The shatter of the Pyrex dish smashing on the floor and the wet splodge of lasagne hitting tiles reverberates around the kitchen.

Okay so when Elijah said, “Shall we just do it?” I didn’t think he was actually going to just waltz into the kitchen and announce to Philip his son had got a girl pregnant while the poor guy was getting a hot dish out of the oven.

“Oh fuck,” I say. Red Bolognese sauce is everywhere but Philip isn’t looking at us, or the mess, his eyes are on Lewis who has shrunk to the size of a seven-year-old in about five seconds.

“What?” Philip’s pallor grey’s until he could be about to take a bit part in a zombie movie.

“Thanks, Elijah.” Lewis glares across the kitchen at us. I turn to look at Tabitha and she’s getting ready to be in the same movie as Philip.

“Sorry, Lewis, but it’s better we just get it out in the open; your dad has enough going on.” Elijah’s voice is calm and assured and it kind of calms the room. I cast my gaze over him—how it is possible for one man to always be so calm and in control?

Philip straightens, ignoring the mess. “How long have you known, Elijah? I can’t believe I’ve been kept in the dark like this.”

I step forward between the two men. “Philip, I promise we’ve only just found out. Tabs and Lewis came to see me in Brighton and we only got back the other day.”

“What were you doing in Brighton?” He spins and turns to Lewis. “This is the problem with you, Lewis. You are never where you should be, doing what you are told. How am I supposed to trust you?”

“Jesus.” I don’t think Lewis’ tone is quite the right one in the circumstances, but I give him the space to talk. “I had one brush with the police and suddenly I can’t be trusted with anything.”

“Well clearly you bloody can’t. Elijah has been trying to get you off your charges and the whole time you’ve been—” Philip points at Tabitha but then loses the steam of his argument when he sees her face: pale and blotchy with tears rolling down her cheeks.

Philip slumps. “Shit, Lewis, what would your mother think?”

“She’s not fucking here, Dad, because she fucking left us.”

We all recoil from Lewis. His words make my heart ache with a heavy pull. He turns and storms from the room and Tabitha whimpers a little as he pushes past her.

“I’ll go,” Elijah says, turning to follow but I hold onto his arm. The sensation of his body beneath my touch, even the skin and bone of his arm, creates sparks of electricity that shoot along every inch of me. Okay, that shit needs to stop.

“No, Elijah. He needs his dad.”

Philip is a man crushed before us. For a long moment he’s lost in thoughts, his expression dark and tormented. When he turns to us it’s with a vacant gaze. “You know, I really wish she was here.”

Elijah steps up and claps him on the arm, squeezing the material of his shirt. “I know you do, and I know this is not good timing with the case coming up, but it is what it is.”

Philip blinks up into Elijah’s face before nodding. “You are right. I didn’t handle that well, did I?”

I slip to Tabitha’s side and put my arm around her shoulders, squeezing her into my side.

Philip catches my movement and gives Tabitha a wan smile. “Sorry, Tabitha.”

She stands up a little straighter and releases my grip. “It’s okay. I get it. I’m scared, too.”

Philip steps up and grabs Tabs into a bear hug. “Come on, let’s go talk to Lewis and get this sorted.” He turns to us. “Sorry, Eli, Faith. I think dinner is postponed.”

I nod and look up to find Elijah watching me carefully. I breathe in deep and meet his eyes. “Any chance of a lift home?”

He grins, and I want to smack him around the face. Scowling, I pick up my stuff and wait for him by the front door.

“Are you going to pull that face the whole way home?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I can’t wait.”

***

I’M WOKEN BY MY PHONE vibrating.

Gerard Steers: first day of year three... you coming?

I groan and drop my arm across my face. I actually don’t have anything to get up for. Well, I’ve got brainstorming for Angela, but I know nothing about planning a TV show. That will take all of thirty seconds to stare at a blank piece of paper.

I should go shopping, get some supplies; maybe get some food, especially as my stomach is now officially eating itself after the failed lasagne. I grab my phone back up and ignore Gerard’s message as I drop a quick line to Tabs to see if she’s okay. I know Philip was in shock, but he seemed a decent kind of guy. I doubt Tabitha and Lewis got thrown out onto the street—and if they had they would have come here.

