“You know, Becky’s old boyfriend,” says Suze blithely. “Wasn’t he in Warsaw this weekend? Has Becky told you about the hot tub?” she adds with a giggle. “I just went to check it out. It’s massive. I don’t dare tell Tarkie; he’ll flip out.”
She looks at Luke expectantly, but he’s standing there, holding the wine bottle, looking confused.
“Old boyfriend?” he says after a beat.
“Actually, Suze…I hadn’t told Luke about Craig yet.” I’m trying to sound casual, but Suze gapes at me in blatant shock.
“But you said you had!” she blurts out. “You said you’d told Luke!”
I feel a jab of frustration. Why did Suze have to react like that? She’s going to make this weird, when it isn’t.
“It’s no big deal!” I say quickly, with a little laugh, and turn to Luke. “This guy called Craig who I used to date—ages ago, at uni—anyway, he’s living in Suze’s cottage. And he wants us to have a drink with him tonight. That’s all.”
“Right.” Luke digests this. “And what’s the connection to Warsaw?”
“He was in Warsaw for the weekend. He invited you, didn’t he, Bex?” Suze adds, and I see a weird flicker pass across Luke’s face.
“I see,” he says in neutral tones. “So that’s why…Let me get you that wine.”
“It just gave me the idea of Warsaw,” I say. “We should definitely go, Luke! It sounds awesome!”
I’m trying to recapture the mood we had a moment ago, but I’m not sure it’s working. Luke pours out three glasses, and when he lifts his head he’s smiling again, because that’s what Luke is like.
“So, why’s this chap in Letherby?” he inquires.
“He’s burned out after a tour,” says Suze knowledgeably. “He’s a real…you know. Rock type. Leather jacket, boots, tattoos, long hair…a bit grungy. Nothing like you, Luke,” she says eagerly. “He’s totally different.”
I think Suze is trying to reassure Luke. But I kind of wish she wouldn’t.
“I see,” says Luke again, and his gaze runs over my blue-streaked hair, then down over my frayed suit to my new boots. He looks at them for a silent moment, then back up at my face, which is growing hot—I have no idea why.
I stare helplessly back, thinking, No, you’re wrong!
But wrong about what, exactly? I don’t want to second-guess what Luke’s thinking. I don’t want to make some tiny little nothing into a thing, when it’s not a thing. It’s not.
“Anyway.” I try to sound breezy. “He’s asked us to go for a drink tonight. He’d love to meet you. Suze is babysitting.”
“Great,” says Luke in the same neutral tones. “Sounds fun.”
My head is prickling and I can sense Suze staring meaningfully at me, but I don’t want to meet her gaze. I want to make the perfect lighthearted comment that will instantly smooth everything over. Right now, though, I can’t quite think of it.
* * *
—
As we walk through the chilly streets of Letherby to the Lamb and Flag, the village looks enchanting. All the cottages have light glowing from their curtained windows, and there’s a Christmas tree on the green, all twinkly with lights. It’s idyllic here and I do love it. Even if it isn’t edgy Shoreditch.
I can’t really savor my surroundings, though, because I’m a bit nervous. Luke hasn’t said much since I landed the news on him that we’re having a drink with my old boyfriend. His eyes are quite distant and his jaw is tight. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking.
I mean, honestly! It’s no big deal. Or it shouldn’t be. Luke and I are an established, happy couple. The fact that Craig is my ex-boyfriend is neither here nor there. Luke should be open-minded about it. If it were me, I’d be open-minded, I tell myself firmly. In fact, I was open-minded when we came across an old girlfriend of his called Venetia a few years ago. I was.
(Until we had a massive flaming standoff, but that was totally provoked.)
The point is, Craig is a talented, interesting guy and he’s a neighbor and we should be friends with him.
“So I expect you want to know all about Craig,” I say casually as we walk along.
“Not really,” says Luke in unreadable tones.
“Right. Oh. Well, anyway…we hardly dated at all,” I gabble nervously. “So. He’s hardly an ex-boyfriend at all.”
“Mmm,” says Luke, as though this fact is of no interest to him.
“I mean, in some ways he’s like you,” I say, after a moment’s thought. “He travels