Free When in Rome... by Gemma Townley

realize that Mike is just not interested in you and never was?”
    It’s obviously bad timing. I shouldn’t have brought up my men issues. Candy is pregnant, and that’s far more important than my stupid ruminations on whether or not my flirting with Mike is completely wicked or just a bit of innocent fun.
    But doesn’t she realize that Mikeis interested in me? That things have changed? I’m going to have to leave the subject, but I wish she’d been there. You know, to see that he was all over me. That I wasn’t just imagining it.
    “I’m sorry, Candy, I didn’t mean it, really. Of course I’m going out with David, and I’m completely over Mike—you know that. It’s not my fault if he calls, though, is it?”
    I give her a smile, but am disconcerted to see that there are tears in her eyes. God, what have I done?
    “Candy, honestly, forget it, it’s nothing,” I say hurriedly. “Look, I’m sorry I even brought it up. You haven’t even told me when the baby’s due or about names or anything! We could go to Mothercare or something!”
    But it’s too late. Candy is gathering up her things. “Candy?” I look at her in alarm. Is she really that upset? Can pregnancy hormones make you that temperamental?
    “Look, I’m really sorry, George, I’ve got to go now,” says Candy, sniffing. “I . . . I’m just a bit emotional, you know. It was nice seeing you, and I’ll give you a call. Okay?” She gets up and starts walking out of the coffee shop very quickly.
    “Look after yourself!” I manage to yell after her.
    I look around the shop convinced that people are staring at me. This is awful. I haven’t seen Candy for about two years, and within an hour or so I’ve managed to upset her so much that she’s actually walked out on me.
    Of course, if I’d really thought about it I’d have seen this coming. Candy always thought Mike was bad news where I was concerned. I mean, the two of them do get on very well—they’ve known each other for years—but she warned me from the start not to take things seriously with him, told me that I shouldn’t get too involved because he was a heartbreaker. Not that I had listened to her then, or later, when she told me again and again to leave him while I still had my dignity intact. She probably thought that now, finally, I’d have stopped going on and on about what a shithead he was, only to find that the first thing I talk about is Mike again. I suppose she has a point. To be honest, I’m not exactly proud of myself for thinking about Mike still. But the important point that she has completely missed is that it ishim chasingme . I am the one in control here, and I don’t even like him anymore. Well, not as much as I did.
    I take a final gulp of coffee, but it’s gone cold. I can’t decide what to do. Now that I’ve come all the way into Oxford Street I don’t want to go back home, but I’m not really in the mood to go shopping either. I could try calling Candy, attempt to persuade her that I can talk about the weather or anything else she wants to discuss, but I’m not sure it would work. And anyway, the only reason I really wanted to see Candy was so I could brag about Mike. If I can’t do that, then what’s the point?
    I consider buying a chocolate brownie and another latte, but my stomach is full of butterflies. The sad truth is that I need to talk to someone properly about Mike. I need someone who will delve into every bit of conversation with me, say that based on the evidence it is highly likely that Mike does indeed fancy me like mad, and congratulate me on finally getting my own back. I know it’s wrong, and I know it’s probably very boring to anyone other than me, but surely that’s what friends are for? The whole time I was going out with Mike everyone kept giving me little looks and having “chats” with me that basically consisted of them saying “It’s never going to last, why don’t you cut your losses and go.” And then when he dumped me I got sympathetic looks and lots of “I told you so”