Boyfriend Material(81)

I ground my forehead against the tiles. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“Well, this might be quite a radical notion.” I could always tell when Bridge was making a huge effort not to sound cross with me. I was telling it right now. “But did it at all occur to you that you could have told him something upsetting had happened, and then have a conversation about it?”

“No.”

“Do you not think maybe that might have been a good idea? Do you not think maybe that might have helped?”

“It’s not so simple.” Shit, I was crying again. “Not for me.”

“It could be, Luc. You just have to let it.”

“Yes, but I don’t know how. I saw this thing in the paper, and suddenly I felt as if I’d spent the last month wandering around with all my clothes off, and I hadn’t even noticed.”

“But you liked being with Oliver.”

“I did,” I snuffled. “I really did. But it’s not worth this.”

She made a supportively confused noise. “I don’t understand. What this? The article would have come out anyway. And you can’t break up with someone so you don’t have to break up with him.”

“No, it’s neither of those. It’s both of those. It’s this whole big everything. Fuck, I’m such a fuckup.”

“You’re not a fuckup, Luc. You sometimes do fucked-up things. But, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, I still don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

I tugged at the ragged edge of my nail with my teeth. “I told you, it’s everything. I can’t… I’m not… Relationships. I can’t relationships. Not anymore.”

“There’s not a magic formula,” she said. “It’s hard for all of us—you’ve seen how many times I’ve messed it up—but you just have to keep trying.”

Sliding the rest of the way down the wall, I curled up on the bathroom floor, with the phone tucked against my shoulder. “It’s not that. It’s…bigger than that. It’s…”

“It’s what?”

“It’s me.” I had that creeping nausea again that isn’t quite about your body. “I hate how being with someone makes me feel.”

There was a little pause. Then Bridge asked, “How do you mean?”

“Like I’ve left the gas on.”

“Um. I’m sort of glad you can’t see my face now. Because I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I did that thing where you pull your knees and elbows in, and try to get so small you disappear. “Oh, you know. Like I’m going to come home one day and my whole world will have burned down.”

“Well”—she made a pained sound—“I don’t really know what to say to that.”

“That’s because there’s nothing you can say. It’s just the way it is.”

“Okay,” she announced, with the unwarranted confidence of a World War I general sending his men over the top, “I’ve got things to say.”

“Bridge…”

“No, listen. There is actually a choice here. And the choice is, either you never trust anybody ever again, and pretend that stops people hurting you when clearly it doesn’t. Or, um, don’t do that. And maybe your house will burn down. But, at least you’ll be warm. And probably the next place will be better. And come with an induction hob.”

I couldn’t tell whether Bridget’s strategy of distracting me from my problems by being odd was deliberate or not. “I think you’ve drifted from ‘giving me a pep talk’ into ‘advocating arson.’”

“I’m advocating taking a chance on a nice man who you’re clearly into and who’ll treat you well. And if you think that’s arson, then yay, arson.”

“But I’ve already dumped him.”

“Then undump him.”

“It’s not that—”

“If you say ‘It’s not that simple’ one more time, I’m going to get in an Uber, come over there, and poke you sharply in the ribs.”

I gave another weird weepy laugh. “Don’t call an Uber. Their business practices are unethical.”

“The point is, this is all fixable. If you want to be with Oliver, you can be with Oliver.”

“But should he be with me, though? I mean, he drove me all the way to Lancashire to see my dad, stood up to my dad for me, drove me all the way home again, and then I broke up with him through a bathroom door.”

“I agree,” conceded Bridget, “that wasn’t ideal. And you probably hurt his feelings quite badly. But, ultimately, whether he wants to be with you is his decision.”

“And you don’t think maybe he’ll decide not to go out with the crying man in the toilet?”

“I think people surprise you and, really, what do you have to lose?”

“Pride? Dignity? Self-respect?”

“Luc, you and I both know you have none of those things.”

She’d made me laugh again—I was pretty sure it was her superpower. “That doesn’t mean I want to give Oliver Blackwood a chance to kick me hard in the feels.”

“I know you don’t. But from what you’ve said, he sort of deserves one. And, anyway, it might go well.”