Love You Better (11 page)

‘Better?’ He looked down at her, and her cheeks flushed.

‘Yeah. Thanks,’ she mumbled.

What was that about? Why did he stop?

‘Eff . . .’

She turned towards him, her body buzzing from the warmth of his breath. She could still feel it on her back, through her jacket and under her clothes. Everything about him seemed to be pulling her in like a magnet. She looked at him and realised how close together they were – so close that moving a few mere inches would put their lips together.

No, no, no, no. This is
Smith
.

She was confused and hung-over, but she didn’t want to kiss him. No way. And Smith was out of order for trying to make a move on her, especially when she was in such a fragile state.

‘I just wanted to apologise,’ he said.

Oh.
An apology wasn’t the best way to make a move on
someone
.

‘What for?’

There were so many things he could be apologising for. For sleeping with another girl, for not wanting to commit, for getting himself hospitalised and having to leave.

‘I should never have turned up at your wedding like that.’ He shook his head. ‘It was an immensely stupid thing to do. And what happened after Somerset House . . .’

Effie’s heart tripped in her chest as she remembered how he’d run his thumb across her cheek, grazing her lower lip. How
he’d bee
n inches away from kissing her.

‘It was way, way out of order. I shouldn’t have done it.’

‘No. You shouldn’t,’ she replied, even though every cell in her body screamed to the contrary.

‘You were right.’

‘About what?’

‘A lot of things. Keisha, especially.’

Effie shrugged and played with the Velcro on the cuff of her coat sleeve. Smith had always been reluctant to label their relationship, but she’d seen the two of them as being more than just friends with benefits. Making the assumption that he felt the same had been a huge mistake. It had led to her being heartbroken when he’d slept with someone else.

He looked back at her and ran a hand over his stubble.
‘I’m sor
ry.’

She looked down at the sand. At least he’d apologised, the
second
time in one day, surely some kind of record. But instead of feeling happy and relieved, she felt worse than she had when she’d woken up.

‘I’m glad you didn’t let me kiss you outside the cafe, because
I do
n’t want that.’

Her shoulders dropped, and she burrowed down into her jacket, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. Why was her stomach sinking with disappointment? This was what she’d wanted ever since he’d stepped out of the darkness at her wedding reception,
but sh
e wished he’d stop talking. Every word hurt in a way she knew
it sh
ouldn’t. Every syllable twisted and pulled in her chest. He didn’t want her. He might have been jealous that she’d moved on after such a short time, but he’d obviously done the same, and she’d made a big deal about his return for nothing.

‘I won’t ever really get what it is about Oliver that makes you so happy, but you say he does. And you being happy makes me happy.’ He threw her a small smile. ‘I just don’t want to fight with you anymore. I want us to be mates again.’

Thank god for the wind making her eyes water, because it meant she could let the tears spill down her face with no shame. She didn’t even know why she was crying in the first place, whether it was because what he’d said was what she’d been waiting for or because it was what she’d never wanted to hear.

‘Mates?’ He stuck his hand out.

His fingers curled around her hand, cradling it in w
armth. H
er head told her it was for the best this way, but something in
her seem
ed to need more convincing.

‘Mates.’

10.

Y
ou know there’s no need for you to work,’ Oliver said, watching Effie as she dawdled while getting ready.

If only. Outside, the ground was covered in a thin but slick film of ice as London finally succumbed to the depths of winter, and she wanted nothing more than to hibernate until spring came around.

‘You could just resign and become a little housewife.’

Effie pulled a face. ‘And do what?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he replied, rubbing her shoulders as she brushed her hair in front of the mirror. ‘Look after the kids.’

‘We don’t have any.’

‘Exactly. Babies don’t make themselves, you know.’

Effie held down a sigh. Since returning from Ireland, he’d raised the subject of having children more and more, and despite her initially agreeing to it, she’d started to feel increasingly under pressure.

‘Aren’t you going to eat your toast?’ he asked, looking down at the plate he’d brought in while she was in the shower.

‘I haven’t got time for breakfast. I’m seriously late.’

He put a hand on her shoulder and frowned. ‘You need to eat. If you hadn’t slept in, you’d have time.’ He gave her shoulders another squeeze. ‘Oh, I almost forgot.’

‘Forgot what?’ She turned as he walked over to the bedside table and shook a bottle of pills.

‘Iron tablets.’

‘What do I need those for?’

‘It’s supposed to help when you’re considering getting pregnant. And I’ve made an appointment with the bank for Saturday morning about the joint bank account.’

‘What joint bank account?’

