Blind Date

Chapter 65 • Meant To Be

"I dialed him! I fucking! Dialed! His! Number, Trish!"

"What?" Trish calls out from downstairs and I start nervously pacing the width of my bedroom.

"Oh God oh God oh God. This is bad. This is so bad." A sudden flash of hot and cold wash over my body at the same time and I tug at my pyjama top to fan my torso while still pacing my bedroom. "Would you hurry and get up here?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she says a little out of breath as she takes the last step up, holding the wine bottles and ice cream cartons in her arms. "Here, take these. The ice cream is freezing my tits."

"We've got bigger problems than your cold tits," I say, carefully taking the two cartons from her grasp and we make ourselves comfortable on my bed and we set everything down.

"What's wrong? I couldn't make what you said with all your hysterical yelling. Did your Aunt Flo surprise you? Are you out of tampons?"

"No, it's not that. I just-" I pause, willing myself to not cry just yet. "I rang him."

"You mean Harry?"

"Yes, but accidentally, of course. A ghost ring even. Not on purpose. At all. I didn't want to talk to him. At all."

Trish raises her eyebrows in suspicion. "Okay, I'll assume all that rambling is a coverup for your true feelings," she says and I roll my eyes at her. "So, did he answer?"

"I-I don't know, I just, something told me to look down at my phone in my hand and I saw that I was on the line with him for almost a bloody minute. I panicked and hung up. What do you think I should do?"

"Hmm. Did he try calling you back?"

"No. And I really wouldn't know what to say if he did call me back."

"I know what you should say. It rhymes with shmapology," she says, dipping her spoon in the ice cream carton and I give her the stink eye. "Maybe try calling him again, but this time on purpose and actually talk to him."

"Have you gone mad? What am I supposed to say when he answers; 'Hey there, Harry. How's it going, ol' mate?' I mean c'mon, Trish," I practically beg her while taking the lid off my ice cream carton. "Would you hand me a spoon, please?"

"Sure, here. Now tell me again why you broke up with him in the first place?"

"Technically he broke up with me. I was ready and willing to tell my mum to shove her ultimatum up her arse, but he wouldn't let me do it. That infuriating, selfless, caring, wonderful man."

"He is all that and a handful of handsome," she says with a hint of a growl and I'd be upset, but then again, I'm not his girlfriend anymore so I can't be jealous. "And your mum is proper insane, by the way. I can't believe she doesn't like him."

"She doesn't even like me, Trish. Her own daughter. She doesn't like anyone who looks different than her or who isn't in the same social class as her. I'm five sizes bigger than her and I'm sure as hell not cut out for her lavish lifestyle, so I'm automatically on her rejects list. Hell, she's tried to ruin every good thing in my life and now she's done her worst."

"I'm a tad surprised."

"At my mum? You of all people shouldn't be surprised."

"I'm not surprised at your mum. I'm surprised at you!"

"Me? Why?" I ask, scooping some more ice cream onto my spoon.

"Because you've let her manipulate you and dictate your life for years, at least ever since I've known you, and now I thought you've grown emotionally to finally put your mum in her place, but I guess I was mistaken."