Page 56 of That One Moment

Jamie watches me expectantly, stirring the contents of his bowl.

“Smells good,” I say, then blow on the spoon. It smells strongly of oregano, and when the first mouthful hits my tongue, there is an overpowering taste of garlic but the carrots are soft, it's perfectly salted and there is a hint of coriander.

“It’s actually really good,” I say, dipping my toast in and taking a bite before eating another spoonful.

“Actually? You doubted my skills?”

I smile around the spoon in my mouth. “You didn’t?”

Jamie laughs then digs into his meal, and we sit like that for the rest of the night. Eating chunky, garlicky soup and enjoying each other’s quiet company.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Caiden

Three days after Jamie woke up in the middle of the night to cook me soup, he’s still in my flat. He told me he took more time off work and so did I. We spent the three days talking about nothing of consequence yet every word felt important. There hasn’t been a time where we’ve talked to each other as much as we have recently. Besides talking, we’ve passed the time watching television, taking walks along the river, and eating at the pub. At night, Jamie crawls into bed next to me and keeps to his side - only the occasional brush of a hand between us.

I’m on the sofa, laptop resting on my knees when Jamie walks out of the bedroom, dressed in his running gear.

“Do you have to work today?” he asks.

“No. I'll be back in tomorrow. I actually have a therapy session later today.”

“That was really quick! I thought the doctor at the hospital said there was a waiting list for it?”

Moving the laptop to the coffee table, I stand and adjust the sleeves on my hoodie before walking past him and into the kitchen. “My company has a private health care package for their employees. I phoned around after talking to my GP and managed to find someone with an opening today. I’ve put off talking to someone about this for so long, I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

“What about you?” Taking out two glasses, I pour us both a glass of orange juice. Jamie puts bread in the toaster then feeds Ford, and we move around my kitchen, perfectly in sync. I like it more than I should.

“I have a few more days off.” He strokes Ford's back, and I bite back the urge to ask him what his plans are. I don't want to know exactly when he's leaving, even if I know it's coming. His life isn’t here. His job, his girlfriend, his friends - they’re not in Kingston, they’re back in our home town.

“I'm going to get ready,” I tell Jamie, making a swift exit. In the bathroom, I study myself in the mirror. My black hair is long and messy and my eyes have deep circles under them. My fingers tap restlessly on the countertop, my upcoming therapy session playing on my mind.

It’s only an introductory one today, but I’m apprehensive nonetheless. The last therapist I saw was in the days before Cooper died. I’d liked her and felt that the tools she’d enabled me with, along with the prescribed antidepressants, were helping. I’m afraid now that this new therapist won’t understand me in the same way or blame me for not getting help these past three years. But mostly, I’m scared that she won’t be able to help me. This darkness has been trying to pull me under since long before Cooper died. His dying only made it worse. It's become so much a part of me, what if it's too entwined to be removed?

I take my time getting ready, and when I’m done in the bathroom, Jamie is sitting on my bed, fiddling with his phone,his eyebrows pulled together as he reads something on the screen. When he senses me in front of him, he looks up, his eyes sliding over my naked chest then trailing down to where I have a towel wrapped around my waist before moving back up to my face.

“How are you feeling about today?” he asks, shifting on the bed and resting his hands on his lap, his phone face down on the sheets next to him.

“Nervous. Worried. Scared.” I dip my head, heat flushing on my cheeks at how weak that makes me sound.

Jamie stands and moves in front of me. “Hey.” He places a hand on my chin, tipping my face towards him. “It’s normal to feel that way. You can take it as slow as you need to. Remember the doctor only wants to help you.”

I nod, his hand still on my chin. “What if she can’t help me? What if I always have these times where I feel like I’m drowning and nothing helps except….” I can't bring myself to say the words, to admit the truth of how I've coped for all these years, out loud, to him.

“Is that how you feel?” Jamie asks and I nod again, looking over his shoulder. “Is that why you hurt yourself?”

My eyes snap to him and I want to turn away when I mumble a quiet ‘yes’ but he’s looking at me too intently and he's holding me right where he wants me, so I can't hide. There’s no judgement or pity in his eyes but the tenderness I see there instead does something to my heart that has me wishing he’d always look at me this way.

“You tell her that. And if she can’t help you, we’ll find someone who can.”

We.

I wonder if he’s aware that he said that.We’llfind someone. Not me, not the doctors. We. The two of us. Jamie and Caiden.

“Okay,” I say, and the responding tip of his lips has me smiling back at him.

“Okay,” he repeats my words and brushes a kiss to the side of my jaw. “Now go, don’t be late.”

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