‘The one we spoke about a few days ago, remember?’ he replied slowly, as if he were talking to a child. ‘We talked about combining our salaries into one account since it doesn’t make sense for you to worry about the bills when you earn so much less than I do. And this way, we can save for the baby.’

Effie frowned. Had she missed something? Not only were they now trying for a baby, they were saving money for it too?

‘You do remember, don’t you, Effie?’

‘I don’t know.’ She hesitated. ‘I guess so.’

‘Good.’ He laughed. ‘I was worried you were going to say you’d forgotten about it. You have the memory of a goldfish.’

She was one hundred per cent sure they hadn’t spoken about it, but why would he make it up? She thought back to what Lou had said about him being considerate. She guessed it was kind of romantic that he wanted to take care of her. Maybe her reluctance about being a kept woman was misplaced. Maybe this was what being married was about. Compromise.

‘So. Toast?’

She looked down at the plate in his hand and repeated the word in her head.
Compromise.

‘Don’t forget the iron tablets.’

He watched as she swallowed them and washed them down with the glass of water on her bedside table. She pecked him on the cheek and ran down the stairs, holding the toast in her teeth as she went. She felt like a kid, being sent off to school with a full stomach. If this was what he was like now, how would he be when she actually got pregnant? She wouldn’t put it past him to come home tonight armed with a bookshop’s worth of pregnancy books.

She walked to the Tube station, her feet occasionally sliding in the layer of slush being washed away by the rain. When had she become so ungrateful? Why was she complaining about her
husband
taking care of her? What was so wrong with her that she had to question these things? Maybe it was because she didn’t
have a barometer
for what a normal, healthy relationship looked like. She could hardly use her mum as a role model, but when she thought about the guys Penny had been with over the years, she could see that they were nothing like Oliver. She never had to ask for anything with him, and he treated her so much better than the random men had ever treated her mum. Him being so keen on them having a baby probably wasn’t something she should be
worrying
about. Besides, they’d have to have kids sometime.

Just not yet.

She pushed the thought away, and as the Tube carried her to work, she tried to imagine a life with children. A boy and a girl, maybe, with names like Tilly and Alfie. They’d have holidays by the beach, and she and Oliver would watch them play in the sand for the first time. The scenes played out in her head in full Technicolor glory, but they left her feeling empty. Having kids was huge, and despite Oliver being nothing but perfect, she still wasn’t sure that she was ready to take that next step.

‘No. Freaking. Way,’ Nikki said, looking down at her mobile.

‘What?’ Effie looked away from her screen and rubbed her eyes. She hated spreadsheets with a passion.

‘Look who’s on Tinder.’ Nikki handed her the phone, and Effie looked down at the screen.

Her stomach lurched as she looked at a picture of Smith,
leaning
against a wall, wearing a vest, with his hands stuffed into his jeans. She knew exactly when it had been taken. She thought back to that day, when the air had been filled with blending bass lines and the smell of barbecued food as Ladbroke Grove throbbed with the pulse of the Notting Hill Carnival. She’d taken the picture, and he’d used it as his Facebook profile picture ever since. It was that night, after the carnival, that they’d got together, and now he was using the picture she’d loved to pull girls on bloody Tinder. She handed the phone back to Nikki.

‘ “Smith, twenty-five”,’ Nikki read from his profile. ‘ “Six feet tall, tattooed. Swipe right and say hello”.’

‘Did you hear back about the contract for Peter Oriel yet?’ Effie asked, ignoring Nikki. She had work to do.

‘ “Interests: Arcade Fire, I Fucking Love Science and
Top Gear
”,’ Nikki continued.

Effie clicked on her mouse and squinted at her screen. ‘This formula isn’t working.’

‘What should I do? Should I tell him?’

Effie deleted the formula in the cell and tried again.

‘Hello? Earth to Effie?’

‘Hmm?’ she replied without taking her eyes from the screen.

‘Smith. Tinder. What should I do?’

‘I don’t know.’ Effie shrugged. ‘Why are you on there anyway? You’re still seeing Jake.’

‘He knows about it. It’s research for my blog.’

Nikki hosted a blog about London life, but from what Effie could gather, it wasn’t particularly big, with a following of about twenty people.

‘Should I swipe right to like him and see what happens? It could be a laugh, and I bet it’d freak him out.’

No, you bloody well shouldn’t.

‘I thought people only used Tinder for hooking up?’

‘Yeah, some do. Some of the profile photos I’ve seen are ridiculous. One guy even used a picture of his boner.’

‘Nice.’ Effie grimaced.

