My Not So Perfect Life(120)

“But…” I’m still struggling to take in this hammer blow. “What about your job?”

“Oh, Cooper Clemmow need me back in New York next week,” he says as though this is some minor consideration. “American Electrics want me back on their rebrand—not in the role I’m in at the moment,” he adds firmly. “Forget that. I’ve realized I’m not cut out to be a manager. But what I can do is create. And I want to create a whole new life. A family-based life. Stable. Forever.”

He falls silent. Somehow I manage an encouraging smile, even though there’s a hot, looming sadness in my head. I thought…

No. Stop. It doesn’t matter what I thought.

“Wow. New York. I mean, that’s—” I break off, my voice not quite steady. “It’s a great idea.”

“It is, right?” Alex nods eagerly. “And it was you who gave me that idea.”

“Great!” I say shrilly. “I’m so pleased.”

The more brightly I talk, the tighter my throat feels and the harder I have to blink. I’m in shock. I hadn’t realized. I did let him into my heart. I did. I didn’t even know I was doing it, but somehow there he is, wrapped up with everything that I love.



Suddenly I notice Demeter watching us from the open doorway. She must have arrived back a while ago, because I can tell from her expression that she’s heard. And although she says nothing, I can hear her voice in my head, clear as a bell. One-Way Alex…never touches the same ground twice…a lot of broken hearts…don’t get smitten…protect yourself.

Protect myself. I can feel my mental armies springing into action. I can feel every self-defensive instinct waking up. Because here’s the thing I need to remember: Life is good at the moment. And I’m not about to blight it by pining after a man. I’m not about to hope for impossible things. However well we seemed to work together.

“Actually, Demeter?” I say, in the most nonchalant tone I can manage. “Could you give us another moment?”

Demeter turns away with one last, sympathetic look at me. I turn to Alex and draw breath, my heart hammering.

“So, I don’t know how you saw things working out between us, but…you know.” I force a bright, carefree smile. “We’ll both probably find…different paths from now on. So. No hard feelings. It was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Oh.” Alex seems a bit discomfited. “I see. Got it.”

“I mean, New York’s a long way away!” I give a breezy laugh. “You’ll be busy…I’ll be busy….”

“Yes. I mean, I had thought…” He trails off and shakes his head, as though dispelling an uncomfortable thought. “But…OK. Right. Understood.”



“So.” I clear my throat. “That’s…good. Sorted.”

There’s an awkward silence in the office. I breathe out a few times, my gaze distant, trying to keep my cool. I feel a bit like giving myself a high five, for sorting my life so efficiently, and a bit like bursting into tears.

“I’m not going for a week or two,” says Alex eventually, in wary tones. “I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come round to my flat tonight?”

“Right.” I swallow, trying to maintain my indifferent demeanor and not give away how much I want him.

It’s not only the sex or the way he makes me laugh or his sudden, random, always-entertaining ideas. It’s the sharing, the confiding, the peeling away the layers of him. Which is, I guess, how I ended up letting him into my heart. And so, really, I should say, No, let’s end it here. But I’m not quite that strong.

“Well, OK,” I say at last. “That might be fun. Just fun,” I add for emphasis. “Fun.”

“Absolutely. Just fun.” Alex seems about to say something else when his phone rings. As he pulls it out of his pocket, he winces at the display. “Sorry. Do you mind if I—”

“Of course! Go ahead!”

The interruption is exactly what I need to get my thoughts in order and stiffen my inner resolve. I walk over to the window, my chin set, talking firmly to myself.

OK. This is what it is. It’s fun. It’s an interlude. And I’m going to enjoy it simply as that. Repeat: Life is good at the moment. No, it’s brilliant. And when Alex disappears out of the picture again, it will not throw me. Because the thing about letting people into your heart is, you can just push them out again. Easy.





I’ve called it @mynotsoperfectlife and I’ve already got 267 followers! I post utterly unvarnished, unposed, un-Instagrammy photos with captions, and it’s turned into one of the most fun hobbies I’ve ever had.

A photo of bad-tempered crowds on a tube platform: My not-so-perfect commute. A picture of the revolting blister on my heel: My not-so-perfect new shoes. A photo of my hair, drenched: The not-so-perfect London weather.

The amazing thing is how many other people have joined in. Mark from work posted a picture of himself eating a doughnut, captioned My not-so-perfect eat-clean regime. Biddy posted a picture of some ripped trousers, which she’d obviously caught on some barbed wire, entitled My not-so-perfect rural existence, which made me laugh.

Even Steve’s fiancée, Kayla, has posted a picture of a receipt for the deposit on a tent (￡3,500). She called it My not-so-perfect wedding and I’m really hoping that Steve knows all about it and sees the joke too.