Page 106 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

‘Magda dropped by to ask him to take her to pick up some furniture in his truck, but he did say he’s going to take me out tonight so we can discuss… things.’

‘Like a date?’

I shrug. ‘He didn’t use the word date. He said dinner.’ What he actually said, once Magda finally left the room, was dinner somewhere public where we won’t be tempted to rip each other’s clothes off.

‘Sounds like a date to me.’

‘What are you two whispering about?’ Kat drifts over to clear the table beside us while there’s a lull at the counter. We’re currently her only customers and she looks grateful for the break.

‘Lee and Nico have a date tonight!’ Tara sings. ‘Guess who finally acted on our advice!’

Kat swings her attention towards me. ‘No!’ she says.

‘Yes,’ I nod.

The bell rings over the door.

‘Sorry, Clyde!’ Kat trills. ‘We’re closed.’

‘It’s four o’clock,’ Clyde grumbles, looking at his watch.

‘Fine, let me grab you your bran muffin, but we’re closing for the next hour.’ Kat hustles to the counter, popping a muffin in a paper bag and thrusting it at him. ‘This is a girl talk emergency.’

‘You don’t need to close the café for me,’ I say.

The look she gives me is scornful as she shoos Clyde out the door and slaps the ‘Closed’ sign in the window. She drops into the seat across from me, her phone already in her hand. ‘I’m texting Mei right now, but I can’t wait until she gets here. Tell me everything.’

That evening I stand in front of Nico’s bed, wrapped in a towel, deliberating over what to wear for this date-that-maybe-isn’t-a-date. At this point I have tried on and discarded every single item I have access to.

The tone that I need to set is very specific. I need to look casual! Unfazed by the extremely intense sex we had this morning! Ready to talk about what it means to be having sex when we are actually married and involved in an elaborate legal deception!

I know what I should wear – jeans. Jeans would say all of these things. Only I don’t own any and I don’t think a denim miniskirt is going to be the right call. I make a mental note to ask Kat to take me back to Target.

Tragically, staring at the clothes is not making a new and perfect outfit magically appear. I’ve already worn pretty much everything here in differing combinations. (I am a master at packing the capsule wardrobe, but even my ingenuity has been stretched by an unexpected three-week trip.) I wish Gran was here. She’d throw together the perfect thing in five seconds flat, and I’d feel confident and right.

I experience a wave of sadness because we’ve barely spoken – only exchanged a few texts here and there, which isn’t like us at all. I know that physically she’s fine, but not what’s happening in her life. And for the first time ever she really hasn’t got a clue what’s going on in mine.

She’d probably get a kick out of it, actually.

I pick up my phone to text her, just to check in again and make sure she’s taking all her medication, that she’s feeling good. What I get back is a blurry photograph of her pill organiser next to a half-empty bottle of champagne. Still, at least today’s compartment looks to be empty.

I try not to fret over the fact I’m not there to keep an eye on her, that she’s still sending me snarky photos instead of an actual message.

Please don’t forget about your appointment with the GP on Wednesday, I text. That one gets no response at all, but I can tell she’s seen it. I suppose that will have to do.

With a sigh I turn back to my clothes, eventually settling on a soft, oversized cream jumper paired with buttery tan-coloured suede trousers.

I add some simple gold jewellery and understated makeup, pull my hair back into a loose braid, spritz myself with perfume, and it’s only taken around ninety minutes to make myself look like a human woman who hasn’t tried too hard. God, this is exhausting.

Unsure how to proceed at this point, I sink onto the edge of the bed and stare at the door. Through it, I can hear the low murmur of Nico and Phoebe’s voices, the soft hum of occasional laughter, like it’s just a regular evening.

I twist the small gold hoop in my ear and take a steady breath. So why am I sitting in here alone? What am I waiting for? Nico to knock on the door with a corsage?

It’s not even necessarily a real date, Lee, and it’s certainly not the bloody prom.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

Chapter Thirty-Four