Page 31

Willow

“Elle?”

“Willie?” she replied using her nickname for me, pulling the ice cream tub from the freezer. Elle, Fran, and I had spent the evening getting to know one another over pizzas. It had always been a girl’s night tradition until Cain, and I was relieved to have it back.

I was leaning on the tower of empty pizza boxes as I eyed my best friend nervously. She peered up from her battle with the ice cream scoop.

“Willow, what? You’re worrying me, what’s happened?” she rasped. Her raspiness always came out a little more when she was concerned, like the stress claimed her voice.

“No, nothing like that.” I cleared my throat, trying to find the words. “ I just want to apologise to you.”

She pulled herself onto a stool and remained silent, which I was grateful for, but her eyes spoke a thousand words.

“You warned me a thousand times, and I just didn’t listen. Even when I knew you were right, I didn’t want you to be so pushed it… pushed you as far away as I could. And I’m sorry.”

I stared at the fibres of my knitted jumper meticulously, just to avoid her disappointed gaze. But instead, I was yanked into her tattooed arms.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Willow.” She placed a hand on each cheek, staring into my soul as she spoke.

“It has never been your fault. I would have stood here waiting for the rest of my life if I had to, no matter how hard you or he tried to push me away. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, and that was never going to be with him.

It broke my heart to watch him peel away at you, dim your sparkle.

But if you didn’t want to leave, nobody was going to force you.

You have Nana Jean’s stubborn streak.” I snorted, she smiled, and we sat in silence for a beat.

I wiped her tears away, careful not to cause her makeup to smudge further.

“I’m glad you’re back though. Being out of that house, being in this house in particular, it’s good for you. ”

“It is.” I smiled fondly, thinking of the comforting, quiet moments I’d found in the last few weeks. And it was all thanks to Jack.

“And that Jack’s quite the zaddy.” Her tone changed, and the conversation shifted into the girly banter I’d longed for.

“Absolutely not ,” a voice from behind her piped up.

I looked up from Elle and found Fran – hair tightly in a long sleek ponytail, tied with a ribbon, wearing an Eras Tour hoodie and leggings – standing in the doorway, empty wine glasses in her hands.

“Girl’s night will absolutely not consist of discussing whether my dad is hot, thank you very much.

” Despite her harsh tone, Fran’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Shame. Because he is,” Elle replied melodically, winking and smirking at me.

“I swear, if you keep it up, I’ll pour the wine down the drain.” At the warning, Elle shot up, her hair fanning as she rushed round the island to where Fran stood, bottle of wine angled over the sink.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

They stood in silence, glaring at each other, until they simultaneously melted into hysterical laughter, one that snipped at a few of my tightly wound strings and had me belly laughing just watching them.

Our unladylike cackles died down, and we wiped our tears away – tears which were bred differently to their heartbroken counterparts.

“Fine, you’ve placed the first boundary in girl time, no daddy Jack chat.” Elle carefully started to prise the bottle of wine from Fran’s tight grip, though it was pulled away briefly.

“Boundary number two, we won’t be calling him that either. I’ll call him Dad. You two call him Jack. Understood?” Her eyes were wide and unblinking at Elle.

“Understood, I promise.”

Elle held her palms up in surrender, until Fran believed her and relinquished the bottle of wine. Elle poured the wine into one of the glasses, regardless of if it was hers to begin with, and offered me a wide-eyed eye roll.

“You didn’t tell me Fran was such a sassy little princess, Willie.”

“Oh, she didn’t know.” Fran pulled the empty pizza boxes from in front of me, strolled past Elle with a spring in her step.

“People rarely do. I’m a little princess until I’m given a reason,” she sweetly spoke over Elle’s shoulder, slapping her on the arse, causing a squeal of delight from Elle.

She disappeared into the utility room to dispose of the boxes.

Elle pushed a freshly filled glass across the island, and I took a sip of the sweet red wine, closing my eyes at the blissful taste. I’d never been allowed to drink so casually, only for social occasions .

I shook my head, ridding my thoughts of my old life now I was living so freely with friends.

“So, how’s things with you? How’s Ant?”

Suddenly, Elle’s relaxed frame turned rigid, shoulders lifting to her ears. She froze and for a split-second I didn’t recognise the Elle in front of me. At the sound of a bin lid closing in the utility room, she swallowed the sip, and her body relaxed into its former state.

“Elle?” I questioned, now concerned.

But instead of answering, she shook her head and gulped back the remainder of her drink.

“Not now, Willow.”

I nodded, accepting the temporary armistice.

Fran returned from the utility room, pulling out bowls and syrups from various cupboards, while Elle started to scoop the cookie dough ice cream. I watched them chatting about everything and nothing as they made obscenely delicious ice cream concoctions, and time slowed.

For years I’d craved friendship, yearned to no longer be alone, to be seen.

Finally, after living in a swamp of isolation, I was surrounded by good, caring people.

Fran and Jack had quickly become a special part of my life, and there was nothing quite like bringing together the people who made you glow.

Despite the deep hurt I felt during the quiet moments, I knew I’d never want this to end.