Page 65 of Sleep

“This is no good for either of us, so I’m going to pull up my big-boy pants and let you go. Because you’re absolutely doing the right thing here, however much it feels like a kick in the balls.”

“Good.” I nodded, still wringing my hands.

“There’s an opening for a catering manager at the Reading hotel. I already put in a word for you. Or the Thameside needs a bartender if you want to have something to tide you over. They’d have you back in an instant.”

“Noted.” I was a little shocked at his…most agreeable manner. The way he sat there, properly paying attention to me. “I appreciate your help, but I’m not going back into the restaurant trade. I’m ripping that plaster off for good and taking some time to regroup. New challenges.” Bullshitting my way out of this like a pro.

“You have a boyfriend,” he stated. Well, I suppose Finn had gossiped again.

“I have a partner. And I’m going to build a new life, finally make use of who I am and…” It had sounded better in my head. “Truthfully, I have no idea what I’m going to do, but it is what it is. I’ll figure something out.”

“That doesn’t sound like you. You always have a plan. And a backup plan. And people to hold on to the rest of your meticulous weekly plans. I know you.”

“You do. And this is me trying something new.”

“New…looks good on you.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know how to do this. Without you.”

Predictably back to his old tricks. But for once, it felt good to have him back the way he was supposed to be. The idiot.

“You do. You know how to run this place in your sleep. You have Tabitha, who will step into my shoes without even blinking. She’s already out there giving people grief. She’s got your back.”

“Milliee resigned. I have three new waiters starting for the lunch shift. I’m shitting myself, and Tabitha is ready to kill me.”

“She won’t. That’s my job. And don’t you forget, I’m pretty good with a carafe.”

We laughed. I liked that we did. This had been easier than I’d imagined, so I stood up, ready to leave before one of us lost it. I could feel it in the air. All these polite phases were just smoothing over what was underneath. I was still too angry. He was still too up himself.

“Hug?” he asked, holding out his arms.

“I’m going to make you a promise,” I said, stepping to the side. “I’m going to come back in a few weeks when I’m not so angry anymore. Right now, I might hug you and accidentally strangle your sorry arse.”

“That sounds…good.” He didn’t look…good.

“It’s the right thing to do, and you know it. Let me go, Mark. And look after Finny for me. Promise you will. Because I won’t be here to rescue either of you when the two of you go tits up.”

“We’re not going to go…tits up,” he muttered. But it was there, a small smile.

“You’re not,” I agreed. “Because you’re going to bloody man up and make him happy. I couldn’t, but you can, Mark. I know you can.”

Then I walked out. And I wasn’t sure if I would smile or burst into tears.

23. Jonathan

Some days, I wished I had my office team back—days like this when meetings just rolled one into the next, I had too many notes on the table and not enough spoons to deal with everything being thrown my way.

I couldn’t even offload on Jenny, because she was knee-deep in dealing with council officials on my behalf and untangling a site accident claim with some lowlife insurance official who looked like he should still have been in nappies and had the literacy of a preschooler.

I’d had enough, yet I soldiered on. The more work I got done and the busier I kept myself, the less time I had to sit and gaze into space, worrying whether I’d get any sleep tonight and pining for my Mabel.

We’d had sex last night, and I should have been preening, showing off this new me—the man who had fulfilling sexual encounters with other human beings.

Did it show on my face?

Had it been good for them? Fulfilling? Or was I being delusional again?

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