Page 40 of Love Beyond Repair
Hearing his footsteps, Amy and I dart over to the sofa and throw ourselves down. He appears, looking forlorn, like he lost a match.
“They want us to go and see them,” he says, looking anywhere but at me. “They want to meet you.”
I stare at him blankly. “They already know me.”
“She says she can’t remember you.” He pinches between his brows, talking to his feet. My jaw drops in shock.
“I ate in their damn restaurant every week when we were growing up.” Then a trail of expletives leaves my mouth. “When? When do they want tomeetme?” My throat constricts as I try to form the words. This hurts. He shifts awkwardly.
“Now, if possible?”
I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance, when all I really feel is desolation. We leave for our holiday tomorrow, and now have to spend the evening brown-nosing his parents to keep them happy. And I have to do it knowing that they wish I was someone else.
Just. Fucking. Great.
Chapter twenty
Ben
I haven’t been this nervous since med school interviews. The silence in the car is doing nothing to help. Bex is staring out the window, legs crossed, arms folded. Her usual stance when she’s bracing herself to get hurt.
I want to reach over, lace our fingers together, reassure her. But my hands stay on the wheel. I can’t lie to her. This isn’t going to be easy.
My parents are not warm people. Loyal? Yes. Fiercely proud? Absolutely. But warm? Not a word anyone’s ever used.
I told myself this would be fine. That they’d see what I see. The way Bex lights up a room; the way she makes everything feel less heavy. But even as I think it, I knowbetter. They’re going to judge her. And they’ll do it with the same brittle smiles they gave everyone that isn’t Kelsey.
Kelsey. For fuck’s sake. They still talk like we’re on a break. Like she’s off on a sabbatical and I’m just waiting patiently for her to come home. That our separation is a glitch in a bigger plan, and finally, we will come back together and live out the rest of the fairytale everyone is so keen we have.
When my mother asked me to bring Bex over, it was all too polite. No complaints. No snide comments. Just,“Why don’t you both pop by before your trip?”
After her meltdown when I opened the conversation about having a new partner, I knew something was brewing. She flipped from devastated to calm in a beat. It wasn’t that she’d finally come to terms with me and Kelsey ending. It was that she wanted Bex and I on her territory.
I should have said no. But when it comes to my parents, I rarely can. They gave me so much, and they like to remind me.
Plus, part of me just wants to get it over with. Show them that my life has moved on and I’m with someone else, no matter what they hoped would happen. At least tomorrow, Bex and I can escape together to warm sand and sun-soaked pools. Just us. After tonight, we’ll need it. Perhaps we may not even come back. I wonder if I could transfer abroad…the thought is tempting.
“They’re going to be fine,” I say out loud, my voice echoing in the silent car.
Bex doesn’t answer, she just gives me a tight smile. I deserve that. After all this time, we’re still sneaking around like teenagers caught in the wrong bedroom. I feel pathetic. Who am I kidding? I am pathetic.
Managing other people’s expectations is exhausting; keeping toxic family members happy always comes at the sacrifice of yourself. Tonight, I’m showing my parents that my life is my own to live with who I want.
We pull up outside the bungalow. The front path looks worse than I remember. Full of broken tiles, one of them is cracked clean in half like a fault line. I park and cut the engine.
“I’m sorry we’re doing this now,” I say quietly. “Tomorrow we’ll be on a beach somewhere far away, and this will just be background noise.”
She nods, but it’s guarded.
I get out and walk around to her door as she opens it. Offering her my hand, I’m relieved when she takes it. Small victories. Thank goodness she still wants to touch me.
We step onto the pavement, and I tell myself this will go better than I expect. I lie to myself all the way to the front door. Think worst-case scenario, and we may be pleasantly surprised.
***
Bex
Caroline and Gregor Jones live in a small bungalow beside their restaurant. The restaurant is more of an American-style diner. It’s open every day, all hours of the day, serving anything cooked in grease. The house has seen better days. It’s tired, worn at the edges.
