Page 52 of The Best Ex of My Life

It’s funny. Now I’m not focusing on getting over my feelings for Elliot, I’m remembering how nice it is to be with him, how good we are in each other’s company. I could keep the silence going or change the subject and allow myself to enjoy being here as his friend again, but I realise doing that isn’t being his friend at all because that’s not what he needs.

‘This afternoon. You didn’t look good, El. What’s going on?’

‘You caught me at a bad moment. Nothing’s going on.’

‘I’m not sure that’s entirely true,’ I say to him gently. ‘When I walked into that office earlier, my first thought was that you looked ill. If that’s what it is, you’re allowed to take a sick day, you know.’

‘I’m not ill,’ he says flatly.

‘Are you sleeping enough? Getting enough food? You look like you’ve lost weight.’

‘I’m fine, Lizzie. I’m busy, that’s all. Thank you for the lift home and the meal, but I should probably get back to work.’

He shifts his weight on the bar stool, but he doesn’t get up. He doesn’t grab my bag from the counter and hand it to me or fake yawn or any other signal that he’s desperate for me to stop pulling at this thread and to leave.

‘How are you finding the new job?’ I ask.

He turns to face me, and I can see the internal struggle playing out in his eyes as he chooses how much – or little – he wants to say to me.

Please open up, I will him, and when he takes a deep breath, I’m hopeful he’ll let me see past the stern front he’s putting on.

‘It’s awful.’ He shakes his head and blinks rapidly to stop his eyes from letting go of the tears that have suddenly filled them. My hand had been on top of his, lightly pressing on it to encourage him to talk, but now I squeeze it tight. ‘Fucking, disastrously awful.’

‘Oh, El. I’m so sorry. What is it that’s so awful?’

‘Everything,’ he practically shouts at me. He runs a hand roughly through his hair and breathes in a few times through his nose to steady himself. ‘Sorry, it’s just all a mess. The whole lot of it, and no matter how hard I work, no matter how many hours I put in, I can’t seem to get better at any of it.’

I won’t tell him that I’m sure it’s not as bad as he’s making out, that I know it will get better, or that these things have a way of sorting themselves out because those are empty words. I don’t know that, and I hate it when people say that sort of crap to the pupils in my class when they are dealing with real, complex problems that can’t be brushed away with good thoughts and positive energy.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say instead.

‘Yeah, thanks.’ He doesn’t sound thankful. He sounds pissed off. At me. At himself.

‘How long has it been this way?’

‘I don’t know, since the first day of the new job, when I realised how much pressure there was going to be on me. I spent so long preparing for that fucking interview, trying to prove I could do the job, it didn’t occur to me to ask myself if I wanted to do it or if I’d be happier staying where I was in our department.’

‘And do you? Want to do it?’

‘I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve much choice, is there?’

‘Of course there is. If being an assistant head is making you like this, maybe it’s worth considering telling Mr Montgomery exactly how you’re finding it and trying to come up with a solution together.’

He pales even further at the suggestion. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll figure it out. I need to give it more time, that’s all.’

‘OK.’

He pulls his hand out from under mine, so he can reach for his wine glass and take a huge sip. Then he drops his head into his hands, and without thinking about the fact I’m touching the man I care about, the man who is going out with my best friend, I take his hands in mine again and hold them tightly.

‘You’re going to be fine, Elliot. I promise.’

He looks up at me, and for the first time all night, his eyes look a little less troubled.

‘Thanks. That helps.’ He pauses, before gently saying, ‘You help.’

He’s looking right into my eyes, and I’m the first to turn away.

‘Does Teddy know about any of this?’