said that. Suddenly, abruptly, at the end of a night filled with laughter and effortless intimacy, she would always, always say that. And Evan would leave.
But he wasn’t leaving her like this.
He tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her closer. She stumbled, but he’d expected that; she stumbled more than she walked. So he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her upright, and he watched as her eyes widened.
“What if I don’t want to go?” he asked softly. “Would you let me stay?”
She tilted her chin. “Because you want to—”
“No.” That was her defensive voice, the same voice she used to tell him what an awful slut she was. He knew what she was about to ask, and he didn’t care for it. “I’m saying I don’t want to go yet.”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Because you want to sleep with me.”
Evan looked over at the decimated bouquet. “Who sent you the flowers, Ruth?”
She stepped back, away from him. He let go and thought his reluctance must colour the air around them, stronger than the roses. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Mind your business,” she said.
“You aren’t my business?”
“Nope. I’m your neighbour. Now fuck off.”
He’d expected nothing less, so he was prepared for the sting of rejection. Didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
“If you have a boyfriend,” he said, “you should’ve just told me.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend. I’ve never had a boyfriend in my life.”
“Bullshit.”
She grinned at him. The expression was almost manic. “You go and ask somebody. Anybody. Say, ‘Has Ruth Kabbah ever been in a relationship?’ They’ll tell you.”
“I don’t want someone else’s version of your life, Ruth,” he gritted out. “I just want you to trust me.” I want to know why you don’t go anywhere or see anyone, why people say your name like it’s a scandal in itself.
I want to know why you destroyed Daniel’s car.
She sighed. “I’m not the kind of girl who just trusts people, Evan.”
He swallowed down his bitterness. Maybe she was right. He barely knew her, and he’d come barging into her life, expecting to unlock all her secrets like she was some kind of puzzle. His conscious, reasonable thoughts didn’t help, though. They didn’t put out the searing flames of childish anger edged in hurt.
“Fine,” he clipped out. “I get it. We’ll just leave it at that.”
She stared at him, eyes sharp. “What do you mean? What does that mean?”
He shook his head and said, “Don’t worry about it.”
15
“What’s going on with you today?”
Ruth shot her sister a glare as they cleared the table. “In a minute,” she whispered.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Mum’s got Deal or No Deal on. She’s not listening.”
As one, the girls turned to look across the dining-cum-living room. A few metres away, their mother stared, transfixed, at Noel Edmonds’s silver bouffant.
Patience Kabbah had a serious crush.
Still, Ruth wouldn’t run the risk. She said again, her voice hushed, “Wait.” Then she piled the last of the dishes into her arms.
“Woah,” Hannah laughed, swooping in to take most of the load. “Give me those. We don’t need to spend the rest of the afternoon sweeping up china.” She headed to the kitchen, plates balanced expertly in her practiced hands, without a backward glance.
Ruth allowed herself a millisecond of childish resentment. She was perfectly capable of carrying plates to the kitchen, even if no-one in the world seemed to think so.
Then she remembered why Hannah was such an expert at carrying dirty dishes and wiped her mind clean of disloyal thoughts. Let Hannah be the overbearing older sister. She’d earned it.
With a sigh, Ruth collected a few glasses from the table and followed.
The Kabbah women cooked Sunday dinner together, even though Ruth was a known disaster area. She prepared cassava and sliced yam. Sometimes she peeled breadfruit, if Hannah had picked any up from the market in the city. The heavy-duty cooking was mostly left to Mum—but both daughters insisted that she sit out when it was time to clean up.
So as soon as Ruth stepped into the kitchen, her sister shut the door. Hot water was already filling the sink, and plastic Tupperware was on the counter, ready to hold leftovers.
Hannah paid no mind to anything but Ruth. She leant against the room’s narrow island, her arms folded. “Go on, then,” she said. “Tell me.”
Ruth walked carefully to the sink, sliding the glasses beneath the water, focusing on the iridescent bubbles gilding its surface.