‘But remember, his mother has just died, he’s vulnerable.’
She was right about that. Luke had been mortified when he’d touched me and his body had reacted as it had.
‘And you’re vulnerable too.’
Right again. I was a shambles.
‘He doesn’t want to.’ I told her about the mis-sent text. ‘He really cares about Kallie.’
‘And you really care about Quin.’ Then, ‘Don’t you?’
‘But it’s not stopping me from obsessing about Luke. Which I’m ashamed of. But he’s leaving in three days, going back to his real life, and that’ll be it, I might never see him again. I’m freaking out because my window of opportunity is closing.’
‘You didn’t even do the inverted-comma fingers around “window of opportunity”，’ Margaret said. ‘You must be really upset.’
‘I am.’ I heaved out a huge sigh. ‘And now I’m going to see Quin.’
For the first time in over a year, I rang Quin’s doorbell instead of letting myself in.
‘It’s you!’ He was cheery, confident, smiley. ‘Why didn’t you use your key?’ He went in for a snog and I stepped away.
‘Quin? We need to talk.’
The colour leached from his face. ‘About what?’
I felt like the worst person on earth. ‘I promised I’d be honest with you …’
He pointed me towards the kitchen where, looking like a sleepwalker, he turned off the hob. ‘Your ex-husband?’
I nodded. ‘Yesterday we went for coffee. You know how I’ve always thought it was his fault we’d broken up? It was mine. Having to rearrange all my memories, the stories I’ve told myself, it’s confusing.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Quin, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got feelings for him.’
He flinched, as if I’d slapped him. ‘What about me?’
‘I care about you so much, Quin. You’re really, really important to me. But Luke is leaving on Sunday. I want to go to Mum’s party because he’ll be there.’
‘Last I heard, you and I were boycotting it because of him.’
‘If he’s going to be there, with all of my family, I want to go too, as a sort of full stop, if that makes any sense? It might draw a line under everything.’
‘So what exactly are you asking me for?’
‘Well … nothing. You asked me to be honest and I’m trying to be.’
‘Are you going to act on these “feelings” of yours?’
‘Luke wouldn’t want to.’
‘And if he did?’
Our eyes locked. Quin could see what I wanted. ‘Right.’ His voice was flat. ‘You’d sleep with him?’
I took a breath. The answer was yes but saying so felt too cruel.
‘Your problem is you want to time travel,’ he said. ‘You think if you sleep with him, you can pretend you didn’t fuck everything up in the past. But it won’t change anything. Except fuck up the present.’
There was nothing I could say. He was probably right. And it still wasn’t enough to quench the want in me.
‘Is this because of Monday?’ he asked. ‘To get back at me because I haven’t wanted to see you?’
I shook my head.
‘Okay.’ He sounded as if he’d reached a decision. ‘Go to the party, sort out whatever you need to …’ In frustration, he flung up his hands. ‘… sort out.’