Page 16 of One Night With You

‘I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person,’ he utters. ‘I was damned if I stayed, damned if I didn’t. I was stuck. I started to get the shakes and sweats and I was chucking up at weird times. Millie was so worried – she thought I might have some underlying cancer or something andsheeven cried tome, saying she didn’t want me to die, that I had to get myself sorted out, seen to. I went to the GP and …’ He lets out an uncomfortable sigh. ‘I’m not proud of it, but he asked all these questions and I ended up crying, and he referred me to a therapist, but I didn’t go. As soon as I’d cried to my doctor I knew the truth: I didn’t love Millie.’

He looks so sad, like the memory haunts him. I know swapping tales of trauma can be a fake way to build intimacy – show me yours and I’ll show you mine – but his truth makes me want to share as well. I want him to know that none of us know what we’re doing.

‘My ex,’ I offer. ‘We weren’t ever really together. He had a girlfriend. I know that’s horrible, but he used to tell me he wasn’t happy with her, that he was searching for ways to leave her. He said that he wanted to be with me – but he neverlooked as sorry about it as you do. I know now that’s because he wasn’t ever telling the truth, in the end. He just wanted to have his cake and eat it. Men like Abe are the reckless cowards. What you did was brave.’

‘He sounds like an idiot,’ Nic says.

‘We’re all fools in love,’ I sigh. ‘Even hearing you call him an idiot makes me want to defend him, but that’s a habit I’m trying to break.’

‘That’s fair,’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t let anyone trash-talk Millie. Not that she did anything wrong.’

‘What happened to your house? Did you sell it?’

He nods his head. ‘Yeah. I’m just renting here though, until I know what’s what.’

‘Do you still talk to her?’ I ask.

‘No. It’s too hard. I know from others that she’s doing okay. I don’t want to say I left because of her – I don’t like to think I’m running away from anything. More like runningtowardssomething better. My brother has lived down here for a couple of years, and I’ve always liked visiting. So … Here I am. Seeking out adventure, I suppose. Seeing what’s outside the town I grew up in.’

I smile. ‘That’s exactly how I try to think of moving, too,’ I say. ‘Not running away. Running towards something new.’

What I don’t let myself say is that, lying here right now, I have this unnerving feeling that in running towards something new up in Manchester, I might be missing something wonderful that’s just arrived in London. But that’s so absurd. We barely know each other, really. And anyway, if I wasn’t leaving I’d never have crossed paths with Nic in the first place, so it must have always been meant to happen like this. I had to be selling my stuff for him to buy it; he had to be arriving for me to be able to say goodbye. This moment, thisnight, it feels like the stars aligned precisely so I could have somebody else give me permission to embrace what happens next.

Maybe one night, twelve hours, is enough to make you see things differently, and that’s a gift to make the most out of.

The clock in the living room chimes 5 a.m. It’ll start to get light soon.

‘What are you thinking?’ I whisper, the postcoital cliché slipping out of my mouth before I can help it. I just want him to keep talking. I want to know everything about him before we go our separate ways.

He smiles at me, the dawn soft through the flimsy curtains, casting gentle light over one cheek and forcing the rest into shadows.

‘I can’t believe I only met you a few hours ago,’ he admits, and the way he says it makes my heart soar.

Quietly happy he’s said exactly what I’ve been feeling but still cautiously holding him at arm’s length in case I seem too eager, I reply, ‘You’re very charming when you’re trying not to be sincere, you know.’

‘I can’t believe myfirstnight here is yourlastnight here, that’s all.’

‘Life is nothing if not mocking of us,’ I say, rubbing a hand over his chest.

‘Deep,’ he quips.

‘I don’t know what else to say,’ I sigh. Lightly I add: ‘I’m glad this was how I spent my last night though. Thank you.’

What I can’t say is:I’m scared.

‘Same,’ he says. ‘Maybe I’ll see you in Manchester, or back here when you come and visit.’

I let his offer permeate the air between us. He’s lovely, andkind, and he’s exactly who I needed two years ago instead of the head-fuck that was Abe. But the thing is, I’m not the womanIwas two years ago.

I’ve changed. This connection with Nic makes me wonder if there could be something more between us, but if I say I’ll see him again, it’ll be like I never truly learned anything. And isn’t life supposed to make us keep repeating the same mistakes until we catch a bloody clue? I can’t see him again, because I’m supposed to be savouring how to be on my own. I’m supposed to be going to find myself, letting the parts of me unfurl unimpeded, discovering how to be a phenomenal film-maker and deciding who I really am. I can’t let myself be distracted by anyone. Especially not a man I met over Facebook Marketplace who paid sixty quid for my sofa. I have to be honest with myself – and with him.

‘This can’t be anything more than a one-night stand,’ I find myself saying. ‘I’ve committed to this course, as a sort of Year-of-Me thing. Do my degree, get creative, no distractions. Especially, you know – men.’

He takes a beat, but replies: ‘Understood.’

‘Sorry.’

‘No, don’t be,’ he says. ‘It’s okay. I know what this …’ He trails off. ‘You’re leaving. I just got here. We get one night.’

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