“Maybe not during sex?” says Matt, and I stare at him, brought up short. Sex? What’s he talking about? I don’t WhatsApp during sex!
“I don’t,” I retort.
“You do.”
“I wouldn’t ever WhatsApp during sex! I’m not that kind of person!”
“Last time we had sex,” Matt says calmly, “you broke off and sent a WhatsApp.”
What? I rack my brain, trying to recall—then suddenly a flush comes to my cheeks. Shit. I did. But it was only really quick. I had to wish Sarika good luck in her assessment. I thought he would barely notice.
“Right,” I say after a long pause. “I forgot about that. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Matt shrugs. “Just…I believe in boundaries.”
Is he joking?
“Oh, right,” I can’t help shooting back. “That’s why you make work calls at eleven P.M. Because you have such great boundaries.”
Matt looks jolted, and his brow creases. We carry on walking silently while I try to take deep breaths and clear my head.
“Right,” says Matt at last. “Touché. I’ll try to rein the work in.”
“Well, I’ll switch off my phone when we have sex,” I say, as though it’s a major concession.
Then, as I hear myself, I realize how appalling that sounds. I have an image of myself scrolling through Twitter while in the midst of sex, which is pretty heinous. (Especially as I actually possess a book called Mindful Sex, which I must read.)
“I’ll turn off my phone,” I repeat, “unless there’s a major celebrity story breaking. Obviously.” I shoot Matt a tiny grin to show I’m joking. “Then, sorry, I’ll have to multitask. I’ll still have one spare hand….” Matt peers at me uncertainly, as though to make sure that I’m teasing—then his expression clears and he laughs.
“Fair enough,” he says. “You won’t mind me checking the cricket score, then?”
“Of course not.”
“Or watching The Godfather, Part Two?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. I squeeze Matt’s hand and he squeezes back, and I feel a lift of relief, because look! We’re sorting out our differences with empathy and humor. It’s all OK after all.
“Ava, I don’t want to fight,” says Matt, as though reading my mind. “And I want to hit it off with your friends. I know they’re important to you.”
“They are.” I nod. “We’ve been through a lot over the years. Sarika has issues with her mum, and as for Nell—” I break off. “There’s been…stuff.”
I don’t dare reveal any more details right now. I love Nell to bits, but she can be scary when she lashes out, even after all these years of friendship. And she’s at her scariest when she thinks someone’s breached her privacy. Or when she feels vulnerable. Nor is she always consistent. (For which I do not blame her, but it’s the truth.)
Anyway, it’s best to play safe. Nell will tell Matt what she wants to tell him, in her own time.
We’re nearly at the park now, and I suddenly want to make sure everything is totally secure between Matt and me before we see the others. I feel I have something to prove here. I want—no, I need—us to arrive as a happy couple. A blissful couple. A happy, blissful, fully compatible couple.
“Matt,” I say quickly. “There aren’t any other things bothering you, are there? About us? Like, little glitches we need to iron out or whatever?”
There’s silence—then Matt says, “No, of course not.” I can’t see his face, because we’re crossing the road and he’s looking out for cars, but he sounds sincere. I think. “What about you?” he says, his face still averted. “Any issues you want to…er…discuss?”
He doesn’t sound overwhelmingly thrilled at the prospect. And although Your freezing-cold bedroom has already flashed through my mind, I’m not going to get into that now.
“No!” I say brightly. “I mean…You know. Tiny, silly things. Nothing worth…No. Nothing.” I put my arm around him. “Really, nothing.”
* * *
—
The park is busy with picnickers and families playing with Frisbees. It takes a while to spot the others, but then I glimpse Nell’s pink hair and exclaim, “There’s Sarika and Nell!”
They’re too far away to hear me, but as though they’re psychic, they both turn and wave, then stare at Matt with undisguised curiosity.
“Why do I feel like I’m on trial?” says Matt with a nervous laugh.
“You’re not on trial!” I say reassuringly. (Truthfully, he kind of is.)
“You’ll look after me, won’t you, Harold?” says Matt, and I laugh.
“Don’t worry! Anyway, you’ve already met my friends, and everyone loves you.”
Matt’s phone buzzes, and as he sees the caller ID, his face looks momentarily rocklike, which means it’s work. I want to say, “Don’t answer,” but I won’t, because we’ve had that argument before.
