Lockdown on London Lane [PUBLISHED w/ WATTPAD BOOKS]

PART 6: Chapter 3 - Serena

As it turns out though, that's not the kind of thing you can figure out with a single late night conversation.

And it turns out that even now we'd cleared the air and started talking, we're still pretty snappy with each other. Like we've been like that with each other for so long, it's a habit we can't suddenly break now.

So it's for the best, we both decided. It was actually Zach's decision – for a change. He'll go stay with Jeremy for a couple of weeks. Just to give us both space, and give him the chance to really think about what he wants.

I don't think I'd care that much if he told me he was really against getting married. If he thought it wasn't worth the money and the extravagance, and he didn't 'get' the whole ceremony when it just boiled down to a contract, and couldn't we just get one of those instead. I could live with that. If he said he didn't want to stay in the city – well, that would be okay, I guess. We could find a compromise and work that out. I couldn't compromise so much on kids, though – that doesn't seem to have so much grey area.

It's not like I want to break up, really.

I love Zach. And maybe it took this huge fight for me to really remember that, but I do. I want to be with him.

I just want him to figure out what he wants.

At least now, though, Zach gets that. And he knows he needs some space to work it all out.

"Have you seen my black jeans?" he asks, rifling through a drawer. "The ones with –"

"They're on the radiator in the hall. You spilled pesto on them the other night, remember?"

He snaps his fingers at me, nodding, and goes to get them, folding them carefully and adding them to his bag. I watch him packing, going through a mental checklist in my head.

"Got your laptop charger?"

"Yeah."

"And your prescription sunglasses?"

"Yes."

"And your nasal spray? You know your hayfever's going to be way worse out at Jeremy's place."

"Yeah – no. Shoot, I forgot that. Thanks."

He rifles through the top drawer of the dresser looking for it.

"You left it on the balcony."

"Thanks."

I wander out of the bedroom after him, lingering in the lounge and spotting all the places his stuff is missing. His Kindle's vanished from the coffee table, along with his laptop and headphones. The flat's going to feel so empty without him around, I realise now, even if it's not for long – and even if I'm desperate for a little space, too.

I scrape my hands back through my hair, stomach tying itself into knots.

God, I really don't want us to have to break up.

I really don't.

And if I could, I'd tell him not to go, I'd tell him none of this mattered and that we could forget all about it, but... well, it does matter. Maybe not right now, maybe not in a year, but at some point, it's all going to matter, and it's not something I can just forget about. We can't just move on; for better or worse, we need to figure out how to move through this.