Page 52 of Someone Like You

“If it’s not an issue to either of us, the case is closed.” Abby countered Phil’s sceptical look with an impatient one. “Some couples don’t watch movies or play sports together… We don’t have sex. What’s the difference?”

“Are you comparing sex to a hobby?”

“Absolutely. Not everyone has it, not everyone likes it or likes it the same way. It’s a recreational activity like any other.”

A crooked grin tugged at Phil’s lips. That right there was the woman he loved: confident and no-bullshit, practical to the bone.

How could he tell her he had feelings for someone else? Someone he was seeing on a daily basis and she thought was his good friend — which wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

Abby put a hand on his knee and stroked it comfortingly. “What’s going on, Phil?”

He held his breath. He cherished that — the tender intimacy of a simple caress, the sweetness of Abby’s kisses and her soothing hugs. He didn’t want to lose any of it. But he couldn’t live with all those lies rotting in the dark.

“I’m getting hard again.”

He let it out like a sigh, a thorn ripped out of his side, as if it was the opposite of good news. It didn’t compute right away.

“Oh?” Abby sat up, blinking a couple of times before the penny finally dropped. “Oh, Phil!” She pulled him into a bone-crushing hug that infused an unspeakable happiness into him. “That’s amazing!” she muttered against his earshell, stroking the nape of his neck. They stayed like that for a minute, savouring the embrace, then Abby pulled back to take his face between her hands, pressing her lips to his forehead. “I knew coming here was the right decision. We’re never going back to all that fancy frenzy.”

Phil faltered. “I thought you’d want—”

A big, luminous smile stabbed his heart. “I want you to be happy and healthy, and you were neither in Chicago.”

There had been a time he’d thought life in Chicago was good — hislittle life, made of trivial things, unpretentious. But now that he was taking his first bumbling steps here in Glasgow he felt like, for the first time, he was in the right place at the right time.

He brushed Abby’s hair behind her ears and granted himself a minute to contemplate his luck. This woman had done so much for him without ever expecting anything in return. She took his highs and lows with a smile, put up with his bullshit even when all he deserved was a slap, gave him all the space and time he needed, no questions asked. She was one of a kind and he still couldn’t believe they had found each other in the whole wide world.

He kissed her, a light, soft brush upon her lips, which stretched out into a smile as she kissed him back, just as softly. He’d missed this, this kind of spontaneous intimacy he’d denied them both out of fear it’d evolve into something he couldn’t give. But Abby would never force him and what she was offering him was exactly what he needed, nothing less, nothing more: just a kiss full of love and her priceless, soul-healing warmth.

Abby pulled back to run a hand through his hair, smoothing it back. “I’m sorry I was too self-absorbed to see that our old lifestyle was taking such a toll on you.”

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve done something when I realised I was struggling.”

“Dwelling on the past is no use. We need to focus on the present, and you know what? Your news deserves a celebration.” With one last peck, Abby left him on the couch and padded out of the room, returning shortly after with two cans in her hands. She placed one in front of Phil.

“A little bird told me you like it.”

It was beer, the non-alcoholic one he’d had with Ian.

“A little two-hundred-eighty-pound bird?”

Abby opened her can and took a nonchalant sip. “Maybe.”

“You and Ian are besties now?”

“We happen to be very fond of the same old fool.”

Phil’s heart did a funny thing, a shy leap in which affection and guilt battled to take over.

“Should I worry?” he tried to joke. “I can’t compete with a hot Scottish hunk.”

“Nonsense.” Abby opened the other can and placed it into his hands. “No one’s hotter than you.”

“You’re biased.”

“One-hundred percent.” Abby cuddled up against his side. Phil put an arm around her and they went back to the movie, whose plot he had completely lost track of by now.

He’d missed talking to Abby this openly. He’d tried to keep his struggles and fears to himself since moving to Scotland, wishing to take as much of a load off her shoulders as possible. She had more than enough to deal with: new workplace and new colleagues, new responsibilities, old friendships to rekindle, the frequent trips to London and Edinburgh… She didn’t need any other burden. But there were things that needed to be addressed.

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