Page 12 of Someone Like You

“I’m still struggling to find my footing,” he went on, much less despondently. “I don’t know how to go back to who I used to be…before.”

“You got money problems?”

“No. My books sell well, I have a steady income from renting out my apartment in Chicago, and even if I didn’t, Abby wouldn’t hesitate to make a kept man out of me. Why’d you ask?”

“You can afford to heal on your own terms. Maybe instead of tryin’ to go back, you should focus on movin’ on.” Ian pushed the plate of biscuits in front of Phil. “Just an idea.”

Phil wasn’t a sweet-tooth nor a food enthusiast, especially since starting the medication, but the biscuits had an inviting buttery smell, so he leaned onto the table with folded arms and picked one up, rolling it around between his fingers. “Wow, that was… really deep.” He turned a touched look to Ian, and for a moment everything went quiet and still. Then Phil popped the biscuit into his mouth, smirking sardonically as Ian’s massive chest started shaking with a soundless laugh.

“Shut up and finish the coffee before it gets cold.”

* * *

It was way past midday when Phil got home. He expected Abby to be angry, or at least worried, as he’d only noticed the notifications of her two voice notes on his smartwatch when he reached their front door.

The spicy smell he found upon entering suggested Abby had ordered Indian takeout for lunch — one of Phil’s favourites.

“I’m back!” he announced. He followed the cluttering noises coming from the kitchen. “Abbs? Sorry, I lost track of time…”

Abby was emptying the dishwasher with AirPods in her ears, swaying her hips to the rhythm of something that sounded like aLady Gaga hit Phil couldn’t name. She wasn’t startled when he touched her arm, nor did she admonish him for being so late.

“You look satisfied!” she exclaimed instead, taking in his ruffled hair and sweaty clothes.

“It was good,” he said sheepishly. He hadn’t expected Ian to take him by his word and actually challenge him to show up for an early run twice a week in addition to what apparently now wastheir Saturday run. So now Phil had a 5 AM alarm set for Mondays and Thursdays, the first real appointment he’d committed to since arriving in Scotland, and he wasn’t even sure how it had happened.

Abby was, of course, ecstatic to hear that.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new playmate?” she asked when they sat down to eat.

Phil was starving. The quick shower had brought out a soreness in his muscles, but at the same time he felt energised, as though the exertion had recharged him rather than tired him out.

“Ian isn’t very social,” he said, wolfing down three forkfuls of rice in a row. He didn’t know why that remark put a smile across his mouth.

“Of course it’s another lone wolf!” Abby poured herself some red wine, then switched to the water jug to pour some into Phil’s glass. “You could invite him over for dinner. Just the three of us.”

Phil couldn’t object that he’d only spoken to the man twice, because he’d let Abby believe they’d been running together on a daily basis for over a week — which still didn’t sound nearly enough to have someone over for dinner, to Phil — but Abby had entirely different friendship standards.

“I’ll try,” he promised. The bright side of this was that, if Abby met Ian, there was hope she’d stop nagging Phil about his asociality.

“What does he like?”

“Uh… Italian?”

“Oh, brilliant! I can askziaBruna if she can make us lasagne! Make sure he has no intolerances.”

“I will.”

Phil was dumbfounded by how smoothly he was answering questions he wasn’t even listening to. The situation was escalating way too fast. At this rate by the time he and Abby got married he’d be standing at the altar with Ian as his best man.

The most staggering thing was that, all in all, he didn’t completely hate the idea.

chapter 4

IAN

Ian Galloway wasn’t fond of surprises, curveballs, or anything unanticipated in general. He prided himself on being a reliable man, a reliable worker, and in return he expected the world to show him the same courtesy. Plans needed to be stuck to, timetables respected, promises kept. It was a simple ground rule that had always helped keep his stress levels to a manageable minimum. This was why he couldn’t fathom how on earth he’d ended up befriending a guy who’d quite literally crashed into his life out of nowhere

It was unclear even to Ian himself how the situation had unfurled: there had been an incident, a few nearly heated exchanges, and then he’d found himself sitting in Sandra’s cafè with this complete stranger like it was normal for him to share hissacredSaturday espresso with just about anyone.

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