Page 202 of The Girlfriend Clause
“Yes.” She paused. “No.”
“What’s up?”
“Just… the redundancies were confirmed. Who’s going.”
“Yeah, the email went out today,” I said. She was still staring at her phone. “Andrea?”
“On a Sunday?”
“Bonnie’s call.”
She looked away. “It’s okay. I understand why… it just makes it more… real.”
Did she understand?We’d talked about it—how the company wouldn’t make it otherwise—but was there something she wasn’t telling me? Understanding something on paper wasn’t the same as watching people disappear.
“Do you want to get a coffee?” I asked. “We can have a chat about it, if you like.”
She blinked, then smiled quickly and dropped the phone in her bag. “No, it’s… it’s fine. Now’s not the right time.” Her heart looked like it was breaking.
“Andrea, are you sure? We can—”
“No. Thanks. Let’s… go and check out this cactus stall.”
I adjusted the armful of flowers and followed as she moved back into the crowd, keeping close so we didn’t get separated. I put a hand on her back, but she didn’t turn.
Was she really fine? Andrea wasn’t the sort of person to hold back, but this time, I wasn’t sure.
Chapter 43
Andrea
“You know Sainsbury’sdelivers, right?” Liam was backing into a parking bay near the shopping trolleys.
“Yes, but I like tochoosemy bananas. In person. They’re always too green or too brown otherwise.”
“No such thing as too brown,” he said. “Banana loaf.”
“You bake?” Never saw that one coming.
“It’s been known.”
“Personally, I like toplanto bake, then leave them in the bowl until they turn black and start to leak, and my kitchen fills up with fruit flies,” I said.
“Um… yeah, sounds about right.”
We grabbed a trolley and went inside. This was possibly the worst time to shop—everyone was on their way back from work—but Liam had insisted on coming with me. He always liked to help me.
The small, normal things seemed even more important than anything else we did together. Did he think thesame?
He followed me toward the vegetables.
“Could you grab me some of those?” I pointed at the tomatoes.
“Doesn’t Eliza like the cherry ones better?” he asked, grabbing a box and dropping them into the trolley, then slipping an arm around my back.
We moved along the aisle. I picked up a melon and pressed it with my thumb.
“Too soft,” I said.