“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry. It’s my dad. I have to take this. It’s about— Sorry. I’ll be quick.”
“Don’t worry,” I say generously, because, actually, I don’t mind having a quick moment with Sarika and Nell. As Matt wanders off, talking on the phone, I hurry over the grass toward them, feeling a wash of euphoria. My wonderful new guy and my best girls, all together in the sunshine. What could be better?
“Hi!” I clasp Sarika in a tight hug, then Nell.
“Where’s he gone?” demands Nell at once. “Run away?”
“Phone call. How’re you doing?” I automatically scan her face for signs of pain or fatigue, but she smiles back easily.
“I’m great! A hundred percent.” She hesitates, then adds, “I was just saying to Sarika, it’s been three months since— Well, since any symptoms at all. Three months, Ava. So…who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to give up my blue-badge space to bastard Sweetman after all.”
There’s hope in her face—and it makes her look so vulnerable, my stomach squeezes. Nell doesn’t normally do hope. Not since she got ill. She describes her life philosophy as “managed pessimism.” If she’s looking like this, she must be really hoping she’s turned a corner for good.
“Nell, that’s awesome!” I lift a hand and high-five her.
“I know. Pretty cool. Anyway, enough about me and my boring health,” she quickly adds. “Ask this one about her love life.” She prods Sarika, who shakes her hair back, looking pleased with herself.
“I’m down to a shortlist of three guys,” she tells me. “All really eligible. Two in IT, one accountant, all in the right salary bracket.”
“Three eligible guys!” I exclaim encouragingly. “That’s great! Do they all live within ten minutes of a tube station?” I add, meeting Nell’s eye.
“Of course,” says Sarika, looking surprised, and I bite my lip.
“That’s great! So, are you going to meet them all?”
“I’m going to apply some more filters first,” says Sarika thoughtfully. “Take the process to the max. See who lasts the course. Maybe one will really stand out.”
“Like The Hunger Games,” I suggest, and she narrows her eyes, not sure if I’m joking or not. To be honest, I’m not sure if I’m joking or not either. I suddenly visualize these three poor guys standing on pedestals, waiting for whatever firebomb Sarika throws at them next, and have an awful urge to laugh.
But I mustn’t. This is just Sarika’s way. It suits her.
“Good for you,” I say encouragingly. “I’m sure you’ll end up with the perfect guy.”
“Speaking of which…” Sarika raises her eyebrows sardonically. “How’s your perfect guy?”
“Perfect,” I reply with a blissful smile. “I mean…more or less.”
“Here he is,” observes Nell, as Matt strides over the grass toward us. He’s put his phone away and his face is open and eager, and I feel a flash of pride because, well, just look at him. He could live ten hours from a tube station and he’d still be the right guy for me.
“Hi,” he addresses Nell and Sarika. “Good to meet you again.”
He shakes Sarika’s hand, then Nell pulls him in for a hug, and then, not to be outdone, Sarika kisses him.
“You realize you’re an inspiration to us all?” she says, addressing both of us. “You meet on holiday, you know absolutely nothing about each other, you’re practically strangers…and here you are! The perfect couple!”
“I know!” I say, glancing fondly at Matt. “Isn’t it amazing?”
“Some people invest hours and money in dating the logical, scientific way,” continues Sarika, “but you two just stumble across each other. It’s a dating miracle!”
She eyes Matt closely, waiting for him to respond…and then I get it. Sarika is a lovely, generous person—but even so, she’s dying to find something wrong. Because our love story disproves all her theories of dating, and Sarika’s used to being the clever one.
“Yes, it is a miracle, really,” I say, dragging Matt closer to me and wrapping my arm around his waist. “Sarika’s into online dating,” I add to Matt. “She believes in the power of the algorithm. But I don’t. I mean, be honest, would you have gone for me if you’d seen my profile on a dating site?” Even as I’m saying the words, I realize I don’t actually want Matt to answer this question. “Whatever!” I hastily chime in as he draws breath. “Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t, it’s irrelevant! Because here we are. And what brought us together wasn’t a computer.” I allow myself a tiny, disparaging smile. “I’m not guided by a piece of code that some stranger wrote. I’m guided by my own internal, natural code. My instinct.” I bang my heart. “My instinct was that we would be compatible, and it was right!”