quietly.
‘I haven’t got a lecture until ten-thirty. You haven’t made me late.’
‘Can you stay for a coffee? I could show you around …’
I feel his body stiffen, almost as if a switch has been flicked and he lets go of me, pulls his phone from his pocket and looks at it. ‘I’d better get going. I still have to prepare some notes.’
Disappointment floods me, but I’m not going to push it. There’s no point. ‘Okay. Well, thanks for this.’ I hold up my phone and he throws me another smile before he turns away and heads out, stopping to talk to a couple of staff members who are hovering around in reception before he leaves. I watch closely as he exchanges pleasantries with Gillian, one of my masseurs, laying a hand gently on the small of her back as he leans in to her, both of them laughing at something he says. He’s a born flirt, my husband. He’s always been that way, he can’t help himself, charm oozes from every pore, and I think a lot of women find the fact that he’s an English literature professor but looks more like a movie star quite appealing. It was probably half the reason I was attracted to him, if I’m being honest. But the way he’s talking to them, when he finds it so hard to say anything to me, it’s like a knife in the back.
I turn away and busy myself sorting paperwork behind reception, and when I glance back up Michael’s gone, but as I look outside, I see he hasn’t left yet. He’s leaning back against his car, his phone to his ear. I come out from behind reception and go over to the huge bay window that overlooks the front grounds and car park. He’s still talking into his phone and he’s smiling. It looks as if whoever he’s talking to – it’s a friendly conversation, I’m guessing.
I fold my arms and take a deep breath, briefly closing my eyes. I’m letting way too much get to me lately. Maybe everyone’s right, maybe I am working too hard, but what choice do I have? I’m not the kind of person to sit back and let someone else take the reins. Besides, having something to focus on, it’s necessary.
Dropping my head, I take another deep breath, and when I look back up Michael’s getting into his car. I watch as he pulls away, drives out of the grounds. But I don’t move, I stay where I am, even though he’s out of my sight now. He’s out of my sight …
*
‘I seem to be getting a lot of male visitors this morning.’ I glance up as Liam sits down opposite me at a table out on the terrace. I’m taking a break, but I’m still surrounded by paperwork. I just thought a few minutes out in the sunshine might be nice. I thought it might help to clear my head. It hasn’t.
‘Well, I knew you’d be busy, so I thought I’d bring you some lunch.’ He slides a tub of salad towards me, the corner of his mouth twisting up into a smirk.
‘There better be a sandwich to go with that.’
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two triangle-wrapped sandwiches. ‘There you go. Ham and cheese okay?’
‘Perfect. Thank you.’
‘Are you lecturing this afternoon?’ I ask between mouthfuls of salad and sandwich.
He shakes his head, taking a sip of coffee as he looks around at the newly landscaped grounds that surround the terrace that leads out from the spa’s garden room.
‘No. I’m heading back to the lab. Got a couple of meetings this afternoon plus a mountain of paperwork to catch up on.’
‘But you still found time to go and buy me lunch, huh?’
I smile and he returns it. ‘Don’t want you going hungry. You can’t run an empire on an empty stomach.’
I sit back and briefly drop my gaze. ‘Did you and Michael …?’ I look up, my eyes meeting his. I need to know if he’s lying to me, too. ‘You met for a drink, right? Last night?’
Liam frowns slightly. ‘Yes, we did.’
‘Okay.’
‘Something wrong, Ellie?’
‘He’s lying to me, Liam. He said he had tutorials last night, but he didn’t. There was nothing in his diary, I checked with Sue. So, where was he? Between leaving the university and meeting you, where was he?’
Liam’s head drops, his hands clasped tightly together, and for a few, long beats he says nothing. But he knows, he understands what Michael and I went through; the reasons why we are the way we are now. That’s why I can talk to him.
‘I don’t know, Ellie,’ he sighs, raising his gaze and dragging a hand back through his hair. ‘I don’t know where he was.’
‘Did he say anything to you?’
‘Jesus, Ellie, come on. We don’t sit there and share emotional shit. We don’t do that.’
I look at him and I suddenly realise how tightly my fingers are gripping the arm of my chair and I quickly loosen that grip, feeling my shoulders sag as I do so.
‘Look, I know that what happened …’ He drops his head again, and I don’t miss the way he wrings his hands together. He’s frustrated, I can tell. ‘Nobody expected you to get over it in a fortnight, it was never going to be that simple, but, maybe now’s the time to start dealing with it. Properly.’
‘I’m dealing with it, Liam. You, of all people, know I’m dealing with it.’
His eyes are back on mine and he’s still frustrated, he isn’t hiding that fact.
‘Yeah. I guess you are.’
He stands up. He’s calling an end to this conversation, one I’m not even sure got started. There was more I wanted to say. Even though he doesn’t know everything, nobody does, he understands enough. And I need him, to talk to.
‘I should be going. I don’t want to be late for those meetings.’
‘He won’t talk about it, Liam. He won’t go there. I mean, sometimes it’s like he refuses to acknowledge it even happened. Is that the best way to deal with it?’
He shrugs and that irritates me, it really does. ‘Maybe, in this case, it is. I mean, how are you dealing with it, Ellie? Hmm? How are you really dealing with it, because, there are times when you don’t want to talk about it either.’
I look at him and I want to say something but I don’t know how to respond, because he’s right.
‘Sometimes talking isn’t always the answer, Ellie. You know that better than anyone.’
I stand up, gather my things together and start to make my way back inside. It looks as if we’re finished here.
‘Ellie, come on. I’m sorry, okay?’
I turn around and he comes over to me; he takes my hand and he gives it a gentle squeeze, his thumb running lightly over my knuckles. He doesn’t want me to go back inside angry or upset. I get that. He’s a good man, Liam Kennedy. A good friend, to both of us … though a better friend to one of us.
‘Okay. You’re sorry.’
He
