No wonder he didn’t tell me. No wonder he didn’t want to rewind something so painful. Now I think back, he just mirrored whatever I said. He said he was overworked, like me. Burned out, like me. He was just saying whatever would close the conversation down the quickest.
And, of course, the biggest proof of all is, he didn’t want to have sex. At this thought, I close my eyes, and tears seep out. No wonder he didn’t want casual sex—he was still nursing a battered heart. But I guess the truth—the truth I wouldn’t even admit to myself—is that I hoped it would be more than casual. It would be serious. It would be the beginning of something strong and long-lasting. The beginning of us.
Maybe somehow Finn realized that, and that’s why he turned me down. He wasn’t ready for the beginning of us when his heart was still in turmoil over the end of him and Olivia.
I don’t blame him for changing his mind. I’m glad he changed his mind. Oh my God, am I glad. I’ve found sex again, and it was incandescent, and nothing can take that away from me. But I do blame myself for seeing it as anything other than what it was: two strangers comforting each other. Two needy, broken people. Kirsten was right. I can’t bear it, but she was right.
I sink my head into my hands, my face soaked with tears now, because I’ve been so deluded. So stupid. I’ve been trying to find all the answers in other people. First I latched on to Wetsuit Girl. Then I latched on to Finn.
At that moment my phone buzzes and I stiffen, because it’s a message from him.
Therapy was great. Intense. Finn x
I quickly type out a response and send it:
I’m so glad! Good for you! X
As my phone buzzes with his name again, I feel guilty. I’ve been watching his entire life with Olivia, like some sort of movie, and he has no idea. He’s never told me Olivia’s name; he’s not tagged on Instagram. If it hadn’t been for that phone call, I wouldn’t have known where to look.
It’s kind of surreal that I know so much and he’s oblivious. But I can’t tell him what I’ve found out. I won’t tell him. If there’s one thing I’m 100 percent resolved on, it’s that.
I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Looking forward to getting back.
What will he tell me? Some edited version of his life with no Olivia or breakup or any of it? Another tear runs down my face, and I brush it away furiously as I reply:
Definitely! Can’t wait to hear.
I send it and stare at my phone, feeling physically drained, my mind still turning. If Finn was ready to move on, he would have told me about Olivia. Hinted, anyway. Shared something. But he’s been secret. Silent. Resolute. Can I be with a man who’s still hung up on another woman?
I let the question sit in my brain—but I already know the answer. Not now. Not with everything else. Not when I’m trying to rebuild my life.
Finn’s already sent another message, and I can’t stop myself opening it.
Btw I meant to tell you, I saw that fire too. Pete was burning some stuff in a bin. In a yard, yes? I was in my cousin’s house, saw it out of the window. Snap.
Hang on a minute.
I gaze for a while at the screen, grateful for the distraction. Finn saw it too? We both saw the same random event in a hidden-away backyard? That can’t be coincidence. In spite of everything, my heart starts thudding. Could this be linked to the messages on the beach?
Then I deflate. Even if it is, what am I going to do about it? Finn thinks the messages were written by Young Love fans. He’s only answering to be polite.
And more crucially: Why would I start up some new conversation with Finn when even thinking about him makes my heart crumple?
We were like two children on the beach, playing with our messages and mysteries. But the way I fell in love was grown-up. Grown-up hurt. Grown-up disappointment.
For a few moments I’m consumed by a sadness that seems to tear at my insides. Then I sit up straight, wipe my face, and deliberately turn off my phone. With quick, almost urgent movements, I throw on a coat, head out of my room, down the stairs, and out of the lobby.
I don’t stop walking until I reach the beach. I walk straight down to the waves, then stare out at the horizon. The vast sky is inky dark, peppered with more stars than I’ve ever seen. The waves are washing quietly in the moonlight, as though recouping their energies for tomorrow.
And as I stand there, soaking in the magical sight, my sadness is already less sharp. I feel stronger. More resolute.
I thought I was at the beginning of something beautiful, but instead I was in the middle of another couple’s blip. I just didn’t know it. Well, now I need to start something else beautiful. Something that I can make beautiful, without relying on anyone else. The rest of my life.
Twenty-Four
The next day, as I sit in the lobby of the White Hog Hotel in Somerset, I feel as if I’ve already made a start. I’ve just spent an hour talking to Lev, Arjun the COO, and a board member called Nicole, in a special conference room they’ve taken for the day.
It was extraordinary. They were respectful. They were humble. They listened to everything I said. And at the end of the meeting, Lev asked me to come back and work for Zoose. That one stopped me in my tracks. Go back? Go back to the hellhole of hell?
I obviously didn’t hide my thoughts very well, because Lev glanced around the room, then added quickly, “That’s something you’ll want to consider in your own time, Sasha. But between these four walls, Asher is … considering moving on. So there will be a vacancy in his position, and we thought perhaps you could fill it.”
It took me a moment to work out what he was saying. Replace Asher? Replace the head of marketing? Become the boss of the department? The boss?
Me?
For a moment I felt light-headed. I felt exhilarated. I felt the kind of soaring ambition I thought I’d lost forever. Then, five seconds later, the crashing reality hit me. Boss of the understaffed nightmare department that everyone wants to leave?
“Is there a budget for more staff?” I blurted out, and there was a huge laugh.
“Straight to practicalities,” said Nicole, and I flushed, realizing I should have asked what the salary was. Or told them I was fielding attractive offers from all their major competitors. Well, there we go. Too bad. In my next life I’ll know all this stuff.
“Believe me, Sasha, there’s a big budget for more staff.” Lev nodded. “There has to be. Things have to be different. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” I said, determined to be totally honest. “I think everything, all at once. It’s a big leap. It’s massive. It’s flattering, but it’s a huge job. A huge deal. And I’ve only just managed to switch off. So … I don’t know. It might take me ages to decide.”
“We’ll wait,” said Lev at once. “We’ll wait.” He looked at Nicole, then back at me. “We’ll wait.”
Now I’m waiting for my taxi to the train station, still a bit stupefied. Could it work for me to go back to Zoose? Could it be part of a beautiful new life? Are the two things compatible? Voices in my head keep putting forward arguments, and I keep finding answers for them. I’m not even close to a decision yet, but I’m slowly working my way there.