Page 85 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

My mind is so scrambled thinking about those two words that it takes me a minute to realise I asked him to wait. I lick my lips. Try and compose myself. Filling up my life again means dealing with life again. It’s spring, right? That time of new beginnings. I don’t want this to be the only thing the call was about. I promised myself I’d give more of myself to things. To do that authentically I have to be braver. ‘Um, so there was something else I wanted to run past you when I saw you tonight?’

‘Sure, what was that?’

‘So, you know I do the volunteer reading at the hospital? Well, there’s this read-a-thon?—’

‘Ash, that’s not really me, reading to a bunch of kids. I mean, I’m happy to do something else.’

‘No. That’s okay. I mean, it’s good you’re happy to do something else because after the read-a-thon…’ I squeeze my eyes shut. Clutch the phone tighter. ‘There’s this party after. Lots of music. Dancing. Drinking. We could even stay over?’

‘Sounds good.’

My big left toe starts tingling again. ‘It’s a wedding,’ I admit and imagine Sarah looking down on me from Upstairs, running around on some sort of cloud, wings flapping in excited congratulations. ‘It’s the sister of my friend. It’s – she’s – well, I have this plus one invite and it would really be good fun.’

‘Okay.’

‘Okay? You’ll come?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I—but that’s great. Really great. Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to ask you.’

‘What, am I an ogre? You should have asked me. If I didn’t want to do it, I’d have said no.’

I grin. Not an ogre but a rare find. An uncomplicated person. ‘Hey, Zach?’ I whisper, half hoping he’ll tell me to come over later. After I finish being a friendly ear to George. ‘I really am sorry about tonight.’

‘Emergencies happen. Hope George is okay. I’ll get back to you with a date, okay?’

‘Sure. Okay.’ And then I’m listening to nothing but the sound of my big left toe squeaking that I didn’t tell him about the fact that the Read-a-Thon and Wedding is on a Saturday.

* * *

The night sky has an overlay of dull yellow light from all the buildings by the time I realise I haven’t heard any sound coming from George’s bedroom for a while. Should I check on him? Damn the efficient soundproofing in these apartments. I didn’t even hear the shower go on and off. Surely if he’d crashed to the floor, I would have heard?

I pace over to George’s bedroom door. I could knock and inform him it only took me twenty-five minutes to work out the answer to the sixteen-letter clue and that there’s no way I’m giving permission to name the Ficus that.

I lean forward and press my ear to the door.

Nothing.

I raise my hand and knock.

Nothing.

Steeling myself, I turn the handle and open the door.

George is sitting on the floor, his back against the bed.

He looks lost.

Lost in thought, I think.

His hair is still a little wet from a shower.

He looks gorgeous in touchable-soft grey jogging top and bottoms – miserable, I mean. He looks utterly miserable.

It’s all finally caught up with him, hasn’t it?

‘Hey, you want to forgo food and have a sleep?’ I ask as I walk over and, picking a pillow up from his bed, hold it out for him to put behind his back. ‘You don’t even have to move off of the floor.’

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