Page 195 of Falling for You

My bag vibrates and I look down to see a message from Mum pop up.

We can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

I smile. It’s Dad’s birthday, which means I’m going home to celebrate with them. Mum did invite Penny and Tanya, but it’s just me going.

I said I’d go down on Saturday and stay the night. My train is booked, all I need to do now is pack.

I hold my breath as I hear Melissa walking back through the apartment. Is this it? Have we finally found the one? Or will she be pulling her staple face of disgust?

I look up as she enters the room. To my annoyance, her nose is turned up.

‘How was it?’ I say, acting like I can’t read her obvious disdain.

‘Not for me,’ she says in one breath, her chin high in the air. ‘I’ll need to see something else.’

I squash down the irritation that seethes under my skin. ‘Of course,’ I smile. ‘No worries at all.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Nate

I’ve only seen Stevie once since the phone call from Mom as I came home from work and he completely blanked me, then went out shortly after. I know he’s not really annoyed at me; he’s annoyed at well … everything. Mom, her message, the panic it put us through. But neither of us can be annoyed at Mom about it – that’s just cruel. So, it’s easier to be annoyed with me. Whatever, I’m annoyed with him too. He’s acting like a child.

We’re brothers, we’ve fought before. But being ignored in a tiny flat which is too small for two regular adults, let alone two men who tower over six foot, is a new level of awkward. I knew he wasn’t working tonight, and since I still haven’t heard back from Annie, I had no choice but to go out.

Which is what has led me to the theatre, squashed next to Remy, who I suspect much like me is questioning the life choices he has made that have brought him to this moment.

It’s not that Aunt Tell isn’t good. I mean, she’s been a professional actor her entire adult life. You don’t get to dothat unless you’re talented. Look at the size of her house! I think it’s more that this may be the most depressing play I’ve ever seen and Aunt Tell died in the first seven minutes. She could have mentioned that when she offered me the tickets.

But I do feel like the universe gave me these tickets as a helping hand. Aunt Tell clearly has no intention of speaking too deeply about Mom, so I thought if I did her a favour, saw Tell in the environment where she’s happiest, then maybe she’ll know I come in peace. Even though really, I come with quite a stern invitation and an unwavering need to get her to agree to come back to New York. But you know, peace too.

I’m trying not to think too hard about how I’ve screwed things up with Annie. Every time I check my phone, I hope to see a message from her, in her bright, fun voice, so that we can go back to how we were in that club in Clapham. But there’s nothing. And who can blame her? I’ve hardly been a stand-up guy so far, have I?

I know I could message her again, but what would I say? I don’t want to burden her with all my baggage. Not when we had so much fun together.

Remy shuffles in his seat and I hide a smile. These seats are way too small for us, and I know this is hardly Remy’s idea of a great night out. But he didn’t even flinch when I mentioned going. He’s a good guy.

I jolt to attention as the audience start to clap and I realise that the play must have come to an end. Aunt Tell takes centre stage, throwing her arms into the air before cuppingthem to her chest and dipping into a deep bow. She gets the loudest cheer of them all.

‘Thank you for coming with me to this,’ I say to Remy as the claps fizzle out. The lights come on and I start hearing the snaps of the theatre seats as people get to their feet.

Remy raises his eyebrows at me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘I didn’t realise you hated squash that much.’

He groans as he stands and clicks his back.

‘I definitely owe you a pint,’ I say. ‘Do you mind if we stay behind and say hi to my aunt? It won’t take long. I said we’d meet her at the bar.’

Remy nods as we start to pick our way through the crowd. My hand throbs as it drops to my side. It’s still wrapped up in layers of bandages.

As we walk down the stairs of the theatre, I spot that the bar is practically empty as the crowd swarms towards the doors, back onto the icy, quiet streets of a Thursday night. The bartender clocks us as we walk forward, and I can almost see his fight not to roll his eyes at the possibility that his shift won’t be finishing in the next five minutes.

‘Is the bar still open?’ Remy says, peering over the bartender’s shoulder.

‘Yes,’ the bartender says, disgruntled. ‘We close at eleven.’

‘Great,’ Remy nods, ‘I could do with a drink.’

‘We’re just meeting one of the cast members,’ I explain. ‘We won’t be long.’