Page 90 of The Matchmaker
“It’s not. This is your fault.”
“It is.”
“You shouldn’t have talked to me.”
“I shouldn’t have,” I agree, as Noah’s excited voice sounds from the hall. “I’m sorry.”
She grows flustered as soon as she hears it. “I can’t let him see me like this.”
“He won’t notice. Just pretend you got dish soap in your eye and go upstairs. I’ll put out some plates and—”
“I brought doughnuts!”
Gemma breaks away from me, blinking rapidly as Adam appears in the doorway. Adam who takes one look at us, spins around, and promptly bumps into Noah. “You got the PlayStation set up?”
“Mam says I’m not allowed to turn it on until my friends get here.”
“Are you or are you not the birthday boy? I’m pretty sure you can do what you like.”
“But Mam—”
“Show me that new game you were telling me about. The one with the aliens.” Adam’s voice fades as he ushers him back into the front room and the television soon starts blaring.
Gemma grabs a piece of paper cloth and blows her nose. “Sorry,” she says thickly. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“It’s not that, Gem, and you know it. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I’m fine. Honestly. This was just the final straw.” She throws the tissue away and reaches for a stack of disposable plates, stripping off the plastic wrapping. “I’m just annoyed that even when Darren’s gone, he’s getting to me. I don’t know why I keep letting him get away with this.”
“You’re not letting him do anything. He’s just a dick.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want Noah to know that.” She drops the plates on the table, her eyes already dry again. “He’s getting to the age where he’s starting to compare himself to his friends, and I know he thinks he’s coming up short. And it’s question after question after question. Why don’t we go abroad like other families? Why don’t I have time to chauffeur him around all the sports camps? Why can’t I afford to send him to the camps in the first place?” She shakes her head. “He’s starting to resent me.”
“He’s not.”
“He is. When he was younger, I could pretend it was a game. But he’s too smart for that now. He’s too…” She tips her head back, her hands going to her hips as the doorbell rings again. “Am I wearing mascara?”
“No.”
“Thank God.”
I’m about to tell her again to go upstairs and take a break, but before I can, Adam slips back into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.
“What the hell did he do now?” he asks, furious.
“Who?”
“Your shithole of an ex-husband. Don’t even pretend this isn’t because of him,” he warns. “What did he do?”
“Why?” she asks sarcastically. “Going to beat him up? Just leave it. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big— you’recrying.”
“And it’s none of your business!” she exclaims.
The two of them glare at each other from opposite sides of the kitchen until a quiet knock sounds on the door. A moment later, it creaks open, and Callum sticks his head in.
“Hope it’s still an open invite,” he says, stepping fully inside. “I got him a…uh…” He trails off, his attention bouncing off the three of us as he detects the charged energy in the room. “New football?”
