Page 13 of Unless It's You
Anger wells up inside me. I’d made excuses for Mum my whole life. I’d enabled her by sending money even though she always treated me like rubbish. I’d tried to connect with her. But failed. Again and again. Sometimes talking to Mum’s best friend helps. Sometimes it makes things worse, becauseshefigured it out. She was a good mum to Helen.
Suzanne scoots closer to me and grabs a hand. “I know your mum hurt you... I know other people have as well...” Suzanne’s eyes dart to the hallway where Helen disappeared. “But sometimes people do change. And sometimes it’s worth it to take a chance, even when you’ve been hurt.”
I don’t even know what to say. Mum never changed, not in my whole life, but Helen might have. She pops back into the room, a bottle of beer in each hand.
“Hey,” she says, her eyes locked on mine.
“I’m going to clean up the kitchen.” Suzanne leaves me alone with Helen, with a meaningful nod to her daughter.
Helen slips next to me on the couch and tucks one leg beneath her, handing me a bottle. “I think I got Henry to go down for the night.”
Just over a year and a half ago, I came up to Borinwick andimpulsively texted Helen. It was before I met Stella. Before that night. Helen and I met up for drinks, and after a handful of pints, ended up kissing. It was only at the end of the night she admitted she had a baby at home, so couldn’t invite me back to hers.
I’ve never, not once in my life, thought of myself as a father figure. There are just too many ways to mess that up, and I’m not interested in figuring it out. I realized—after the night with Stella—that Helen’s situation was too complicated for me. I told her I just wanted to be friends. We stayed in touch. But the last few times I’ve been up here—since Mum died—I sense that she wants more again.
It feels good to be wanted, especially by someone who once tossed me aside for Ben.
Even now, her knee is pressed up against my thigh, and she’s looking at me warmly, her dark eyes open wide, her mouth turned up in a smile. She’s always been so pretty.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing up here? Not that I’m complaining. I love seeing you.”
I swallow. I don’t want to tell her anything about Mum’s flat—I don’t want to tell anyone about it—but it’s like this terrible, shameful burden on my shoulders.
“A few more loose ends, that’s all.”
“Well, maybe text ahead next time and we can go out or something. I can ask Mum if she minds right now?”
I shake my head. “I’m not really up for it tonight.”
“Okay, next time. But hey, let’s do a quick selfie.”
And before I can react, she snuggles under my arm and whips out her mobile. I manage something resembling a grin, or maybe a grimace. When she’s done, she scoots back and faces me fully.
“Your beard got longer.” Helen reaches out and touches my face, her hand running along my beard. “Where are you staying tonight?”
Not here. I can’t. I don’t know what it is. Sometimes I see Helen and her son and don’t mind being with them, but other times, I think of how rough my childhood was, and wonder if her son’s will be better, if Helen will keep it together, if the father—a bloke from our secondary school she dated for a few months but has only occasionally been around Henry—will step up for them. I don’t know. But I can’t sleep on this couch, and I can’t sleep with Helen, and I can’t face Ben’s parents or Mum’s flat.
Maybe I’m just scared. Maybe I should give Helen a shot. At least when I look at her, I don’t want to scream, like when I see Stella Hart’s face. Not that this has anything to do with Stella.Fuck.Why do I keep thinking about that infuriating woman? Now I can only picture those blue eyes and red high heels and the way her chest heaved when she stared at me earlier today...
And that text she sent while I was on the train. Something like:just checking to make sure you’d be able to get me feedback, and if you had any questions.
She added a smiley face at the end. What the fuck? I’d sent her feedback shortly after, having been working on it during the three-hour train ride.
Wastedtrain ride, as I’m already planning my escape back to London.
“I can’t stay long. I’m catching the last train back to London.” I chug my beer.
I have to get out of here.
7
STELLA
Monday, July 8
