of work, or cook for him, or lie in bed with him for a delicious half hour longer.
The more I get to know him, the better I like him. His thoughts are straightforward. His take on life is wry but optimistic. We’ve talked for hours, and I haven’t once winced or frowned or thought, He thinks what? So many guys seem great until you actually find out what’s inside their brain, whereupon you run for cover, panting, “Oh my God, lucky escape!” to yourself. But I’ve spent two weeks exploring Seb’s brain and I haven’t stumbled on any gnarly knots of anger or walls of arrogance. Nor has he told any tasteless jokes and expected me to fall about in hysterics.
The only trip wire—the only one—is his brother’s stuff. His brother’s room. That whole situation. A couple of times I’ve suggested helping him sort out the magazines and he’s batted me away. Once or twice I’ve mentioned James’s room in passing and he’s changed the subject.
Then one day, when he was out, I took the key—it’s on a hook in the kitchen; it’s not hidden away—and very quickly opened the door and peeped inside.
I think I’d imagined a neatly kept bedroom with a few pieces of memorabilia around the place. I hadn’t imagined what I saw: a shambolically untidy, dusty room, with a screensaver still alive on the computer screen and a wizened apple core on the desk and a recycling bin overflowing with empty water bottles and the duvet rumpled as though it hadn’t been touched since—
Then I realized the truth. It hasn’t been touched since.
I stood there for a while, very still, my head teeming with thoughts. Then I locked the door again and put the key back in the kitchen. I was remembering Seb’s resolutely calm, almost upbeat demeanor when he talked about his family. The words he said, almost like a mantra: “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’ve moved on, I’m at peace with it.”
At peace? With a dusty room that hasn’t been touched for two years and is locked away from view?
That evening I plucked up courage and ventured, “Seb, about your brother. You said you were at peace with…what happened.”
“I am,” he said, so convincingly that he would fool anyone. Except a girl who can’t leave things alone.
“Right. Great!” I hesitated, then forced myself to press on: “I mean, maybe one day you should clear up those magazines. And…will that room stay locked forever?”
For a few moments Seb was silent, turned away from me, but when at last he glanced over his shoulder it was with a sunny smile.
“I know. I’m going to do it. It’s not a big deal, really, just haven’t got round to it. So, more important, what are we going to have with this fish?”
Not a big deal?
Part of me longed to push him even further, but a wiser part told myself to leave it for now. So I moved on to the subject of salad, and I could see Seb relaxing.
Now I know him better, I’ve realized that he gets a look when you talk about his brother. Not stressed exactly but alert, like an anxious dog on the lookout for danger. And it breaks my heart a little—but I know that if I go blundering in too roughly, I’ll ruin everything.
So, for the first time in my life, I’m not rushing in. I’m not trying to fix it all straightaway. I’m biding my time. It’s nearly killing me, but I’m doing it.
And this is the only issue that bothers me. Apart from that, I’m walking around in a bubble of dazed, wondering bliss. Every morning I wake up and it’s the opposite of realizing I have the dentist. It’s realizing I don’t have the dentist but I do have the best guy in the world sleeping next to me. Nothing else matters.
Until one morning, as I’m arriving at the shop, my electronic calendar sends me an alert—Family Meeting—and I realize with a jolt that it’s tonight. I stare at the words, blinking back into reality, looking around the shop as though for the first time. Shit. I’ve been asleep on the job. There were things I planned to do for this meeting. I’ve been so swept up, I’ve let my concentration lapse. I’ve let everything lapse.
My thoughts swoop guiltily to Mum. I missed a call from her yesterday and I meant to call back, but I never did. Hastily I dial her number, but it goes