Page 85 of Paper Roses

“Of course. If he looks after you, I’m happy.”

“I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing.”

“Oh, I think we are.”

“You are a mystery wrapped up in a ridiculous conundrum tonight. Let’s talk about you, instead. Seeing anyone new?”

“Yes.”

I narrow my eyes at the unusual brevity of that reply. “And? How long have you been seeing this one?”

“For a month.”

“Wow! That’s like a declaration of eternity with you. When do I get to meet her?”

“Maybe at a later date.”

“But Ialwaysmeet your girlfriends.”

“Not yet. I want to keep this to myself for a while. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” I say after a moment of surprise. We both seem to be doing some growing up. “You know I’m always in your corner.”

“I do. And I’m so proud of you, Artie. I know how hard it is for you to speak your mind like that, especially to Ben.”

“Thank you.”

The energy buoys me all the way home. This speaking your mind is a marvellous thing. I give a little skip and make my way up the steps, fumbling for my keys.

The door opens before I can get them out of my pocket. Jed looks down at me. “Ben not with you?” he says, peering down the street. His voice is very tight, almost monotone.

I gape at him. “I thought you’d be in bed. We’ve got a really early start for the wedding in Cornwall tomorrow.”

He stands back to let me in. “As if I’d go to bed without knowing you’re…”

“What?”

“Home and safe,” he says reluctantly.

I keep glowing as I follow him down the corridor.

“You seem happy,” he observes.

“I am.” We pass the lounge and I notice something new. “Oh, you got the sofa out,” I exclaim.

The huge new sectional sofa was delivered yesterday, but we didn’t have time to do anything with it. Now it’s set in front of the fireplace, the cushions we chose arranged, and a newspaper open on it. Flames in the fireplace crackle and pop, filling the room with the scent of applewood and making the room look so cosy. My mum’s Tiffany lamp has pride of place on a side table, and it twinkles in the firelight.

“Yes,” he mutters. Rather than stopping to admire it with me, he stalks past me into the kitchen. I direct a bewildered look at his tight back, the muscles showing gorgeous definition.

“Are you okay?” I give the sofa a last fond look and trot after him into the kitchen. “You seem very tense.Ouf!” I rebound off his back because he’s stopped dead in the middle of the room.

“Do I? Do Ireally?” His eyes glitter, but his expression is unreadable. If it weren’t for the tic in his cheek, I wouldn’t know how tightly he’s holding on to control.

“What’s the matter?” I ask immediately, coming close. “What’s happened?”

“Where’s Ben?” he snaps.

“Ben?”

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