Page 71 of The Work Husband

It took me a moment to realise that she wasn’t referring to my thoughts about Jamie.

I blinked. ‘Daft about what? I mean, I know I’m daft generally, but specifically…?’

‘You and Sam live together, you noodle,’ she lectured. ‘He’s seen you first thing in the morning thousands of times. He’s seen you with spots and hay fever. He’s seen you trim the cuticles on your toenails. Seeing you this one time without any make-up on isn’t going to put him off. He won’t even notice.’

‘Yes, but…’ I took a compact mirror out of my bag and surveyed my face dubiously. I looked like someone who’d been crying, had barely slept and was still fighting off the remains of a hangover.

I didn’t have any bits of pizza in my teeth, but that was the best that could be said for me.

‘Fine, I’ll give you some of my Jones Road Miracle Balm,’ Molly relented. ‘I slapped it on after Arthur was born before I let Ben take any photos. It’s great stuff. But then you need to get going because otherwise you’ll be late, and that really would be a bad look.’

So, half an hour later, I found myself emerging from a Tube station in an unfamiliar part of North West London. I was breathless and sweating, but thanks to Molly, I at least had a bit of a healthy glow.

I’ll be at the Purlock Arms in Willesden at five, Sam had texted.

It was five minutes to five now. I checked the map on my phone and hurried down the unfamiliar street, thinking that, by now, it wouldn’t be unfamiliar to Sam. Had he ever got the train in the wrong direction and realised just in time that he was meant to be going home to Jared’s place and not to our flat, I wondered. Did he ever wake up in Jared’s flatmate’s bed and reach out for me only to realise I wasn’t there? Was he regretting his impetuous decision to move out?

Did he want to come home?

I supposed I was about to learn the answer to those questions.

The Purlock Arms was an unassuming pub on an unassuming high street, tucked between a bookmaker’s and a fried chicken shop. As I pushed open the door and the smell of beer greeted me, it crossed my mind that Sam might have deliberately chosen the least romantic location in London for us to meet in. Then I saw the door leading to a garden at the back and my spirits lifted.

Sam was sitting alone at a table under a cherry tree, its blossom long since gone. He was wearing his old camo shorts and a grey T-shirt that had been washed so often it was almost transparent. He hadn’t shaved.

My stomach contracted with anxiety as I thought, He doesn’t care. He hasn’t made any effort.

He hadn’t been scrounging light-reflecting multi-purpose hero skin saviours off Jared, that was for sure.

He smiled when he saw me and stood up, but we didn’t kiss or even hug.

‘Hey, Georgia,’ he said. ‘Drink?’

I half-shook my head, but then changed my mind. If I had a drink, it would feel like a date. It would feel like we were two people who liked each other, hanging out in a beer garden on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

‘A glass of rosé would be great,’ I said. ‘But I’ll get it.’

‘I’ve got a tab open. Have a seat.’

So I sat. Sam had left his phone on the table, the screen still illuminated. But I wasn’t tempted to look at it. If there were messages between him and Ava on there now, I knew what they would be about. I had no reason to distrust him – I never had.

I wished it was possible to simply erase the past few weeks – to make it so they had never happened. To rewind to when he’d first told me he was going to see Ava and say, ‘Okay. I trust you. I’m sure you’ll tell me why when you’re ready.’ I wanted that time back – that life. I wanted Sam’s shabby grey T-shirt back in our wardrobe, and to eventually see him come home with a replacement and be with him for the years it took for that one to become transparent with age as well.

I wanted him. I wanted him back in my life where he belonged. I wanted to feel happy and safe again.

Sam returned with our drinks and sat down. He raised his glass to me but didn’t touch the rim of mine with his. His face was set and serious.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Ava told me she spoke to you.’

There wasn’t going to be any half-joking back and forth this time about whose turn it was to go first.

I nodded. ‘She came round this morning. She explained everything. Sam, I’m so terribly sorry. About everything – what happened to her, which is just beyond awful. And what it did to her and you, which must have hurt you terribly. But mostly⁠—’

‘Mostly what?’

I stretched my hands out to him, almost pleadingly. ‘Sam, I’m sorry that those things happened. But they weren’t my fault. I wasn’t there. So I can’t really apologise for them. What I can take the blame for is how I reacted, and I completely, one hundred per cent do. You said last time I saw you that there’s no point in having a relationship without trust, and I didn’t trust you. I was wrong not to, and I want to apologise for that.’

‘Thanks.’ He gave a weary smile. ‘I appreciate your apology.’