Page 60 of Heart Match

Despite her age and the fact that she spends most of her time at home, Mrs. Thompson always looks impeccable. Her grey hair is neatly combed and tied in a perfect bun, and her strong perfume penetrates my nostrils as soon as she opens the door. She doesn’t smell like old people, she smells heavenly.

‘There was a young man knocking on your door. He was waiting for you until half an hour ago,’ she says.

I don’t know what to say to that, I’m not in the mood for small talk. I’m not in the mood to talk at all. My voice is still hoarse from screaming at the tree.

‘We talked for a while. He sounds like a gentleman, and way too French.’

I’m glad she can’t see me rolling my eyes.

‘He said he had a long day. He sounded exhausted. Did you know he’s a tennis player?’

Great, even Mrs. Thompson who can only see shadows knows who Luc is. Ok, that was mean.

‘Did he tell you that?’

And why am I interested to know that again?

‘He just told me his name. I recognised it from the TV,’ she says with a happy grin on her face.

I sigh.

‘I even asked for an autograph. If my Paul were still alive he’d have loved to have an autograph of a famous tennis player,’ she says beaming. ‘Anyways, he seemed worried, and I’d say even a bit sad.’

I bet.

‘Right,’ I say.

‘Didn’t know you had a famous boyfriend, love,’ she says, fishing for some gossip.

‘I don’t. He’s not—’ I begin but don’t finish. I don’t have the energy. I’m just not up for explaining something I don’t even understand myself.

‘Well, that’s too bad. He seems like the kind of man every woman would want,’ she says and winks at where she believes my face is.

Exactly.

‘I’m tired Mrs. Thompson. I should get going. Can I help you with your walker?’

‘No, I’m fine, thank you, love.’

I hold the door for her anyway.

‘Have a good night,’ I say.

‘You too,’ she says, slowly closing the door behind her.

I go straight to the bathroom, and after leaving my wet clothes on the sink, I shower silently, listening to the drops of water falling on the bathroom floor.

I put on my favourite grey pyjama set of tank top and shorts and hide myself under the duvet. Luc’s scent has adhered to the side of the bed he has been sleeping on. Great. The T-shirts he left behind are neatly folded on one corner of the bed. I kick them to the floor as an act of vengeance. I’m glad I don’t think much more until I black out.

Chapter Eighteen

The muffled sound of my alarm is coming from somewhere. It feels like a dream. It keeps ringing and ringing. I open my eyes and look at my watch, which isn’t on my wrist. I fumble around the bed trying to find my phone, but remember I left it on the couch last night. This forces me to get up.

I find my phone under one of the cushions, and I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing. There are over sixty missed calls from different people, even more messages. From Mum, Dad, Nate, Lexi, Naomi, and … Luc. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and think that eventually I’ll have to face the world, but not now, because my phone’s battery just died and someone’s knocking at the door.

I don’t bother checking myself in the mirror on the way to the door, as soon as I open it my heart stops pumping for an excruciating minute.

‘I’m sorry.’

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