BooksBarbecue
Back Again, Rachel
Chapters (98)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. 93
  97. 94
  98. Acknowledgements

Luke, sitting diagonally opposite me, let nothing slip—but his mother had died less than two weeks ago, I could hardly expect him to be chatting away happily. Meanwhile, I was dizzy from successive waves of disbelief. Me, Luke and our new partners, out for a civilized dinner—how had this happened?

His hands were fiddling with the salt cellar. Three of his fingers sported silverware but there was no wedding ring. I remembered exactly when he’d taken it off.

Jesus.

It was taking all of my energy to avoid looking at him. Kallie, directly across the table, was the person I tried to focus on. But another of those woozy whooshes of memory lunged and my eyes cut to Luke—to discover that he was watching me. Our stare collided with such intensity that heat flushed my body.

Quickly my gaze dropped to the table-top but within moments I had to look again, to check that Luke Costello really was a mere arm’s length away.

He was still scrutinizing me. There was a slight furrow in his forehead and a lot going on in his eyes—and I flashed back six years, to the morning he’d actually left.

We’d been in the hall of our apartment and a jingling sound had made my nerves flare—his wedding ring. He’d taken it off and discarded it on the hall table. Then, with the crunch of plastic and metal, he dropped his house keys.

A part of me still thought this was some sort of stunt—but the conviction that it was real was quickly taking hold. It was suddenly difficult to breathe.

I’d tried to physically stop him. But, cold and unknowable, he’d peeled my hands off him. Holding me by the shoulders, he kept me at bay.

‘Luke, please, I’m begging you.’ My face was drenched with tears. ‘I love you so much. We can fix this, we’ll go for counselling, whatever you want.’

Looking for a tiny piece of connection, a link to the man I knew, a way back in, I’d have promised anything.

From his wintery stare, it was clear he wasn’t interested. I whispered, ‘Have you no compassion?’

He met my eyes, assessing my naked desperation—and his response was indifference.

Shaken, I tried to reconnect with the present. I am here in 2018. I am safe. I survived.

Quin was asking Kallie, ‘How did you get so much time off work? To be in Dublin with Luke?’

‘Are you kidding?’ Kallie exclaimed. ‘I’m working remotely. I can work anywhere, all I need is Wi-Fi and coffee. I have a gig in, like, two weeks so I’ll scoot back for that.’

‘What about you, man?’ Quin asked Luke.

‘Same. Working remotely. Fitting it in around my dad.’

‘He has his own company.’ Kallie sounded proud.

Luke shook his head. ‘Only small.’

‘Eight members of staff, honey. Nearly double figures.’