Page 62 of Textbook Romance

‘But it’s Liz, they know Liz,’ he says, trying to defend himself.

‘Brian, they knew Liz as a family friend. My friend. Someone who used to sit in our living room and drink wine. To them, she has a whole different persona now. It was far too soon to even attempt to do that, to present them with some different dynamic, one which basically replaced me.’

He looks down at his coffee to take that all in. I can’t believe how coherent I am. ‘It’s not like that. No one will replace you as their mother. They adore you.’

I won’t argue that, but I adore them just as much, and I remember a time when Brian did, too. When he put their needs above his own. It was perhaps that shift in him that broke my heart the most.

‘I don’t know how to repair any of this, Zoe. I really don’t. Even before Liz arrived yesterday morning, everything’s changed. The way they talk to me, Lottie’s sarcasm, the way Dylan’s body stiffens when I try to hug him,’ he says, a lump in his throat.

‘You didn’t just betray me, Brian. You betrayed them, too.’ He can barely look at me. ‘I don’t want them to hate you. I never want that, but it will take time for them to trust you again. You made a decision to break this, and I don’t think it’s a quick fix.’

He looks uncomfortable to have to be told that much but then his judgement can hardly be trusted these days.

‘Phase Liz in if you must but I think it will take even longer for them to accept her.’

‘Have you completely poisoned them against her?’

‘Fuck off, Brian.’

He flinches in shock to hear me swear because I rarely do. I take a sip at my tea to hide my shock that I’ve done that myself.

‘How is she?’ I ask, almost too casually.

‘She’s also having trouble with her kids. Eldest won’t talk to her. Her youngest has started truanting from school.’

It’s almost as if he’s asking for sympathy. I hope he doesn’t mind if I have none to share.

‘Well, I hope the sex is worth all of that,’ I say, again shocked at my ability to be so acerbic about it all.

His back straightens for a moment. ‘It’s not just sex, Zoe. I love her. I love Liz.’

And he comes right back at me with some very sharp barbs indeed. My face goes numb to hear it. And not because he stopped loving me or because that feeling of love moved to someone else but because I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. I don’t know if that is love. To hurt all those people in the wake, to irrevocably ruin all those kids and their perceptions of family, their parents, to act so completely and utterly selfishly. That seems to me to be the very opposite of love.

Brian tries to reach over to hold my hand and I pull a face, retracting my hand as far from him as possible. ‘That was cruel. I’m sorry,’ he says, appearing contrite at least.

I laugh under my breath. I’ve heard that word so many times that it’s started to lose its impact. The utility room door suddenly opens, and Kate stands there holding a basket of folded towels. Brian does a double take to see her standing there, knowing she would have overheard most of our conversation.

‘Kate?’

‘Brian.’

The last time these two met, it was on our driveway. She had just keyed his delivery rental van and he’d come back to confront her and she said he was lucky that she didn’t key his balls. My neighbours heard that and I think we all winced thinking about what that would entail. She now holds on to some very new, important information about my love life and she really, really needs to shut her face about it.

Kate gives Brian a look and then shifts her gaze on to me. ‘What fabric softener do you use? Your towels smell gorgeous.’

‘It’s Lenor,’ I tell her. ‘It’s a limited-edition jasmine range.’

Brian sits there awkwardly, waiting for Kate to pounce.

‘I guess I should thank you for driving the kids back yesterday. I appreciate you were there to…’

‘…pick up the pieces of your piss-poor parenting?’ she replies. I suppress a smile at the glorious alliteration in her reply.

‘Be there for them,’ he mumbles in reply.

‘Well, I bloody love those kids like they’re my own so, of course…’ she tells him, plainly.

‘And the people who picked Dylan up from Manchester? Are they friends of yours? That bit confused me. Who’s Jack?’

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