Dropping my phone back onto the mattress I stare at the ceiling long and hard. How did I get so tangled with the Faircloughs? I’ve had three friends my entire life. I’ve successfully locked everyone else out—excluding Gerard, but the less said about that mistake the better. Yet now I seem to have acquired a younger sister.

It’s impossible for me not to think of Elijah and the drive home last night. That aching distance between us.

Where is the man with the sliders and artistic soul? Why isn’t he the one trying to win me back?

How come we are still circling around each other despite the fact his sister needs him more than ever. He always said his sister came first. Those were his exact words, so why did he send her to me?

Nothing makes sense.

My stomach gives an almighty lion’s growl. I’m going to have to go to the supermarket—it’s now unavoidable.

I don’t bother with a shower; instead making do with a quick teeth brush and tying my hair into a ponytail that looks perkier than I feel. I’ll walk to the shop. Maybe clearing my head will give me some clarity on what I should be doing with my life next. I seem to be at a crossroads and don’t know which way to go. I miss Al. I’d love to hear his rumbling voice and have him set me right. The pain in my heart, that breath-catching ache, stabs deeper and deeper as I consider never hearing his voice again.

Life without Al.

It sucks.

He’d know what to do. He always knew what to do. As I double lock the front door behind me, I manage to unlock my phone one-handed and scroll to the D’s in my address book. I press Dan’s name and wait for him to answer. It rings five times and I’m listening to the sixth wondering if he’s day drunk—morning drunk—whatever, when a woman’s voice answers. JoAnne.

It’s utterly stupid but I freeze as she calls ‘hello’ down the line.

Then I hang up even though I’ve got no reason to. Crap. I chuck my phone in my pocket and make my way down the stairs.

Straight into a giant bouquet of dusky pink roses.

Holy crap.

The roses lower and I’m met with delphinium blue eyes. My stomach clenches and heats. “I was going for more of a good morning than a scream attack.”

“Elijah, I don't want you here.” I fold my arms across my chest, and glare at the roses—as close to the ink on my chest as can be—and the man holding them. It's a huge bunch; I can't even count the blooms.

“I bought you breakfast, Faith. I figured you'd be hungry after the failed lasagne.”

Is this guy actually for real? “Elijah, the only reason the lasagne was a fail was because you ruined it by dropping the mother of all bombshells when the poor guy was least expecting it. Heads up. Next time, wait for the steaming lasagne to be on the table before you decide to impart shocking news.”

“I find honesty best at all times.” He has the downright cheek to smirk at me over the blooms of roses.

I snort. “That's rich coming from you. Nothing is honest about you.” He thrusts the bouquet at me, filling my arms to the brim.

“Here, look. It’s just breakfast.” Another packet lands on top of the flowers and the undeniable scent of chocolate and pastry fills the air. He leans down and picks up an espresso cup, handing it over to me. How he expects me to take it I have no idea; my arms are full of flowers and pastry.

I sigh deeply although it's not easy with my head full of the intoxicating scents. “Elijah, I don't know how to say this to you in a way that you will understand. But I don't want you here. I don't want to see you, speak to you, smell that manly scent thing you’ve got going on. Bowsley is over, done. Finished. Complete.”

“I thought we could go for walk?

He is seriously not listening to me!

“Are you listening to me?” I would throw my hands in the air, but they are incapacitated by roses. “Because, you're a two-timing, lying bastard.”

“You are ridiculous, Faith. You haven't even asked me what happened. You’ve just assumed you know everything.

My hand snaps the stem of a rose, which considering I want to snap one of his limbs or possibly his penis, isn’t too bad. “I think your mother standing on a stage in front of a crowd of people and announcing you're getting married is more than enough. I don't need to know anything else.”

“Faith, I told you, I’m not getting married. I was trying to protect you. Nobody else, just you. So why the hell didn't you come and find me?” His voice rises. I’ve never heard him shout.  “Why the hell didn't you give me shit, shout at me, scream, make a scene? The only thing you did was walk away from me.”

