and down as much of it as I can. ‘He might’ve given me all that “I’m going to win you back” crap, but I won’t let him near me again. Trust me Emma, I’m completely through with him.’
Liar, liar, pants on fire, a little voice at the back of my mind whispers. Deep down, I know Scott and I will collide again. The magnetic pull between us felt as strong as ever when I saw him standing at the bar. There’s a sense of inevitability surrounding his grand return to Silverdale; fate will find a way to bring us back together.
It’s only a matter of time.
*
It happens, of course.
After a series of apparently ‘chance’ encounters around Silverdale, we find our way back to each other. We come together in a moment of pure heat and passion, without a thought for what the consequences might be.
‘God I’ve missed you,’ he murmurs as his lips caress my bare skin.
‘I’ve missed you too,’ I breathe, allowing the moment to sweep me away. As my entire body shivers with delight, all I can think about is right now. I don’t care what’s going to happen in the next minute, hour or day. There’s only me and Scott, right here right now.
That is, until the next morning, when I wake up alone.
Eight Weeks Later
As the song goes, guess it’s true I’m not good at a one-night stand.
Eight weeks have passed since Scott and I wound up in bed together again, and it’s safe to say things haven’t been easy between us since. Well, they wouldn’t be since he buggered off before I had the chance to make post-coital tea and toast.
As I roll over, some part of me still expecting cuddles and a good morning kiss, my heart sinks. Although the other side of the bed has been empty for a good while now, I’m still not quite used to it.
I haul myself out of bed and feel a wave of nausea wash over me. It’s been there for a good few weeks now; most likely a virus that I just can’t seem to shift. Fragments of the morning after our one-night stand play in my head; waking up feeling hopeful that things would move forward between us; a dull ache in my stomach when I realised he’d legged it.
My head hurts just thinking about it.
Suddenly, a cold sweat grips me and I rush off to the bathroom to be violently sick. When it’s over, I splash some cold water over my face and take a few deep, cleansing breaths. Being sick like this brings back some unpleasant memories that I’d rather not think about.
When I move back into the bedroom, I see something at the window that makes my heart twist in my chest: Scott passing on his way to work. He stops, looks up at the window and waves. Hot tears well up in my eyes and I bite down on my lip to stop myself from crying. I turn away from the window and screw my eyes shut, knowing that he’ll probably walk away a few seconds later. We’ve been in this routine for nearly two months now and it hasn’t got any easier.
He’s tried to tell me how sorry he is for leaving so suddenly. Apparently, he had a job interview to get to and thought I might need some space after our night together to figure things out. I know he wants us to try again, but I can’t let that happen. He’s left me once already, what’s to stop him doing it again?
How on earth did my happily-ever-after go so badly wrong?
*
My mum always says there’s no better cure for a broken heart than throwing yourself into helping other people.
I hold that piece of advice entirely responsible for why I turn up an hour early for my Carb Counters meeting. As group leader, it’s my job to get the space ready, which usually only takes about five minutes at most. There really isn’t an exact science to putting chairs in a circle, after all.
My two best friends, Emma and Zara, have come along on the pretext of giving me a hand, but I know they want the gossip on Scott, and they know that I know. I’ve deliberately not told them anything, preferring to keep the details to myself. I don’t really want them to know that I woke up to an empty bed that morning eight weeks ago, and I’m not sure if that’s out of embarrassment or because I don’t want them to think badly of Scott.
‘So …’ Emma begins, her voice bright and cheerful. ‘Looking forward to tonight’s session? What workout have you got planned?’
I can’t help but smile as I move some chairs to the centre of the room. My best friend definitely wouldn’t make a good actress.
However, I decide to humour her for a minute or two. ‘I’m thinking of doing an aerobics routine. You know, really torch some calories and get everyone’s metabolism going. What do you think?’
Emma’s bright grin becomes a little more pained. She’s absolutely bursting to ask me about Scott, but doesn’t want to dive in right away. The small talk is driving her crazy; she looks like she’ll spontaneously combust any second.
‘Sounds good to me. What do you think, Zara?’
I look up just in time to see Emma shoot Zara a pointed look. There’s clearly been a discussion between them before they arrived to help me tonight.
‘Yeah!’ Her voice is loud and stilted, like she’s acting in an awful straight-to-DVD movie. ‘That sounds brilliant!’
Emma grunts in frustration and throws her hands up in the air. ‘OK, I give up. Cleo, what’s the deal with you and Scott? He came back nearly three months ago, something happened between you two and you haven’t said a word about it. You haven’t had us round to your house to drink wine, eat ice cream and gossip. In fact, you haven’t even told us what happened! Are you OK?’
I feel a lump rise in my throat and my eyes begin to water. One look at the concern on Emma’s face finishes me and I collapse onto one of the chairs, throwing my head into my hands while I sob my heart out.
Emma’s arms are around me in seconds. She pulls me in for a comforting hug as strangled wails burst from my chest.
‘Everything’s ruined,’ I sob ‘It all went so wrong.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Zara soothes, pulling up a chair next to me. ‘There isn’t much that can’t be fixed. What happened?’
I back away from Emma and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. ‘Guys, it’s really bad. We—’
Before I can tell them the gory details about my night with Scott, the door to the community centre swings open and the rest of my Carb Counters group swarm in.
‘Hiya Cleo, love!’ The group’s administrator Linda gives me a wave as she sits down to set up her moneybox and weighing scales.
‘Sorry guys,’ I murmur. ‘It’ll have to wait till later.’
*
The night is a successful one, with over two stone lost between all the group members since the last weigh-in. I beam with pride, as I get ready to do my exercise routine with them. I had some reservations about
