Page 46 of Love at First Sight

‘What!’ he says. ‘It’s natural! We all do it!’

He throws a pillow back at me.

‘Not in company,’ I say. ‘And for the record, thatstinks.’ I gag a little to make my point.

‘Impossible,’ Cal says. ‘My fartsneverstink.’

‘All evidence to the contrary.’ I waft the air in front of my nose.

Cal sits up straight and makes a butter-wouldn’t-melt face. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. Where were we? I shouldn’t have interrupted.’

I raise my eyebrows and purse my lips. ‘Because I’m going to continue talking about my daddy issues now, aren’t I?’

Cal pulls anoooopsface.

‘Well,’ I continue. ‘You got me to laugh. So. Compared to how I was feeling even twenty minutes ago, that is quite the feat.’

‘And people say farts aren’t funny …’

‘They’re not,’ I say, and quick as anything he bats back: ‘All evidence to the contrary.’

He’s got me there.

‘Well,’ I say, suppressing a smile. ‘Whatever. I feel better, so thank you.’

‘A pleasure,’ he says, smiling back.

‘Jessie?’

I look to the doorway. Henry is stood in his pyjamas, holding his Mickey Mouse.

‘You okay, pal? Did we wake you up?’ I say, getting up to hoist him into my arms.

‘I had a bad dream,’ he says, sleepily. ‘I miss Mummy.’

I pick him up and hold him close, letting his hot, sleepy head bury into my neck.

‘Let’s get you back upstairs …’ I whisper, stroking his hair. ‘I’ve got you, bubba. I’m here, okay? You’re safe. I’m here.’

Cal stands up and mouths ‘I’ll go …’ and I nod. Holding Henry, I check the back door is locked and flick off the lights everywhere except the hallway, where Cal opens the front door and says quietly, ‘Night, Jessie.’

Henry already feels weighty with sleep in my arms, his breathing heavy and restful.

‘Night, Cal,’ I say back. ‘Thank you. You know. For being here.’

‘I’ll always help you if I can,’ he replies, softly pulling the door closed behind him.

18

I cannot have feelings for Cal. I cannot have feelings for Cal. I cannot have feelings for Cal.

I thought about him as I fell asleep last night, and woke up to a text from him saying good morning, which means I’m thinking about him now. His eyes. The way his hair flops over them so he has to flip it back, like 1990s DiCaprio. His half-smile. Even the way he farted to make me laugh. I don’t know, it doesn’t feel gross, in hindsight, but like it was really quite sweet. And I know he’d never ‘choose’ me over Ali, and I wouldn’t ever want to put anyone in that position. I just wish he wasn’t with Ali. That they didn’t know one another existed so he could continue to be the man who danced with me on a summer’s night, who knows the right things to do and say when I’m sad.

My phone rings, snapping me out of my reverie and making me panic like hell, because it’s Ali. Does she know I spent the evening with Cal? Oh shit. Henry saw him in the house. Did Henry tell her?

No. Of course Henry didn’t tell her anything, he’s still asleep. And seven. Maybe Cal told her? Felt guilty and fessed up?Urgh, ihatethisihatethisihatethis.

‘Hello?’ I say, like her name isn’t on my screen and I’m unsure who is calling.

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