Matt, and there’s a slightly prickly silence. “But…” he adds, and I inhale sharply. I knew there was a “but,” I knew it.
“Yes?” I say shortly, ready to launch into a six-page speech about my friends and our bond and our support and how I thought he valued friendship. My friends are my tiger cubs and I’m ready to lash out with a gigantic roar if he so much as—
“Maybe not during sex?” says Matt, and I stare at him, brought up short. Sex? What’s he talking about? I don’t WhatsApp during sex!
“I don’t,” I retort.
“You do.”
“I wouldn’t ever WhatsApp during sex! I’m not that kind of person!”
“Last time we had sex,” Matt says calmly, “you broke off and sent a WhatsApp.”
What? I rack my brain, trying to recall—then suddenly a flush comes to my cheeks. Shit. I did. But it was only really quick. I had to wish Sarika good luck in her assessment. I thought he would barely notice.
“Right,” I say after a long pause. “I forgot about that. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Matt shrugs. “Just…I believe in boundaries.”
Is he joking?
“Oh, right,” I can’t help shooting back. “That’s why you make work calls at eleven P.M. Because you have such great boundaries.”
Matt looks jolted, and his brow creases. We carry on walking silently while I try to take deep breaths and clear my head.
“Right,” says Matt at last. “Touché. I’ll try to rein the work in.”
“Well, I’ll switch off my phone when we have sex,” I say, as though it’s a major concession.
Then, as I hear myself, I realize how appalling that sounds. I have an image of myself scrolling through Twitter while in the midst of sex, which is pretty heinous. (Especially as I actually possess a book called Mindful Sex, which I must read.)
“I’ll turn off my phone,” I repeat, “unless there’s a major celebrity story breaking. Obviously.” I shoot Matt a tiny grin to show I’m joking. “Then, sorry, I’ll have to multitask. I’ll still have one spare hand….” Matt peers at me uncertainly, as though to make sure that I’m teasing—then his expression clears and he laughs.
“Fair enough,” he says. “You won’t mind me checking the cricket score, then?”
“Of course not.”
“Or watching The Godfather, Part Two?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. I squeeze Matt’s hand and he squeezes back, and I feel a lift of relief, because look! We’re sorting out our differences with empathy and humor. It’s all OK after all.
“Ava, I don’t want to fight,” says Matt, as though reading my mind. “And I want to hit it off with your friends. I know they’re important to you.”
“They are.” I nod. “We’ve been through a lot over the years. Sarika has issues with her mum, and as for Nell—” I break off. “There’s been…stuff.”
I don’t dare reveal any more details right now. I love Nell to bits, but she can be scary when she lashes out, even after all these years of friendship. And she’s at her scariest when she thinks someone’s breached her privacy. Or when she feels vulnerable. Nor is she always consistent. (For which I do not blame her, but it’s the truth.)
Anyway, it’s best to play safe. Nell will tell Matt what she wants to tell him, in her own time.
We’re nearly at the park now, and I suddenly want to make sure everything is totally secure between Matt and me before we see the others. I feel I have something to prove here. I want—no, I need—us to arrive as a happy couple. A blissful couple. A happy, blissful, fully compatible couple.
“Matt,” I say quickly. “There aren’t any other things bothering you, are there? About us? Like, little glitches we need to iron out or whatever?”
There’s silence—then Matt says, “No, of course not.” I can’t see his face, because we’re crossing the road and he’s looking out for cars, but he sounds sincere. I think. “What about you?” he says, his face still averted. “Any issues you want to…er…discuss?”
He doesn’t sound overwhelmingly thrilled at the prospect. And although Your freezing-cold bedroom has already flashed through my mind, I’m not going to get into that now.
“No!” I say brightly. “I mean…You know. Tiny, silly things. Nothing worth…No. Nothing.” I put my arm around him. “Really, nothing.”
* * *
—
The park is busy with picnickers and families playing with Frisbees. It takes a while to spot the others, but then I glimpse Nell’s pink hair and exclaim, “There’s Sarika and Nell!”