Six of Hearts(74)

I wish nothing had happened between us at all, because it’s even worse knowing what I’m missing.

I’m just waiting for the day when he brings a girl home. I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it if he does. I overhear him telling Dad he’s organised a new place to live, but he won’t be able to move in for another fortnight. Air catches in my lungs. That’s all I have left. Two weeks, and he’ll be gone. I know I’ll see him around, but it just won’t be the same.

Most evenings he and Dad lock themselves away in Dad’s tiny home office, discussing the particulars of Jay’s case. Dad’s decided to take on most of the admin work himself, so that Will and I can focus on the rest of the firm’s cases. One good thing about all this is that it seems to have injected a whole new lease of life into Dad. It’s like he’s twenty years younger, a reflection of the man he was before Mum was stolen from us so violently.

And that’s why I’m grateful to Jay and so glad he walked into our lives, even if he has hurt me. I haven’t seen Dad so invigorated in a long time.

Towards the weekend I get a text from Jessie, which reads:

Hey, lady! I’m throwing myself a birthday party this weekend at my place and you’re invited. You can bring along your blonde friend, too ;-) P.S I’ve attached that list of dating sites I promised you. See you Saturday!

I smile to myself at the idea of her arranging her own birthday. Then I frown, knowing that Jay will be there. It will be a social setting, and I’m sure there will be girls throwing themselves at him, even if the majority of guests will probably be batting for the other team.

The idea makes me anxious. I really want to go, because I like Jessie. I want to stay friends with her. But I need to think of something that will make me less heartbroken if Jay does happen to bring a date, or start chatting women up when he’s there.

I scroll through the list of dating sites that Jessie sent, no real intention of joining any of them. I’m kind of disillusioned with my quest for romance right now. But still, it puts an idea in my head. If I bring my own date, then it will show Jay that I’ve moved on. That his rejection was nothing but a blip on my radar.

Even though Owen hasn’t tried to make contact with me, I decide to throw caution to the wind, sending him a quick text asking if he’d like to come to the party with me. I get a reply soon after.

Owen: Hi, Matilda! I’d love to go with you. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. It’s not because I didn’t want to, I just wasn’t sure if you liked me. But I’m really happy you’ve decided to touch base. Looking forward to the party.

His response stirs a pang of guilt in my chest, because I’m essentially using him. But I do like him; I’m just not sure how much. He’s a nice guy with a good personality, and that’s not a bad start.

On Saturday afternoon, Michelle comes over to get ready for the party at my house. She’s been extremely enthusiastic about seeing Jessie again, which makes me want more details about what happened between them. So I ask her.

“Let’s just say, the woman knows what she’s doing, and I’m talking downtown,” she replies in a saucy voice.

I burst into laughter. “Did you just quote The Simpsons?”

She shrugs, smiling. “Maybe.”

“So, is this a new era in the love life of Michelle Malone? No more men, just women.”

“No more meat, just fish.” Michelle chuckles. “No way, Matilda. Jessie might as well be a fella, you know what I mean? I like men, and sometimes girls who act like men. Keeps things interesting. It’s no big deal.”

“I guess not.”

There’s a knock at the door, followed by Jay asking, “Can I come in? Are you ladies decent, indecent? I hope it’s the latter.”

“My mind is indecent, if that counts,” says Michelle.

Hearing his voice makes me jump. “Come in,” I reply, wondering what he wants.

He ducks his head in the door. “You two heading to Jessie’s party?” he asks.

His eyes sweep over me, and his posture immediately stiffens. I wonder if it’s because of the dress I’m wearing. It’s red with a sweetheart neckline that frames my cleavage; the rest of it hugs every curve of my body. It feels like he’s trying not to look at me even though he’s addressing me, which inadvertently feels like a triumph on my part. Take that, rejection. I can look amazing, and I don’t care if he doesn’t want me for me. I know that he likes my body, which is probably why the little fumbles we had happened in the first place.

“Yeah,” I answer, trying to sound just as standoffish as he does.