‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to let me in. I want you to trust me. I want you.’

I made a sound. A whimper.

‘Caitlin …’ His voice dropped, hands sliding off my elbows, down my arms, until they were holding mine. Holding on. ‘My life might be easier without you in it. But that’s not the life I want. Easy doesn’t mean good. It doesn’t mean happy. I think you know that.’ He took a breath. ‘I think that’s why you’re here.’

I frowned, not sure what he was saying. His eyes were nearly black and he was so damn perfect. Like a postcard. I felt the warmth again. The fear.

I looked away. At the wall. Old bricks piled on top of each other, the mortar crumbling under their weight, barely holding them together.

It wouldn’t take much. Some building work nearby. One of those tiny earthquakes nobody even felt. A water leak in the bathroom upstairs. One would go, and then they’d all tumble down after it.

‘I can’t,’ I said, pulling my hands away.

Silence. When I looked at him, he was looking at the ground, hands in front of him, fighting with each other. His jaw was tight, twitching and he was frowning. But he wasn’t arguing. He wasn’t saying anything, because he knew too.

‘You should go.’

When he spoke his voice was raw and low. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Please.’

‘Caitlin, I—’

‘Don’t, Tom. Please don’t.’

His mouth opened, and then closed.

And slowly—achingly slowly—his chin tipped, just a fraction. Enough.

I’d been waiting for it, but it still stung, burned like a slap, so much that my hand flew up to my face to make sure he hadn’t made contact.

‘Okay.’ He paused. ‘If that’s what you want, Cait.’

I nodded. ‘It is.’ It wasn’t. And I wanted him to know it, to argue, to fight, to tell me I was wrong. To finish his damn sentence, make this all a hundred times worse but maybe better, somehow. But instead he nodded too, stood up.

‘Okay.’

I let my head drop, closed my eyes and felt the tears form, the familiar tightness in my chest. ‘I’m sorry.’

He didn’t answer.

Finally, I felt his fingers graze the top of my head, stop for a second. ‘Bye, Cait,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you round.’

I nodded again, squeezed my eyes shut tighter and didn’t say anything, and then his fingers were gone, and I heard the door open and close and he was gone too.

26 THURSDAY, AUGUST

26

THURSDAY, AUGUST

My phone was ringing.