Page 48 of The Way We Fell

Idon’tseeKatyfor a few days. She didn’t respond to my apology texts until the following morning, but since then, we’ve texted every day. We’re slowly regaining our footing with some polite small-talk messages and the occasional tame meme. Four days after our fight, I’m washing up the bowl I used for my cornflakes when I hear a light tapping. The sound cuts through the running water as I rinse the bowl, and the tea towel I’ve been using to dry the dishes is still slung over my shoulder as I make my way across the room to open the door.

Katy is chewing on her lower lip on the other side, nervously rocking from her heels to the balls of her feet. Her usual leather jacket is replaced with one of those Superdry windcheater jackets with about twenty-five layers and zips—the kind I remember my sister being obsessed with in her teens. Katy’s is black with pink detailing, and I think this might be the first time I’ve seen her in black. I’ve seen her in grey before, but it’s rare. She’s always wearing something light—usually pink—and looking like sunshine. But today, she’s pale and drawn, anxiety pressing heavily on her shoulders. I don’t like it.

“Can I come in?” She blinks up at me and presses her lips together like she’s fighting more tears. I hold the door open and step aside.

“Of course,” I murmur. It’s cold in the hallway, and with the door open, the cool air has probably drifted into my flat. I knock the thermostat up a degree as I follow Katy through to the living area.

“You want tea?”

“Tea would be nice,” she agrees in a small voice. “Thank you.”

I fill the kettle and put my breakfast bowl away, before pouring water into the first mug I pull from the cupboard and carrying it over. It’s green with Shrek’s grinning face on the inside base, ready to terrify whoever finishes their drink and uncovers it. I’m pretty sure it was a gift from Ruth.

“Katy, I’m sorry.” I sit on the opposite end of the couch, my body turned to face her. She turns to face me too. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“No, I-I’m sorry, too,” she says. Slowly, she tugs the cuffs of her coat over her hands and slips her arms free of its confines, leaving it to drop behind her. “I shouldn’t have just dropped it on you like that. You’re not a project to me, Jay.”

“I know,” I whisper. I curl my fingers into my palms, itching to reach out and touch her, but determined to hold back. There are some lines that, if I cross, I don’t think I could come back from.

“I mean it. You’re—you’re more than that. More than all of it. You—I—”

“Iknow, Katy,” I repeat. I don’t dare to imagine what she might be trying to say, with those big brown eyes scorching a hole all the way through to my soul, and her lower lip caught between her teeth again. I don’t dare to imagine she might be about to voice the same thing I’ve known for a while. The thing I’ve wanted to say, but haven’t had the guts. “Come here.”

I shift in place, pressing my back against the arm of the couch. I’d do anything to get rid of the sadness in those eyes. When I reach out, Katy slides along the seat towards me, and I pull her into a hesitant embrace, second-guessing myself as I wrap an arm around her, pulling her to me so her back rests against my chest. But she fits the space like she was made for it, and after a moment, we both relax.

We spend hours sitting together, with me holding her against my body. It feels good. It feelsright. Like we were made to fit together like this. Like all we’ve both been through has been worth the pain. Like the universe designed everything to bring us to this moment.

“If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?” Katy speaks without looking at me. Her head rests on my chest.

“Huh. I don’t know if I’ve ever thought about it. Maybe I’d go camping again. A tent, a sleeping bag, a forest somewhere.”

“Sounds… like it might be full of bugs.” Katy shudders. “Maybe quite nice, though. Peaceful.”

“Maybe you’ll have to come with me sometime,” I suggest lightly.Fuck. Did I just invite her to camp out with me—in a tent? In a sleeping bag? Today feels like a breakthrough in our relationship, but I’m in real danger of having us take one step forward and twelve back right now.

“Maybe I’d say yes,” she hums. “As long as you have plenty of bug spray.”

“That can be arranged, Princess,” I concede. “What about you? Where would you go?”

“Until recently, I probably would’ve said Mexico. But I’ve been now. I’d go back—I loved it there. But honestly? Right now… I’d go and see my mum.”

“Do your parents still have a place in London?” She went to see them recently, on the coast somewhere, and she’s never mentioned seeing them anywhere else. I’ve always just assumed they live down there full time. But I’m making conversation, and although I don’t like conversation with most people, Katy makes it bearable. She makes me like it.

Katy shakes her head against my chest with a sad sigh. “No, they retired and moved down to the coast after I went to uni. Sold all their properties in the city. They’re living it up in Eastbourne now. Gardening like there’s no tomorrow. Bingo every Tuesday, Bridge club on Thursdays. I think Dad even joined a bowling league.”

“What did they do before they retired?”

“Mum was a dentist. Dad did some kind of investment banking, and had a couple of rental properties. I don’t really know to be honest. He did plenty of work at home, but once he shut the door to his office, he refused to talk about it. The office was for work, and when the door closed at the end of the day, it was family time. They never expected me. They tried for years, but always thought they couldn’t have kids. So when I came along, and they were almost in their forties by then, they did everything to give me the best life.”

She turns to face me.

“They did, you know? I had the best life growing up. Sure, they were busy a lot of the time. I spent a lot of afternoons with Amie, and then with Amie and Roo, because they were working. But they did it to make sure I never wanted for anything. They deserve their retirement.”

“You miss them.” It’s not a question—more a simple statement. She speaks of them with a wistful fondness, and it has my heart clenching in my chest. She nods again, blinking back tears. I squeeze my fingers lightly against her hip, and eventually, she changes the subject.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“About me?”

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