I thrust the flowers onto the floor, shaking from top to toe. “She said you were getting married.” My voice is a hoarse whisper and I jab my fingers towards his chest.

“And I said that I loved you.” We both jump apart and stop talking as another front door slams up the stairwell. Someone clatters down, but the guy doesn’t even stop to pay us any attention as he rushes past.

Once the person is gone, I get ready to push past Elijah, but his hand is on my elbow holding me in place. “Walk with me, Faith. Listen to me.”

I shake my head. I can't listen to him. Inside my chest is a swirling vortex of emotions I can't control. I want to cry out, to hit him, and maybe just maybe I want to put these flowers into water.

“It is a walk, Faith. What's the very worst that can happen?”

The very worst that can happen is that I can trust him. I know that's not possible. There is no trust left inside me to even give to him—that I want to give to him.

“Five minutes, Faith. Ten minutes if I’m lucky.” The slow smile he tilts in my direction makes my heart pound. It’s something he is extremely good at. It’s not even fair that he’s so gorgeous, something more than good looking. I am crazy fool. “I need to go and put these flowers upstairs,” I say, but then hold my hand out to stop him from following me. “You stay here,” I bark. He just chuckles which annoys me even more. Upstairs, I slam into the apartment and breathe deeply, my back resting against the door.

What am I doing?

What am I doing? What am I doing? The pastries are still in my hand and I peek inside the bag finding two chocolate croissants.

Damn that man.

Does he think he can just come here and give me flowers and chocolate and I’ll forgive him for what happened that night? Not a damn chance.

I clatter back downstairs and find him leaning against the hallway wall. There is no sign of Elijah Fairclough, Baroness’ son. In front of me it is just Elijah of wearing sliders fame. “Where are we going?” I ask. He smiles, and it’s slow and sweet. The butterflies I thought were long dead flicker their wings with the briefest flap of strength.

“Just a walk. It’s Monday, the sun is shining and neither of us have got anywhere to be.”

“Don't you have anywhere to be, Elijah? Like a job where there are always people waiting for you?”

He offers me a wry smile. “Not today, Sunshine.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Okay, Sunshine.” We walk in steady silence to the park where we had coffee when we first met. Back before summer destroyed us.

He sits on a bench and pats the slats of wood next to him. I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. Stand, Faith, if it makes you feel better.”

My head is whirling. I’m going to pass out soon if I don’t eat anything. With a ‘Hmph’ I sit down and burrow my breakfast out of the brown paper bag. When I’ve removed one croissant—flakes of pastry scattering everywhere—I shove the bag at him and he grabs one too. We sit and eat in silence, both of our eyes fixed on the vivid blue skied horizon of the September day. The blue is nearly as bright as his eyes—nearly, but not quite. 

“I came to find you, you know?” His voice is low and my stomach squeezes painfully, the pastry in my mouth drying like cement until I’m not sure I can force it down.

“What do you mean?” I swallow hard.

“The day after the ball, I came to find you. I wanted to explain what had happened.”

“You didn’t. Dan would have told me.”

Elijah’s blues settle on my face, inscrutable in their depths. “I’m thinking he didn’t.”

My heart squeezes and I shrug. “What did happen, Elijah? Did you decide your mummy was too scary and you couldn’t stand up to her?”

He snorts derisively.

“You made me look a complete and utter fool. There wasn’t a damn person in that place who couldn’t see how I was looking at you, see that expression of total adoration on my face. The way my hand was on you. You made me look like a laughing stock.”

His head hangs for a moment and then he takes a torturously slow sip of his coffee, his gaze levelled on the sky again. That coffee is going to land on his head in a moment.

When he does turn to me, the expression etched into his face makes the air tighten in my throat. “You, Faith. Are simply the only thing I’ve ever cared about. You and Tabitha.”

