Page 97 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

It’s Ashleigh.

She’s dressed in her fluorescent white Sparkle uniform as if, were she in normal clothes, I might not recognise her.

Her shiny brown hair is pulled back into its dancing ponytail.

Her huge brown eyes are sympathetic as they burn into my soul.

For some reason my heart does a little flip-flop – must be the reminder of the panic she saved me from.

‘Hello George,’ she says simply. ‘You doing okay?’

‘Are you going to be following me around forever now, checking on me?’ I should never have told her about my heart. Definitely shouldn’t have texted her at the weekend.

Despite the quickly masked hurt in her eyes, she doesn’t wait for me to tell her that I’m doing okay. Instead, she brushes past me, bringing a couple of bags in with her, which she puts down on my kitchen countertop.

‘What’s all this?’ I say, pointing to the bags. The quicker she tells me, the quicker I can say “Thanks, but no thanks” and be left on my own.

‘I brought you some food. Home-cooked.’

I snort. ‘Home-cooked from a deli.’ I can’t believe I sound so rude but it’s as if now this has happened to me, maybe I’ll be rude for life. Interesting. Probably get left alone if I was rude all the time so not a total disappointment then.

‘No, George,’ she says lightly. ‘Home-cooked as in slaving away at my miniscule kitchen stove like someone from out of the fifties.’

The aromas from the bags take some of my surly, snarky rudeness as I find myself taking a step closer. ‘You cooked?’

‘Cooking is budget-friendly.’

‘Right. How much do I owe you?’

She pauses in setting out a container. ‘Don’t insult me, George.’

I feel bad. Not sure I’m that good at this being very rude thing. ‘But you looking after me like this… It’s… It’s…’

‘What? What is it?’ She finds a ladle in my utensil drawer and then looks up at me and I find myself feeling even worse because she looks suddenly worried. ‘Is it overstepping? Sappy?’

I shake my head. ‘You, using your personal time like this when I know you don’t get much of it. Please, allow me to pay for the groceries.’

She looks relieved as she decants some of the container into a bowl that I didn’t even know I had, places it in the microwave and hits ‘Start’. ‘You really want to compensate me?’

‘Yes.’

When the microwave dings, she takes the bowl out. ‘Then have some of this soup and tell me how you’re feeling.’

I sit down on a breakfast bar stool and drag the bowl of soup towards me. ‘First, I guess, numb. Now, after being offered a really sweet deal to quietly make this whole episode go away, instead of feeling relieved, I guess I’m feeling … affronted. Insulted. Humiliated.’

‘Wow.’

‘Yeah, and, also,’ I tip my head to the side so that the new word can roll out into my consciousness… Oh yeah … here it comes now. ‘I’m feeling guilty.’

‘That’s normal, I guess. You acted out of character and you can’t understand why. It’ll take a little time.’

‘This soup is really good,’ I say and like that she looks pleased. ‘No. I mean, yes. I feel guilty for that. But today … earlier … Anya bought me this insanely expensive watch for getting that promotion and I handed it back to her in front of everyone. I may have added that I wasn’t sentimental about it – about us.’

‘You were hurt.’

‘I was cruel. I… That’s not me. Just so you know.’

‘Again, you were hurt – are hurt.’

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