Patchwork Paradise(64)

“I don’t want your money,” I said, wanting to sound angry and hurt. Instead I sounded resigned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you. Here I am asking you to have faith in me, and I didn’t show you the same kind of respect. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we need some space.” I’d only ever been in one relationship, and Sam and I had never needed space. I knew what it generally meant when couples came to that conclusion. Tears prickled against my eyelids, but I managed to hold them back. “When do you want to leave?”

“Tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.”

“It’s fine, Thomas,” I said, and my heart ached. “I’ll help you pack. But I do think we need to resolve this thing with Cleo and Imran somehow.”

“Ask them to come over in the morning if you want.” He sounded so tired. “The thing is . . . there is no way that baby was mine.”

“What?” I sat up a little. “But you guys had sex, didn’t you?”

“Yes, we did. But I never came.”

“What?” I sat up even straighter. “But you did . . .” I had no clue how to put this delicately.

“Yes. With a condom. And I didn’t have an orgasm. I sort of faked it when she came, and hurried into the bathroom and squirted some shower gel into the condom in case she saw it when she emptied the bin.”

I tried not to laugh but a snort came out anyway.

“It’s not funny,” Thomas said, but he laughed too. “Oh my God, I’m ridiculous.”

“Little bit.” I put my head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around me. I couldn’t decipher what this meant, if this was friendly affection or love, and I was too emotionally exhausted to try. “You have to tell Imran this. And Cleo. Or this is going to ruin more than our friendships.”

“Shit.”

I picked up my phone and sent Cleo and Imran the same text.

Come over tomorrow. We need to talk. All of us.





I felt like some sort of reality TV armchair psychologist as I sat in my living room, Cleo and Imran on one side of the sectional and Thomas on the other. Milo was making cooing noises on the floor, completely fascinated with the plastic mirror dangling from his play mat.

Okay, Cleo why don’t you tell the audience your side of the story?

I wanted to giggle. But didn’t, thank God. “A beer, anyone?” I asked, my voice pitched a bit higher than usual.

“It’s ten in the morning,” Cleo said.

Meh . . . “Okay, well, coffee, then?”

“What are we doing here, Ollie?” Imran asked for the second time. “I have to go to work in an hour.”

I frowned at him. He had always been blunt, but this? And the way he wouldn’t look at anyone? “What’s the matter with you?” I asked him. “Why are you being such a dick?”

“He’s being a dick,” Cleo said, “because he never believed me when I told him there was no way that baby was Thomas’s.” I noticed they were sitting next to each other but not touching at all.

Thomas made a startled noise and turned bright red. “You . . . knew?”

“Honey, I know the difference between spunk and shower gel.”

I still wanted to laugh, but managed not to. “Okay, so now you know.” I pretended to bring their heads together. “Now kiss and make up.”

“He can’t,” Cleo said. “It was never about the baby, just like our previous fight wasn’t really about me sleeping with Thomas.” She turned to Imran. “I know you tried, but you can’t, can you?” She began to cry. When Imran reached for her, she ran out of the room. I gave Thomas a baffled look, but he shrugged, clueless as well.

“What the hell?” I asked Imran. “What’s going on?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “She wants commitment,” he said, and when he didn’t go on, I made a duh face.

“Uh, well, you’ve been together for years. You got her pregnant. How is it ridiculous that she wants commitment?”

“All I ever do is work, Ollie. I’m not ready to be tied down into a routine at home too.”

“Maybe you could’ve thought of that before she invested years of her life into a relationship with you,” Thomas quietly said.

Imran sneered at him. “You’re one to talk. Why the f*ck did you have to sleep with her, huh?”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” I said and rose to my feet again. “You guys had broken up, she was feeling lonely, and one thing led to another.”

“That’s the oldest excuse I’ve ever heard,” Imran snapped.

“You’re saying you don’t want to commit!” I yelled. “But at the same time you don’t want her to see other people. And what? You can?”

“I never said that.”

“You need to make up your f*cking mind. She’s a great person, and she deserves better.”

“It scares the crap out of me, okay? The idea of marrying and having babies, and basically being a slave to work and home life forever.”

“Sometimes you have to take a risk with the scary stuff to get to the good stuff,” I said. “Sometimes you need to decide whether or not someone is worth the risk. And it’s not fair to leave someone hanging while you take forever making up your mind.” I didn’t mean to, but I glanced at Thomas.