OK, I still don’t know what it felt. Very something.
As more time passes I’ve found myself thinking about how weird it was that Justin was on that very cruise ship on the one day that Katherin and I were doing the How to Crochet Your Own Clothes Fast show. As much as the thought appeals, it can’t have been because he came specially to see me – we were rescheduled at the last minute, so he wouldn’t have known I was going to be there. Plus his text said he was there for work, which is perfectly plausible – he works for an entertainment company that arranges shows for things like cruises and tourist tours of London. (I was always a bit hazy on the details, to be honest. It all seemed very logistical and stressful.)
So if he didn’t come on purpose, then doesn’t it feel a bit like fate?
I grab my tea and wander into the bedroom, at a loose end. I don’t even want to get back together with Justin, do I? This is the longest we’ve ever been broken up, and it does feel different from the other times. Maybe because he left me for a woman he then promptly proposed to. It’s probably that.
In fact, I shouldn’t even care whether he’s going to get in touch with me. What does that say about me, that I’m waiting for a man who most likely cheated on me to give me a call?
‘It says that you’re loyal and trusting,’ Mo says, when I ring him and ask this very question. ‘The exact qualities that mean Justin is likely to try and get in touch again.’
‘You think he will too?’ I realise I’m twitchy, jumpy, hungry for reassurance, which annoys me even more. I start tidying my Gilmore Girls DVDs into the correct order, too jittery to stand still. There’s another note jammed between series one and two; I yank it loose and skim over it. I’d been trying to persuade Leon to try actually using our television, offering him my very high-quality DVD collection as a place to start. He was not convinced.
‘Almost certainly,’ Mo says. ‘That seems to be Justin’s way. But . . . are you sure you want him to?’
‘I’d like him to talk to me. Or at least acknowledge me. I don’t know where his head is at. He seemed so mad at me about the flat, but then that message after I saw him on the cruise ship was really sweet, so . . . I don’t know. I want him to call. Ugh.’ I clench my eyes shut. ‘Why is that?’
‘Maybe you spent a lot of time being told you couldn’t manage without him,’ Mo says gently. ‘That would explain why you want him back, even when you don’t want him.’
I flounder around looking for a change of subject. The latest episode of Sherlock? The new assistant at work? But I find I don’t even have the energy to be diverting.
Mo waits quietly. ‘It’s true, though, isn’t it?’ he says. ‘I mean, have you thought about dating anyone else?’
‘I could date someone else,’ I protest.
‘Hmm.’ He sighs. ‘How did that look on the cruise ship really make you feel, Tiffy?’
‘I don’t know. It was ages ago now. I guess . . . it was kind of . . . sexy? And nice to be wanted?’
‘You weren’t afraid?’
‘What?’
‘Did you feel afraid? Did the look make you feel smaller?’
I frown. ‘Mo, give it a rest. It was just a look. He definitely wasn’t trying to scare me – besides, I rang you to talk about whether he’ll ever call me, and thanks, you made me feel a bit better about that, so let’s draw the line there.’
For a long while there’s silence at the other end of the phone. I’m a little shaken despite myself.
‘That relationship took its toll on you, Tiffy,’ Mo says gently. ‘He made you miserable.’
I shake my head. I mean, I know me and Justin argued, but we always made up, and things only got more romantic after a fight, so it didn’t really count. It wasn’t like when other couples argued – it was all just part of the beautiful, crazy rollercoaster that was our relationship.
‘It’ll all sink in eventually, Tiff,’ Mo says. ‘When it does, you just get on the phone to me, OK?’
I nod, not really sure what I’m agreeing to. From my vantage point I’ve just spotted the perfect distraction from how I’m feeling right now: