“Don’t cut me out, Amelia. Please. Whatever is going on inside your head… or heart, I’ll give you time, but please find the strength to talk to me about it. Please, don’t throw this away over nothing,” I beg and gently pull her into my arms. She lets me and that makes me breathe a little easier.

“I promise,” she whispers against my chest.

“Okay.” I let go of her even though every fibre in my body tells me not to. It takes us ten minutes to corner Furball who clearly has no desire to leave my house, but eventually we manage to wrangle him into his carrier.

“Don’t forget your promise, Amelia,” I whisper before kissing her deeply. The thought that this could be the last kiss we share almost kills me.

27

This Is What It Feels Like

Amelia

When I stir from my dream my chest feels tight and it’s difficult to breathe.

When I made it home on Friday, Smutty punished me with an hour of crying and scraping on the front door, making it abundantly clear that he wanted to be with Ben. Once he had calmed down it took me ages to fall asleep.

Yesterday I spent all day in bed feeling sorry for myself.

My brain has been racing with random thoughts and questions. Was it all an illusion? I know they both said there’s nothing between them and I believe them. But if that's the woman he dated before me, how can he now date me?

She was a fucking knock out. I mean, if I were into women I would date her. Just enough curves, covered by tiny pieces of underwear to look like every teenage boy’s wet dream. With silky long hair, perfect facial features, big green eyes and pillowing lips. I can’t compete with that.

I roll from bed and slide into my fluffy slippers. A quick look at my phone tells me it’s already eleven o’clock and I’m surprised that Smutty hasn’t come for cuddles yet. I find him on the window seat in the living room, lying on his belly and looking out the window completely ignoring me. Apparently he’s still pissed with me.

His food bowl is empty but he doesn’t react when I shake some dry food in it.

“Well fuck you then!” I shout and grab a banana, but I don’t really feel like food either. I open the music app on my phone and press play on one of my playlists. I grab some rubber gloves and cleaning material. Isn’t cleaning what they do in movies to help get over… heartbreak?

I start scraping the oven and frankly by the time I’m finished I feel neither better nor less sad. That’s bullshit.

I fish my headphones from my handbag and place one in each ear. They automatically connect to my phone’s Bluetooth and the music which had been quietly playing in the background to avoid disturbing my neighbours is now blaring down my ear canals. It’s so loud it actually drowns out my thoughts.

This is What It Feels Like comes on. I bloody love this song and it fits the mood perfectly. I start moving my body and dance to the living room. Smutty glares at me and jumps of the window seat, heading upstairs.

Whatever!

I close my eyes and sway from side to side. I’m not a fan of dancing in public unless it’s mild shuffling like we did at the wedding. At home, though, I can go wild. Nobody cares if my movements are uncoordinated and completely out of rhythm.

I also don’t sing generally. At most I’ll lip-sync. I mouth the lyrics along as the artist sings about not knowing if he’s alive. Yes, I definitely feel numb. Not quite unalive but not alive either.

I raise my arms and wave them to the beat of the music. This is the perfect pity party. I want to shake my head at myself. If I call him now, Ben will be here in an instant and I won't have to listen to a song about being alone. But instead, I start twirling and jumping, punching my arms in the air. My eyes are tightly shut.

The bass vibrates through me and I start to breathe a little heavier. Wild dancing is exhausting. I jump from one leg to the other as the music amps up the beat again and shout out the lyrics. Fuck the neighbours.

As the last notes echo out I open my eyes and drop on my sofa, breathing heavily. In the second of silence before the next song starts a soft knock to my right catches my attention.

Four figures are staring at me through the living room window. Big grins on their faces tell me that they’ve witnessed my concert performance. Oh shit, they probably even heard my out of tune singing. I pull my ear plugs out and switch off the music on my phone.

Miranda gestures towards the front door, and she, Fi, Lizzie, and Bri vanish from the window. For a brief moment I toy with the idea of hiding. What a ridiculous thought! Instead I heave myself off the sofa and sluggishly shuffle off, half-believing that approaching the door at a snail's pace might somehow boost the odds of them magically disappearing .

A harsh knock on the door tells me that I’m not in luck. Fuck! Time to face the music.

“Armin van Buuren, right?” Lizzie greets me and dances passed me, toeing her shoes off before placing them on the small shoe rack.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as Bri gently manoeuvres me aside so they can all crowd the entrance area, take off their shoes and jackets and make themselves at home.

“We have, pastries, chocolate, pizza, and ice cream. And Prosecco,” Fi holds up a few shopping bags.

“I don’t drink,” I mumble.

“That’s for me, babes,” Bri grins.

“Ben called Coop,” Lizzie explains and gives me a big grin. Of course he did.

“Okay... so what are you doing here?” I ask again.

“Well, Lizzie alerted us and we ambushed Ben earlier. Don’t take this the wrong way, but he looks yummy half-asleep.” Bri laughs. Don’t I know it.

“He told us the whole story so we’re here for an intervention,” Miranda says, gently guiding me to the sofa.

“Let me get some glasses,” I try to protest as she pushes me onto the sofa.

“On it,” she replies and heads to my kitchen. She’s been here often enough to find everything she needs.

“But before we stuff ourselves with a week’s worth of calories tell us honestly, did he do anything wrong? Because if so we’ll head back to his house and read him the riot act. When he told us the story it didn’t sound like he did but, he’s a guy; they never think they’ve done anything wrong,” Lizzie babbles.

“He… he didn’t do anything wrong,” I say defiantly. This is definitely my craziness.

“Okay so what’s going on then?” Bri asks.

“Wait for me, wait for me,” Miranda shouts as she races back to the living room. The plates, glasses and cutlery on the tray rattling. The girls start dishing out the food and someone presses a plate with a slice of pizza in my hand.

“So?” Fi leans forward as if she can hear better that way. All eyes are on me.

“I met his ex…shag buddy. I guess. He says they never dated properly.”

“Gina?” Lizzie asks.

“Yes.” I confirm before taking a small bite of my pizza.

“Is there more?” Fi probes.

When I finish telling them what happened they all look more confused than before I started.

“I still don’t get it,” Bri says through a mouth full of crisps.

“She was stunning,” I whisper. It already started to sound crazy in my own head; I can only imagine what it sounds like to them.