‘You wouldn’t believe some of the messages I’ve got since I joined. The best opening line I’ve had so far said, “Show me your tits”.’

‘How old were they? Twelve?’

‘Obviously, I didn’t reply. Jake and I spend most nights laughing at them.’

‘Doesn’t he care that you’re using a dating app?’

Nikki shook her head. ‘Not at all. We trust each other completely, and he’s doing it too, to give me the male perspective.’

Effie raised her eyebrows. ‘Each to their own, I guess.’

‘So, what do we think? Should I swipe right or left?’

Effie stopped and swallowed against the irrational jealousy pulling at her. Nikki was in a relationship, and this was all for research, but what if Smith thought differently?

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Nikki said, even though Effie hadn’t said anything. ‘He wouldn’t know I’ve liked him unless he likes me too, but what if he did swipe right? I don’t want things to get awkward.’

‘Yeah.’ Effie nodded with relief. ‘It’s probably best not to.’

‘I’ll bet he’s racking them up anyway. It’s a hot photo.’

Effie looked down at her keyboard as she typed. It
was
a good photo, but she was the one who’d seen it live. She remembered the way he’d held her hand the whole day to make sure they weren’t separated in the crowd, and how he’d danced right behind her, his hands on her hips. She’d spent most of the day hoping he’d try to kiss her again, telling herself that she wouldn’t turn him down
like she
always had done before. And when he finally did, she’d sworn she’d never kiss anyone else again. She looked at her wedding ring as her fingers hit the keyboard.

Smith might have made her body flutter back in Ireland, but it was understandable, really. She’d been hung-over and cold. It was a purely biological response, and regardless, they’d made a pact. She was married – happily married – and Smith and she were just
mates
.

A few days later, Effie woke up to see Oliver sitting next to her. She pulled herself up on her elbow, and he handed her a Valentine’s
card
.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.’ He kissed her softly on the lips and smiled. ‘I haven’t had time to get your present yet.’

‘Thank you. And it’s fine – you really don’t have to get me
anything
,’ she replied. He already showered her with gifts; having one just for Valentine’s Day wasn’t such a huge deal. She opened the card and read the simple message
I love you
in Oliver’s sloped handwriting. ‘Here’s yours.’

She reached into her bedside drawer and gave him his card and a small box. He opened it and looked at the cufflinks inside. He picked one up and held it between his finger and thumb, and Effie held her breath. She’d spent ages in Selfridges, trying to find something he’d like. His cufflink collection was huge, and she didn’t want to get him a pair he’d hate.

‘They’re really nice,’ he said, and Effie smiled with relief. ‘I’ll wear them today. First, though, it’s time for breakfast.’

He kissed her forehead and disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a tray of pancakes, orange juice and, as had become standard, two iron tablets.

‘Breakfast fit for a queen.’ He handed her the glass of juice before dropping the tablets into her open hand.

At the very least, they were good for her health. Oliver dressed as she ate her breakfast, and when she’d finished, she leaned over and picked up the strip of foil containing her contraceptive pill.

‘You know,’ Oliver said, looking at her through the mirror,
‘I was
thinking. We’re never going to get anywhere unless you
stop takin
g your pill.’

Effie looked at the pale blue tablet in her hand and frowned. ‘But I thought we weren’t really trying yet. Not properly.’

‘No, but I think we should. We’re just wasting time, and it’ll probably take ages for anything to happen anyway.’

What if it didn’t? What if she stopped taking it and got
pregnant
straight away? Was she really ready to give up her life for a baby? She looked at the pill again, knowing that the answer to her question was a resounding
no
.

She looked up at his reflection as he stared back at her, knotting his tie, remembering what he’d said on New Year’s Eve. He’d been so sincere, and she’d seen how much he really wanted it. What was holding her back?

‘Can we talk about it once this pack’s finished?’ she asked. It was a fair compromise and neither a yes nor a no. At the very least it would buy her some time.

Oliver looked away and shrugged. ‘Okay. Whatever you want.’

She heard the disappointment in his voice and watched as he took off the cufflinks she’d bought him, replacing them with an older pair. Maybe the old pair matched his suit better, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a show of
throwing
the gift back in her face. It was so out of character that she didn’t know whether she was imagining it and whether the hurt was
warranted
or not.

‘So, I’ve reserved the table for eight,’ she said. She was being silly; of course he wasn’t throwing it back at her. He wasn’t like that. He leaned forward and looked in the mirror, preening his
hair. ‘Oll
y?’

‘What?’ he replied without looking at her.