Page 128 of The Spark

‘I think he would. He talks about you a lot, in therapy,’ Ed says.

My heart lifts. He does?

Juliet elbows him. ‘That’s supposed to be confidential.’

Ed raises his hands. ‘Fine, sorry, I know. But... well. It’s true.’

Juliet leans forward. ‘I’m sure Ash would love to see you, Neve.’

‘Is he...? I mean, I heard he’s seeing someone. And the last thing I want is to get in the way of anything. Genuinely.’

This I mean with my whole heart. If Ash is happy now with someone else, I know I have no right to re-enter his life and demand to be in it. I had my chance, and I messed it up. Sometimes, you simply don’t get a second shot.

Juliet evades the question by offering me tea, and then Ed changes the subject, asking me about work. Perhaps they don’t feel it’s their place to discuss it, which I understand.

I want so badly to know the truth about Ash’s life right now, but at the same time... I don’t. There’s a part of me that’s happy to remain ignorant for a while longer at least, to convince myself I might still be able to make things right.

It’s as I’m leaving that Juliet looks me in the eye and says, ‘Neve. I probably shouldn’t be saying this, because it’s really not my place to, but... all those qualities of your ex-boyfriend that you admired so much... the things you loved about him that you saw in Ash...’

‘Yes,’ I say, tentatively, because she doesn’t know, of course, who Jamie really was.

‘Well, maybe you fell in love with your ex so you could one day recognise him again in Ash. What I mean is, maybe it was meant to be Ash all along.’

My eyes fill with tears.

Maybe it was never meant to be Jamie.

The idea sprouts wings inside me.

‘Yes. Maybe. Maybe you’re right.’

Chapter 54.

It takes me a few days to muster up the courage to get in touch. Should I call him? Message? Send an email?

In the end, I opt to sit quietly on my sofa and ask Lara what she thinks I should do.

Doorstep him, she’d have said, without missing a beat. It’s the only way you’ll get an authentic reaction.

I decide she’s right. Anyway, I’m reluctant to leave a trail of messages on his phone, in case this thing with Lexie is serious.

I get to his apartment at around eight o’clock on a Wednesday night. Midweek, I thought, I’ll be more likely to catch him at home. But when I press the buzzer, there’s no reply. I decide to wait for a bit, because I really can’t bear to do this over the phone.

I sit down on the concrete step at the front of his building and watch people come and go. None of them are Ash. Traffic thrums from the road beyond the car park.

As the minutes pass, I start to think that maybe it was ill-thought-out to turn up without messaging first. Six months with no contact, and I just show up one night and expect him to be waiting for me?

And what if he suddenly arrives with Lexie? How could I be willing to put him in that position? How could I do it to myself?

I get to my feet, sling my bag over my shoulder and prepare to make my way home. I’ll email him instead, I decide. That way, he can choose whether he wants to see me, and can let me down gently if he doesn’t.

But just as I am starting to walk off, a cab pulls up.

I feel my pulse in my throat as I watch him climb out from the back of it.

He is alone.

The cab turns around, and he is almost at the front door when he sees me.

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