Page 46 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘Tell me everything! I want to hear all about the day,’ I said. They turned to look at each other. I noticed that Nick was in a dark suit with a small rose in the lapel and Stella was in a chic cream cap-sleeved dress with the same type of rose tucked behind her ear. They looked giddy and madly in love. They were in technicolour, and I realised, as I caught my own reflection on the screen again, that I was sepia – mourning the end of something that hadn’t even ended yet.
I’d been so sure that following your heart only led to implosions. But had I got it wrong? There was a reason Nick was going to be trusted with life and death situations – he was smart, disciplined, focused. And Stella lived deliberately too, just in a quieter way. They were both the opposite of thoughtless – but still, they’d jumped.
And Nick had also seen the foundations of our family crumble. But maybe he’d learned the smarter lesson: to still try, but do it better, love harder.
When Lily had first told me that Nick and Stella were together, I’d felt a familiar pang of bitterness – I felt like I’d been blindsided again. As I watched them both, luminous with happiness, I realised that I didn’t feel bitter, I felt jealous.
‘Jealousy is an important emotion if you use it the right way,’ Grandma Evelyn used to say. ‘It tells you what you really want, deep down.’
I wasn’t jealous of their love but rather that they’d moved towards that love, that they’d let themselves be together and happy. I was afraid and miserable and bracing for a broken heart.
After I’d asked them every possible question about their wedding day and said congratulations over and over, I used the dregs of my almost empty savings account to send Nick and Stella an enormous bunch of flowers. I showered, got dressed, ate then sat on the roof outside Lily’s bedroom until the sun set, much later than it had at the start of the term.
I tapped out a long phone number, listened to the melodic international dial tone and took a deep breath.
‘I’m moving to London with you,’ I said. Alex had returned from London late the following day and had come straight to my room.
‘They let you transfer?’ he asked. I shook my head and saw his eyes narrow with confusion.
‘No, apparently they barely made any grad offers in London this year,’ I said as steadily as I could. ‘I gave it up.’
‘You gave it up?’ he repeated.
I nodded. ‘I’m eligible for a two-year Youth Mobility Scheme visa that will let me work. I’ll apply for jobs here,’ I said, trying to sound confident. ‘Until I get one, I can try to find something casual in a cafe or a bar. Maybe do some tutoring.’
‘You’ve already quit?’ he asked. For the first time since I’d met him, he was acting like his brain didn’t work at supersonic speed.
‘Yep, I called them last night. It’s done,’ I said. ‘You’re happy, right?’
‘Yeah, of course,’ he said. I couldn’t read his face. ‘You’re not leaving me.’ He wrapped his enormous arms around me.
‘You know, the first time you saw me,’ I said when we finally pulled apart, ‘you thought I was going to leap.’
He nodded at the memory with a smile that lit up his aquamarine eyes.
‘I did want to,’ I said. ‘I mean, not off a roof. But just... in life. To finally do something that I really wanted to, even if it didn’t make any sense. I wrote a list of whether I should stay or go. And the only logical thing to do was go back home. Except... I’m going to try to live without lists for a while, I think.’
He stared at me for a moment. ‘Rebecca...’ His eyes darted away from me. It was the first time I’d seen him lost for words. ‘Thank you,’ he said finally.
I tried to shut down my whirring brain. Maybe he’d been less thrilled by my news than I’d expected because he was just as aware as I was of all the difficulty that came with this decision. Alex had access to sparse uni accommodation – would it still be romantic in the dead of winter? How would we go living together when we didn’t have college cleaners, or dining halls that served us food? How would life look when it wasn’t just one big expanse of time to fill, when both of us were busy working? But no, I wasgoing to try to live without risk governing every move, without lists and rules. I was going to try to be happy. To just be.
‘I’m not naive. I know we’ve been living in a bubble. But I want to try real,’ I said. ‘And anyway, we still have two more salad days here.’
Alex smiled again and I melted into his arms.
Chapter 22
NOW
Matt paused in the bedroom doorway. I could see us through his eyes – Alex leaning forwards, his eyes lit up, and me sitting up against the bedhead, cheeks flushed. Had he heard our conversation? We hadn’t been talking quietly.
‘Are you okay?’ He rushed across the room and kneeled beside me, taking my hand, which still had the hospital wristband around it.
‘I’m fine now,’ I said in what I hoped was a reassuring voice. ‘I had an allergic reaction. The EpiPen worked, and they didn’t have to do anything else at the hospital. I feel normal now, just exhausted.’
He visibly exhaled.
‘What are you doing home?’ I realised as soon as I’d asked the question that it was the wrong thing to say in front of Alex, that somehow, I’d revealed too much. I immediately wanted to recall the question, like an email gone to the wrong address.
