Page 19 of Someone Like You

“That’s very straightforward of you.”

Abby snorted. “I could introduce him to Tammy.”

“I’m not sure he’s into women.”

Phil didn’t know why he said that. He was quite positive Ianwasinto women, as his only objection when being teased about potentially dating Anna had been her age. The chances he’d find Abby’s cousin interesting, however, were high: Tamara was as pretty as Abby, just taller and a couple of years younger, and she was sharp enough to be a good match to Ian’s wit.

Phil’s stomach churned. He couldn’t stand the idea of someone else bantering with Ian. But even if therewassomeone else whocould hold their own with him, a part of Phil was aware that the natural chemistry he and Ian had had right off the bat had set the bar pretty high.

Not that it truly mattered. It was a mere question of pride.

The other question of pride that was plaguing Phil was his growing desire to get back into writing. Failing would be a humiliation he wasn’t sure he could endure, but he felt strong andvitalenough to take a risk.

Telling Abby required almost more courage than the intent itself. She was a big fan of his work, had been since before meeting him, and she, like tens of thousands of other readers around the world, was patiently waiting for a new novel bytheP. J. Hanson.

“I’m considering getting a bike,” he said on Wednesday morning over breakfast

Abby stopped mid-chew, lowering the spoon into her porridge. “A bike.”

“Abicycle,” Phil clarified, then shrugged one shoulder. “I could go to the café with my laptop, see if I can get something done…”

One of the reasons he likedLa Dolce Vitaso much, besides the excellent coffee and pastries, was that Sandra’s Italian accent was so much easier to understand than the local Glaswegian. The woman’s maternal ways were also a welcome plus: Phil couldn’t deny he relished getting special treatment, even when he occasionally showed up without Ian.

“That’s a fantastic idea!” Abby let out a happy squeak, clapping her approval. Phil knew she was going to carry that joy to work and spread it onto everyone she met. People were going to assume she’d won the lottery or something, when the lame truth was that her boyfriend had finally gathered the guts to pick up his sorry life again. “Have you seen something you like?”

“There’s this shop near Glasgow Green, caught my eye as I jogged past it the other day.”

“You’re finally getting acquainted with the city!”

“My local guide is annoying but very competent.” Thanks to Ian, Phil was learning to navigate Glasgow’s streets without the aid of Google Maps. There were a couple more cafés he’d spotted that he was curious to check out.

The reflection startled him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d feltcuriousabout something.

“I like the model they have in the window.”

“We should go and get it!”

“We should,” said Phil, but the topic died there, so he put it on the back burner, secretly relieved he had an excuse to put off this dare he’d made with himself.

The next week, however, the day before leaving for London, Abby called him to the hallway and Phil found her posing with the shiny black mountain bike he had seen inBilsland’s shop window, plus a brand new backpack for his laptop.

An elated grin lit up Abby’s face. “Happy birthday!”

Phil shook his head with a helpless smile. “It’s not my birthday.”

“It’llbeyour birthday at some point.”

His birthday was in April, six months away, but that was an irrelevant objection, because nothing could stop Abby when she had a goal, particularly if the goal in question involved helping Phil get back on his feet. Unable to reject the gift, Phil pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead, squeezing her to himself. “I love you,” he whispered against her temple. “So damn much.”

Abby hummed, enjoying the hug, then rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Ever since Phil had started growing distant and aloof in the early days of his depression, she had never tried to force any display of affection on him, nor had she ever made him feel bad for not kissing her or touching her the way a partner was supposed to. She was content with whatever Phil was willing to give her, even when what he gave her was nothing.

“I love you, too, you old fool.”

And Phil held her tighter, wondering why this embrace so full of affection wasn’t numbing the sense of emptiness he carried inside.

This is not enough, whispered a cruel voice in the back of his head.

Phil felt sick — not for the appalling thought per se, but because, deep down, he was afraid there might be truth in it.

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