So I'd buried those feelings in an unmarked grave and thought that was it. I'd married Kate-didn't that prove I could be normal? Be like everyone else?
Your marriage failed, a treacherous voice inside told me.
So what? Lots of marriages failed. Suddenly I missed Kate so badly it hurt. Life had been so much simpler while we were together. The day we got married, it had felt so right. Like I was finally doing something I could be proud of. Doing things properly.
God, I hated myself sometimes. I'd spent my whole life trying to do things properly and had been an abject bloody failure. Kate deserved more from life than marriage to a loser like me. I hoped she and Alex would be happy together, I really did.
I just wasn't sure I ever wanted to see either of them again, that was all.
I realised with an unpleasant jolt that Jay was looking at me oddly. "What?" I said, a bit defensively.
"Nothing," he said, still giving me the funny look. As if he'd had a glimpse of what was inside my head and was trying to work it out.
God, I was getting paranoid. I coughed. "Right. Well, I'd better be off, anyway." Not that I really thought he could read my mind, but sometimes, he seemed to know me a little too well for comfort.
I was already back at my car when I remembered I still hadn't asked him about the bloody cat.
Chapter Seven
The next couple of days in the shop were pretty similar to the last, except my taste buds started getting spoilt rotten by Matt bringing me in a packed lunch every day. He wouldn't let me give him more than a couple of pounds a day, either, making his gourmet efforts cheaper than a supermarket packet of sandwiches.
His eye was healing up nicely, I was glad to see-the bruises had faded to yellow already. I'd decided I'd just been an idiot about the necklace. So he'd lied about where he'd got it-so what? He'd probably thought I'd jump to exactly the conclusion I had, in fact, jumped to.
Which wasn't that unreasonable, anyway, was it? I mean, if Jay had been that way inclined, he'd have been bound to find Matt pretty bloody tempting-the cheeky smile, the readiness to help, the adorable klutziness … I sighed. Time to get those thoughts firmly out of my head, before I totally flipped and asked him out on a date for real.
Saturday, we were both rushed off our feet. It seemed like every five minutes someone was either bringing in a bike for repair or servicing, or coming in to pick one up. By the time six o'clock came, I was more than ready to turn the sign on the door around to "Closed".
"Is it always this bad at the weekend?" I asked a tired-looking Matt.
"Pretty much. It's the time of year, innit? Everyone's getting their bikes out of the shed, clearing off the cobwebs and remembering how the chain fell off at the end of last summer and they never got around to getting it fixed."
"Maybe we should start sending reminders round in February," I suggested as I started to cash up the till. "You know, like the dentist."
Matt laughed. "Can't see it catching on."
He was probably right. "Or … I don't know, offer a discount on winter services?"
"That's not a bad idea. You should suggest it to Jay. Are you seeing him tonight?"
I groaned. The thought of seeing Jay I could cope with. Dealing with Mum after the day I'd had? Not so much. "Think I'll give it a miss tonight. Go home, slump in front of the telly." There was bound to be a Poirot on somewhere. "How about you?" I asked, more out of politeness than because I really wanted to hear about all the fun times Matt was undoubtedly looking forward to with Steve.
"Same, probably. Steve's working," he explained.
"Oh? What does he do?"
"He works on the docks."
Steve was a stevedore? I tried not to laugh.
Matt must have noticed my constipated expression. "I mean, he's a supervisor. It's a good job."
"Oh." I was silent a moment, trying to pluck up my nerve. Which was stupid, as this wasn't in any way like asking a girl out on a date. Just asking another bloke if he'd like to spend some time together, that was all. As friends. "Listen, why don't we, er, slump in front of the telly together? Yours or mine, whichever's easiest. We could get a takeaway, a few beers … " What the hell was I saying? I didn't even drink beer. It just seemed more of a blokes-together sort of drink than, say, wine. That was a date drink.
And this was most definitely not a date.
Matt didn't seem unduly worried by my dithering and false heartiness. His face lit up like I'd bought him a puppy. "That'd be great! Um. It'd probably be better to go to yours, if that's okay?"
"No problem. Do you know the way? We could go straight there-I'll be finished here in a mo."