Page 153 of Falling for You

‘When are you coming back?Areyou coming back?’

I take a deep breath.

‘I’ve barely thought about it,’ I say honestly. ‘I mean, I’ve left my laptop at yours, but I could go back to work in the Manhattan office and ask you to ship it to me.’

‘You’re paying for that.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

‘You’ve got to come back though, right? I thought you were making a new life for yourself in London – you can’t give up after two weeks.’

God, he is such a pained artist. It’s like he’s about to burst into song.

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘It depends how Mom is.’

‘Okay, sure,’ Stevie sighs. ‘Well, tell her I say hi and send her my love.’

Irritation prickles at my skin. This is our mom. Why is he talking like a greetings card?

‘Tell her yourself.’

‘What?’

‘Well, you’re going to call her later, right?’

I hear Stevie puff. ‘Well, yeah, if I can! I’ve got a show tonight and with the time difference it isn’t the easiest thing.’

‘I managed to do it when I was in London,’ I say before I can stop myself. Even though he’s thousands of miles away, I can see the furious look he’ll be giving me right now. But I don’t care, he deserves it.

‘Yeah, whatever,’ he snaps. ‘I’ve got to go. Bye.’ Then he pauses. ‘Look after yourself too, Nate.’

The line goes dead and it’s back to sitting at the kitchen table, looking at the space where Mom normally sits. Just me and the silence of the night. Alone.

I’m not sure how much time passes with me sitting at the kitchen table staring into the distance. It’s enough time for my eyes to glaze over, making everything shift slightly out of focus and allowing me to dip into a state of meditation.

Eventually, when it’s starting to feel as if my head might fall off my shoulders from sheer exhaustion, Dad reappears. He’s in his chequered shirt and jeans, a white T-shirt peeking out under the undone top button. He’s tall and thin, with chestnut hair and olive skin, which has been carved with linesfor as long as I can remember. Mom once said he had ‘twinkly eyes’, which I never understood, but I do now. He’s a man of few words, but when he smiles his eyes have a little sparkle to them. A small twinkle.

Mom was always the one that took charge in our family. Organised the holidays and the birthdays, decided on the dinner and made sure our clothes were ready for school. She’d even organise her own Mother’s Day if she had it her way. Dad is always right behind her, though, smiling. Twinkling.

‘Hi, Dad,’ I say, as he lifts a coffee pot in my direction. I go to shake my head, and then realise I desperately need something to keep me awake. ‘Actually, yeah. Thanks.’

He nods and starts to make the coffee. His jeans are high-waisted and his shirt is neatly tucked in. The brown belt he wears every day is tightened carefully in place, always one notch too tight in my opinion. I don’t know how it can be comfortable.

‘Have you heard from Stevie?’

I look down at my phone. I haven’t heard a peep from him since our call. He’ll be getting ready for the show now. I don’t even know where he’s performing today.

‘This morning,’ I say, taking the coffee off Dad gratefully. ‘He rang to check on Mom.’

Dad nods, sitting in the chair opposite. ‘Good guy.’

I try to squash down my anger, resisting the urge to challenge how Stevie could be the good guy when I’m the one who’s dropped everything to travel across the world to check on Mom. He can barely be bothered to pick up the phone to call her.

But that wouldn’t be helpful, so I keep my mouth shut.

‘Visiting hours start from eleven,’ Dad says. ‘So let’s get something to eat before we go. We don’t want to eat there,’ he smiles into his coffee, ‘the food is terrible.’

‘Have you been there before?’ I ask, surprised.