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Backin the kitchen, she heard the distinct sound of another cork popping.
Fourhours later,Gabrielstill hadn’t come to bed.Jesschecked her watch.Itwas almost one o’clock now.
Shecouldn’t sleep.Disappointment, heartsickness and sadness tumbled through her, making it impossible to pass out.Andshe was thirsty.
Findinga robe on the back of his bathroom door, she put it on and padded out on bare feet towards the kitchen.She’djust slip in without disturbing them, using the hallway entrance to get to the glasses.
Themood in the room was a lot less raucous than earlier.Shepeeked around the corner of the cupboards and saw they were slumped on the sofa again.Fromher vantage point, all she saw were the crowns of their heads, resting on the back cushions.Onthe coffee table beyond, she noticed a whiskey bottle had joined the wine bottles.
Johnsonwas talking in a low, slurred voice about how he went back into therapy after they last saw each other.Itseemed to be working: he had better control of his emotions lately, the nightmares had stopped, and he’d made some big strides in his personal life.
Jessdefinitely shouldn’t be listening to this.Sheretrieved a glass from the cupboard as quietly as possible, trying to stay out of sight even though they were facing away from her.She’dfill it up in the bathroom.
Justwhen she was about to sneak back, she heardJohnsonsay, ‘Whatabout you, man?What’sup with this woman?Isit serious?’
Sheassumed that ‘this woman’ was her.Sheheld her breath, knowing she shouldn’t be there, but giving in to her base desire to hear his reply.
‘Jess?’Gabrielsaid, his deep voice sounding tired as he huffed a humourless laugh. ‘It’snothing.Justa holiday fling.Youknow me—I’lldie alone.’
‘That’stoo bad, mate.Sheseems nice.’
Pressingher lips together,Jessfought the tears that flooded her eyes again, and completely failed.Ifshe didn’t get back to the bedroom soon, they might hear her sob.Sheran on tiptoes and shut the door silently behind her.Fallingonto his bed, she buried her face in a pillow and let the tears flow freely.
Whata complete and utter idiot she’d been.
Ofcourse, it was just a fling.Deepdown she knew that.Somehowher heart had tricked her into thinking it was more.Stupid, stupid woman.
Sheshould have known better.Itwould have been too neat—breaking up with one man and jumping straight into a relationship with another.Lifedidn’t work like that and it probably wasn’t healthy.Whatare you doing?she thought.She’djust traded in her own problems for somebody else’s.Sheturned on her side and hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes falling on the picture ofFatimaagain.
WhatwasJesseven doing here?Shedidn’t belong inGabriel’sroom.Shewas an interloper here.Again.Fora few days, he had opened the door and let her in, but now it was time to leave with her head held high.Noscenes.She’djust go and let this whole experience become a memory.She’dreturn toLondonand get on with rebuilding her life, alone.Thatwould be the best thing for her: to spend some time on her own.
Gulpinghard, she pushed herself off the bed and changed out of her camisole into jeans, a shirt, and the pink hoodie she’d bought for the helicopter ride.Shepacked the rest of her things into her suitcase, even making room for the witchy cookie jar.Itfelt like a symbol of something…witches were strong women who chose to live on their own terms, alone if necessary.Orperhaps it was just a reminder to protect her heart better in the future.Eitherway, she wanted to keep it.
Sheopened the door to the bedroom and listened.Thetalking had stopped and now she just heard two sets of snores coming from the living room.Great.Shewould slip past, crash in the rental flat, and leave early in the morning for the train station.Fromthe razor-like snorts she knew weren’tGabriel’s, it sounded likeJohnsonwould be sleeping on the couch after all.
Takinga step, she stopped herself.Sheshould leave a note.Sherealised she still didn’t have his phone number, so shecouldn’t just send him a goodbye text.Yes, a note.Gabrieldeserved that.Eventhough things didn’t end how she would have liked, they had shared something…well, in her mind, at least.
Jessripped a page out of the notepad she always carried in her sack of a handbag and dug out a pen.Whatshould she say?Nothingtoo long.Justsomething from the heart.Shescribbled her message onto the paper and left it next to the picture ofFatima.
Thenshe silently left the apartment.
19
Gabrielwokeup on his sofa with a weight across his legs.Heblinked into the morning light streaming through the windows.Theempty wine bottles on the coffee table sparkled in the sun’s rays, momentarily blinding him.
Shieldinghis eyes, he looked down towards his lap at two blistered feet.Hefollowed the legs up to the face to findJohnsonpassed out, a line of drool running out of the corner of his mouth.
Gabrielsat up and cringed.Hishead throbbed with pain.DamnJohnson.Wheneverhe came around,Gabrielended up drinking like aBritishheathen.Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only way they’d come up with between them to handle the weight of their shared memories.
Happybirthday,Fatima, he thought.
Youforgetting something, you inconsiderate douchebag?her voice replied.
Hestilled for a moment and listened.AsidefromJohnson’sragged snores, the apartment was totally quiet.
Fuck.
WherewasJess?
