“Jay! Let me down!” I squeal, wiggling in his hold. He doesn’t put me down until he reaches his car and sets me in the back. I’m about to crawl out when he slams the door shut and locks it. I try the handle, but it won’t budge.

“It’s for your own safety,” I hear him say through the glass as he goes back inside the park.

Oh, my God, I couldn’t be any more pissed off right now. He just locked me inside his car. My anger trickles away after a minute, though, being replaced again by hurt feelings. I feel hideous. It’s the worst time for me to dwell on the fact that Owen still hasn’t called, which is the cherry on top of Jay’s rejection cake. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me that men just don’t seem to want me?

Maybe I’m just too boring? Okay, self-pity, I’m going to say good night.

Soon Jay returns, sliding into the driver’s seat and throwing the packed-up duffel bag in the back. He doesn’t say a word.

I hate him not talking to me even more than I hate him not wanting me.

Liquid leaks from my eyes, unable to hold back anymore. I dab at the tears with my sleeve and try not to sniffle, not wanting Jay to know I’m crying. In the end it doesn’t matter, because he looks at me through the overhead mirror and lets out a gruff breath.

“Darlin’, don’t cry.”

Now I do sniffle. “Don’t call me darlin’. I’m not your darlin’. I’m your friend.” I put as much animosity into the word as I can muster.

A tiny smile shapes his lips, and I feel like smacking him for it. “Really? It doesn’t sound like you’re my friend. It sounds like you hate my guts.”

I make eye contact with him, and everything inside me deflates. It’s my own fault for thinking there was something big between us. I’ve just never met anyone like him before; he got under my skin so quickly. I think he might have ruined me for all other men already. How sad is that?

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Watson,” he says, turning the steering wheel as he rounds a corner.

“There is. I shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum. I just — I really like you, and you hurt my feelings. I’ll get over it. I’m your friend.” I pause and add, “I promise to be your friend.” Because even though he’s made me feel like shit, I sense something desperate in him, some part of him that needs me as his friend more than anything, even if we have only been in each other’s lives a short time. It’s odd, but it feels like I’ve known him forever. He fit himself so perfectly into my and Dad’s lives, like he’d always been there.

The look he gives me is startling, equal parts self-loathing for himself and affection for me, but that can’t be right. It confuses me.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “I need a friend like you.”

Twenty

A couple of days go by. Dad returns from his golfing break looking refreshed, which makes me happy. There’s an atmosphere between Jay and me, though, and that doesn’t make me happy. I just feel so exposed with him now. It was fine before when I could go around all blasé and pretend like I had no interest in him, but now he knows I like him, and it’s just so mortifying. I feel like a little kid at school whose crush has been exposed.

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 cl**vage; 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.

“Want a ride there?”

“We’d love one,” Michelle purrs. Jay nods and leaves just as quickly as he came.

“You should have said no. I told Owen we’d pick him up in a taxi. Now I’m going to have to get Jay to bring us to pick him up.”

Michelle eyes me. “And why would that be a problem?”

I scratch at my arm. “It just is.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Can you please just tell me what’s going on with you two? I don’t understand why you’re being so tight-lipped. We usually tell each other everything.”

I sigh. “That’s usually because I don’t have anything to tell.”

“But you do now, so spill.”

I look at her for a second, feeling bad for keeping secrets, and then finally I give in. I tell her everything from start to finish. By the time I get to the part where Jay told me he just wanted to be friends in the park, Michelle is jumping up from her seat by my dressing table, exclaiming, “What an arsehole!”

“Calm down. I’m the arsehole for letting myself get my hopes up.”

She points a hairbrush at me. “You are most definitely not the arsehole, Matilda. I could murder him right now. God, I have such a hard time convincing you how lovely you are, and then he goes and ruins all my hard work.”

Despite her angry tirade, I smile at her. “You think I’m lovely. Why Michelle, I had no idea.”

“Shut up and stop being a smart-arse. You’re the loveliest person I know, even if you do have a habit of hiding it behind sarcasm.”

I go to her and give her a hug around the shoulders. “You’re being very complimentary this evening. Are you sure Jessie’s lesbianism isn’t rubbing off on you? Because personally, I think you might have a crush on me.”

She gives me a little shove. “Shut your face.”

I laugh and step away before going to put the finishing touches on my makeup. Half an hour later we’re both in Jay’s car, me in the passenger seat and Michelle in the back. When he starts driving in the direction of Jessie’s apartment, I say, “Um, we need to pick someone up first. Is that all right?”

“Sure, darlin’. You bringing another one of your friends along? If you are, make sure to keep her away from Jessie. Don’t want her corrupting any more of your pals,” he says, winking at Michelle through his overhead mirror.

Michelle narrows her eyes at him and sticks out her tongue in a playful manner.

I fidget. “Sort of. I asked Owen to come.”

Jay’s jaw tightens at my words, and his hands flex firmly around the steering wheel. Great. I had a funny feeling he wouldn’t like this. He’s been mean about Owen from the beginning.

“You asked the douche chef to come,” he says, his voice low and irritable.

“Yes,” I answer. “Is that a problem?”

It takes him several beats to reply, and when he does, his mouth is tight. “Nope. No problem.”

The drive is silent as we go to pick up Owen. He’s standing on the street outside his apartment block, waiting for us and holding a little basket. I step out of the car and get a surprise when he comes up to me and gives me a hug.

“Hi. How are you?” I say pleasantly as we break the hug.

“I’m great. You look beautiful. Here,” he says, thrusting the basket at me. “I know you like our restaurant, so I thought I’d bring you some of our homemade breads.”

I smile at the gesture. “Wow, thanks. That’s so nice of you,” I say, taking the basket from him. There’s a tiny niggling disappointment in my belly, because when he’d called me beautiful, it didn’t feel the same as when Jay did it. It didn’t feel epic; it just felt…nice.

Is nice going to be good enough?

Owen gets into the back with Michelle, and I return to the passenger seat beside Jay. I make all the introductions and am thankful that Michelle is being her usual charming self, because Jay’s reception is somewhat frosty. He glances at the bread basket in my lap, and there’s that jaw twitch again.

When we reach Jessie’s building, Jay parks and Michelle leads Owen to the entrance. I’d almost forgotten that she’s already been here before. I think she does it on purpose, too, sensing that Jay and I need to have a word.

“Can I leave this here?” I ask, gesturing to the bread basket as he pulls a small wrapped gift from his glove compartment. I didn’t know what to get Jessie, so I just got her one of those One4all gift vouchers and a card.

“Whatever happened to buying chicks a bunch of flowers?” he bites back, annoyed.

“I think it’s nice. I like bread. And anyway, what’s your problem?” I question. I stare at him, communicating unvoiced words.

You only want me as your friend, so why do you care if I have a date?

He takes the basket from me and sets it in the back. It seems like he’s trying to calm himself down. God, this man is complicated. I don’t get his psychology at all.

“You like bread,” he says, repeating my own words back at me and staring at me for the longest moment. I don’t know why, but I can’t look away. Finally, he breaks our staring competition.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be nice,” he says.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

We go inside, taking the elevator up to the top floor. It turns out that Jessie lives in the penthouse. Her place is nothing like what I expected. First off, it’s huge, the kitchen and living room all open plan, with floor-to-ceiling windows lining one side of the room. The furniture is sleek and modern, with lots of hip, funky paintings hanging on the walls. A lot of arty nudes, too, all female.