BooksBarbecue
Back Afterlove
Chapters (86)
  1. Title Page
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Love
  4. Before
  5. One
  6. ONE
  7. Two
  8. TWO
  9. Three
  10. THREE
  11. Four
  12. FOUR
  13. Five
  14. FIVE
  15. Six
  16. SIX
  17. Seven
  18. SEVEN
  19. Eight
  20. EIGHT
  21. Nine
  22. NINE
  23. Ten
  24. TEN
  25. Eleven
  26. ELEVEN
  27. After
  28. One
  29. ONE
  30. Two
  31. TWO
  32. Three
  33. THREE
  34. Four
  35. FOUR
  36. Five
  37. FIVE
  38. Six
  39. SIX
  40. Seven
  41. SEVEN
  42. Eight
  43. EIGHT
  44. Nine
  45. NINE
  46. Ten
  47. TEN
  48. Eleven
  49. ELEVEN
  50. Twelve
  51. TWELVE
  52. Thirteen
  53. THIRTEEN
  54. Fourteen
  55. FOURTEEN
  56. Fifteen
  57. FIFTEEN
  58. Sixteen
  59. SIXTEEN
  60. Seventeen
  61. SEVENTEEN
  62. Eighteen
  63. EIGHTEEN
  64. Nineteen
  65. NINETEEN
  66. Twenty
  67. TWENTY
  68. Twenty-One
  69. TWENTY-ONE
  70. Twenty-Two
  71. TWENTY-TWO
  72. Twenty-Three
  73. TWENTY-THREE
  74. Twenty-Four
  75. TWENTY-FOUR
  76. Twenty-Five
  77. TWENTY-FIVE
  78. Twenty-Six
  79. TWENTY-SIX
  80. Twenty-Seven
  81. TWENTY-SEVEN
  82. Twenty-Eight
  83. TWENTY-EIGHT
  84. Eleven Months Later
  85. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  86. Copyright

‘This is nice,’ I hear her say as she follows me up, but I don’t need to look at her to know she’s being sarcastic. ‘It smells like this squat I used to live in near the station.’

My jaw clenches, ready to tell her to fuck off because while OK, yes, technically, this stairwell does smell of piss and weed, this is my home so I can say that, but she can’t. But I don’t take the bait, too tired to get into it with her. She’s being an asshole and she knows full well that she’s being an asshole.

She seems to think it counts as personality.

When I glance over my shoulder to give her a withering stare instead, she’s looking at the walls. ‘This Sicko guy is certainly very proud of himself, isn’t he?’

‘It’s not Sicko, it’s Syko, like psychopath.’

‘Sorry.’ She rolls her eyes and holds her hands up. ‘Did I offend your friend Syko?’

I stomp up the rest of the stairs until we reach the sixth floor. When I turn on to the gangway, Dorito isn’t there any more, which is a shame, because he’d hate Esen.

As I told my mother, cats sense evil, don’t they?

I stop outside my front door. It’s exactly as I left it; the light in the bathroom is off, but the one in the kitchen is on so I can see that the three mugs on the counter by the kettle haven’t moved, a tea bag still in each one. I ring the bell again and, again, there’s no response, so when I look up the gangway to see Esen swaggering towards me, her dark curls bouncing with each step, I wonder why she wanted to come back here.

It’s pointless.

She takes something out of her pocket and nods at me to get out of her way.

‘Don’t tell Deborah or Dev about this,’ she tells me, raising her eyebrows.

I look around nervously as I realise that she’s picking the lock, but before I can protest the door swings open and I have to swallow back a sob as I smell it.

Home.

She steps aside so I can go in first, closing the door behind her as I bend down to unlace my DMs. My fingers are fidgeting so much that it takes me a moment longer than usual and, as I toe them off, I gesture at her to do the same. She complies with a huff, unlacing her boots and kicking them off, leaving them on the doormat next to mine as I turn to look at the bathroom. The door is ajar, the light off, but I’m sure I can still smell pomegranate from the shower I took before I left to meet Poppy and every bit of me aches.

How was that only a few hours ago?