Page 38 of Match Point

I blink at him, a snigger pulling at my lips. ‘Sorry?’

‘My garlic press,’ he repeats, glowering at me. ‘I know you’re not a cook, so maybe you need me to explain what it looks like.’

‘I think I’ll manage. Anything else?’

‘Not that I can think of.’

I leave him to make my way into the kitchen. As I start rooting through the drawers, I hear his footsteps behind me and out the corner of my eye I see him wander in and stop abruptly at the table, staring down at my sketch pad and pencils.

‘You’re drawing,’ he states.

‘Yep.’

‘I thought you’d given up.’

I close one drawer shut and open another. ‘Nope.’

He laughs lightly. ‘Okay. That’s interesting.’

Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the—

‘Why is that interesting?’ I snap, straightening.

He holds up his hands, a smirk playing across his lips. ‘Whoa, Flora, no need to get defensive. I’m pleased you’re drawing again – you’re good at it. It’s what you did when we first dated. It’s… sweet.’

‘Sweet,’ I repeat, staring at him in disbelief.

‘Yeah, that you’re giving it a go again. Yes, it’s a tough industry and, okay, so you’re a lot older than most artists trying to crack through into this market and you don’t have the experience or qualifications, but it’s sweet that you’re… trying. I’m glad our break-up has given you the time to take up your hobbies again.’

I can’t think what to say. My throat seems to have closed up completely and no words are forming. He’s watching me with an earnest smile, his poisonous words seeping under my skin, reducing me to a small, hopeless idiot.

‘Who’s this?’

Kieran’s voice pulls me back. He’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen in his shorts and hoodie, his hair wet and dishevelled from a swim. He looks from Jonah to me, his forehead furrowing in concern as he takes me in. I realise that I have unwillingly folded forwards in an unattractive hunch, winded by Jonah’s speech, my hand gripping the side of the counter as though it’s holding me up. My knuckles have turned white.

Jonah steps towards him, holding out his hand.

‘Hi, mate,’ he says breezily, ‘I’m Jonah.’

Towering over him, Kieran glances down at his outstretched hand and arches a brow dismissively, as though bemused Jonah would presume he’d shake his hand. Jonah snorts, dropping his arm to his side.

‘Okay, fine. It’s like that, is it. I guess she’s told you about me.’

‘I’ve never heard of you,’ Kieran states flatly. ‘I did overhear what you were saying as I came in, though, and I’m not one for shaking the hand of a guy who likes to bring other people down to make themselves feel bigger.’

Jonah looks confused. ‘Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but you have obviously misunderstood whatever it was you overheard.’ He chuckles, turning to me. Kieran fixes him with a cold stare. ‘Flora knows me, don’t you, Flora? She knows I wouldn’t say anything to upset her.’

‘You should go, Jonah,’ I tell him, my voice wobbling, betraying my nerves.

‘Fucking hell, what is this?’ Jonah says, cackling with laughter. ‘I just came here for my garlic press. It’s not a big deal.’ He looks Kieran up and down with a sneer. ‘You don’t need to go all macho on me, mate.’

‘She said you should go, and I’m not your mate,’ Kieran growls.

Jonah sighs breezily, but I can tell he’s unnerved. Kieran is a lot bigger than he is. His fists are clenched, his eyes are flashing with rage and his large frame takes up most of the doorway, blocking Jonah’s exit.

‘Okay, I’ve got it, whatever,’ Jonah mutters, rolling his shoulders back and lifting his chin. ‘I didn’t realise my presence bothers you, Flora. I thought we were adults and had moved on, but guess I read the room wrong. You should have said earlier if you wanted me to go. You didn’t need your bodyguard to come do the honours.’

Kieran exhales with frustration, his jaw twitching. As he flexes his fingers, I can tell that he’s trying to control his simmering anger.

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