Page 91 of I Love You, I Love You, I Love You

‘My mum and dad would drink in the pub there and we’d play on these. Really sweet of the carpenter to let us.’

‘They’re probably even better once they’ve been played with, helps wear the wood down.’ Lowe rocks one with his hands, as if testing it out. ‘If I had kids, I would buy them these for the garden.’

I wonder if he’s thinking about his mum.

‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘Me too.’

‘Imagine how many times we probably crossed paths when we were little … ’ he says. ‘It’s almost like we were meant to meet.’

‘I was LITERALLY just thinking that!’ I HAVE to STOP saying LITERALLY!

The path widens and we head back onto the river where it’s slightly quieter. Primary-colour bunting hangs like fruit from the trees overhead. The smell of popcorn. A child catches droplets of trickling ice cream from its cone like a tap.

We find a quiet bar, upcycled from a converted airstream, lightbulbs like tomatoes on a vine, two young bar staff chilling on their phones.

‘Beer?’ I ask.

‘Why not?’ He seems to listen out for the something elseness that’s hovering around us.

We play sword fight with our cards. ‘MY round!’ I say, pinning his card to the bar.

We sit opposite each other, sipping our beers, smiling our faces off. And here it comes … I have such a strong urge to ask him.

Go on, Ella.

Ella! Stop! You’ve been there, done that and bought every damn season at the whole damn shop for an embarrassingly long time now. Let it go.

I try to ignore it as the question circles around my head once again. Pecking at the squashy bits of my brain. Ask him. Now is your chance. I sip my beer to stop the words that are filling my mouth, rising up, pressing the back of my teeth: ask him. But first, ‘What’s going on with you and Heather now then?’

He sighs deeply and scratches the back of his neck. ‘She’s living in New Zealand.’ He puts his hands out like what more can I say? When there’s obviously a lot more to say.

I can’t even look him in the eyes right now; it’s too intense. My heart is howling.

‘Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for a while but I was away on tour so much – life moved so fast; it’s either all a blur or you slip into habits. I know it might sound strange to someone who doesn’t live like that but you don’t get the chance to address the problems and ignoring them just makes them bigger and bigger until they implode.’

I don’t speak so he continues.

‘I don’t think living away from home, her family being on the other side of the world, helped. It was isolating for her and a lot of pressure for me. I guess I felt like I had to make it perfect for her all the time to make up for them not being around. And well … New Zealand’s far.’ He sips his beer. ‘But selling a house in different time zones is NOT easy.’

‘I’m really sorry, Lowe. You guys were together a long time.’

I put my hand out across the table to comfort him how a friend might.

He takes my hand, nicely, not cornily, and with a cheeky flirt, says, ‘So where’s your ring then?’

I nearly spit out my drink.

‘Oh, that old thing,’ I wheeze; he’s caught me off-guard but there’s nowhere to hide now. ‘It didn’t work out.’

‘That’s good,’ he lets slip. His eyes widen. ‘No, not like that, like good you’re OK about it. I mean, are you OK about it?’

‘Jackson was a really lovely person; we took good care of each other but it wasn’t right.’ He nods at this. ‘Maybe you need your twenties to find out what is?’ I fan myself. ‘So, you’re not the only one living back at home like you’re fourteen again!’

We laugh. Hold. On. Does this mean we’re both single at the same time? As adults? There really isn’t anything stopping us now. The prospect makes my belly do science – fizzing and foaming and frothing like Mentos in Coke. The sun slinks into the river.

Lowe plays with his bottle, tapping mine. ‘Do you want another one?’

‘Do you?’ I ask cheekily, taking the hint.

---