Page 15 of When We Were Young

CHAPTER NINE

Emma

“Ineed to show yousomething,” Oscar says. “Wait here.”

Before I can even say anything, he leaves the room and I hear him bounding up the stairs, most likely two at a time. He always ascended stairs like that at university, at my building, at his. The memory makes me smile, but I catch myself. What am I doing?

Nothing good can come from this.

I should leave.

I pull my jumper on and head to the front door. Just as I get there, I hear his voice from upstairs.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You go back to sleep.”

Go back to sleep?

My heart hammers against my chest. Someone’s up there? But Celine left him. That’s what he said... Unless she didn’t? Unless she’s still with him? In this house...right now?

A strange feeling takes over me, and I find myself on the stairs. I know why I need to look, need to see—because knowing Celine’s still here will mean I get my answer. That I will know for certain that what we had is over.

It’ll mean I can move on.

And I need to. My heart aches.

I climb the stairs, my chest jittery. Nausea washes over me.

There are three doors on the landing. Only one of them is open, and Oscar’s murmurings are coming from that room, so I head in there. I get ready to see Celine—maybe she’s ill, in bed and he thought I never needed to know and—

Oscar turns to me, his arms cradling something close to his chest.

“A kitten?” I stare at Oscar and the fluffy bundle in his arms. “Oh my goodness.”

He nods, eyes wide. “Six of them.” He jerks his head to the right, and I see, on the bed there’s a huge tabby cat and five more kittens. “Took her in only a couple months ago and never expected to become a father.” He chuckles. “It’s stressful.”

But he’s smiling.

“Sorry, I’ll just be a moment,” he says.

“It’s okay.” I watch him as he talks to the kitten, smiling, before he puts the baby back with its siblings and mother. And he’s gentle—so gentle. My chest lightens, and I feel mesmerized.

“Okay.” He walks to the side of the room, where there’s a wardrobe. “Sorry about that,” he says as he opens the drawer at the bottom. “That’s Nicky, that one. He always wakes up and wants attention the moment I’m in here. Anyway, this is what I want to show you.”

He pulls out a book. A photo album. Another one?

I stare at him. My head spins. He hadtwocopies of the album of his parents? He didn’t need me to bring this one over?

He hands it to me, and I take it.

“Open it.”

I frown a little, then sit at the end of the bed. The mother cat watches me with a little curiosity and a little suspicion.

I open the album. The first page—it’s us. Me and Oscar. A photo from some party. I peer at it closer, can’t even remember it. But we went to a lot of parties.

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