“Did your mother threaten Tabitha? Tabs said she was going to be sent away? What happened?”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t anything to do with Tabitha. I was trying to protect you. Mother wanted to announce the work done at Bowsley was mine. She was going to side-line you as a punishment for me choosing you. It was made clear...” His voice is clipped and tight. “That the Faircloughs had to steal the limelight, so I distracted her so you’d get a chance to meet people, that everyone would know it was you who had done everything. How incredibly talented you are.”

At first his words don’t make any sense and I sit there as the daily activities of the park roll on past us, trying to unjumble them until I can form them into a sentence my brain understands.

“You distracted her? You decided to announce your engagement.” My coffee is feeling the need to come back up and decorate the pavement. “Why?”

“Because there is nothing the Faircloughs like better than a headline grabbing announcement. It was either me being the brains behind the project and you being side-lined, unmentioned. Or me pretending to be engaged for forty-eight hours while I gave you the chance to make your mark.”

“We could have explained to people that it was me. You didn’t need to do that.” My heart hammers against my chest. It’s almost painful and I wince as I try to breathe.

“What? Run around telling everyone there had been a mix up and it was little known Faith Hitchin who’d created the splendour and done so much—when Jennifer Fairclough has just announced her son is a genius art prodigy.” He snorts again.

“But Sienna...?

His eyes hold mine. “Sienna is an old family friend. When I found out what Mum was going to do, I came to London and asked her to help out. Sienna is no fan of my mother’s, so she was happy to help.”

“Your mother is a fucking bitch.”

Elijah laughs, and I hate the way I react to the sound; it’s all flushed skin and wild beating heart—the heart he broke only weeks ago.  “I can agree she is a fucking bitch.”

“What the hell is she going to say when she finds out about Tabitha expecting a baby?”

Elijah scrubs a hand down his face and for a brief moment he looks utterly exhausted. What has he been going through the last few weeks? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own misery, I haven’t even thought about him. Well I have, and I’ve hated him. Maybe Jennifer Fairclough isn’t the only bitch around.

“So back to what happened at the ball.” I need to get to the bottom of this, then maybe it can stop tormenting me, eating me alive and shattering my heart.

“I never expected her to make the announcement there and then. I was relieved she’d said all the work was yours.” His fingers grasp mine and I want to pull them away. I just can’t quite do it. What is it about Elijah, that he makes me stop and talk when no one else has ever managed to create that with me? “But the thing with my mother is, she’s always got an angle.”

“Is that why you didn’t talk to me at the ball?” The haughty expression on his face when I’d laid my hand on his chest is etched into my memory. “I wish I’d had a chance to dance with you in that dress...”

He turns my hand and traces a pattern along my palm. “I wanted her to think I’d given you up. That our fling was over and I was now ready to toe the family line.”

I have nothing to say. He was trying to protect me, I can see that. But he still broke my heart—knowing the truth doesn’t change anything. I still don’t do second chances. I won’t break another rule for him.

“The fling is over, Elijah.”

His eyes are bright when they land on my face: my eyes, my cheeks, finally my lips. “I know.” His smile is slow, but it’s not overly heartbroken. “Walk with me.”

I should get back. I need to get food; one chocolate croissant isn’t going to cut it for long. “What’s in the bag?” I motion my head to the black rucksack at his feet.

“You’ll see.”

He stands up and shoulders the bag, but doesn’t hold his hand out to me, sliding them instead into his pockets. I follow him.

I follow him for twenty minutes. We make small talk, but it’s strained and awkward as fuck. I want it to be over. I can’t keep seeing him. It’s just all wrong. Nothing feels right anymore. Then I realise where we are.

We are at the gates to uni. The security man is in his box checking the badges of students and staff as they walk in.

Elijah hands me the bag and from his back pocket pulls out a security lanyard. “Some second chances are worth the risk, Faith. Gerard let you down, but you shouldn’t do it to yourself, too.”

“Elijah, I’m not going back to uni. I didn’t even finish the second year? Remember, I packed up and left without handing anything in?”

He smiles. “Gerard is waiting for you. Try not to punch him.” Then slipping his hand into his pockets he walks away without a backwards glance and I’m left standing there by myself with the open gates in front of me.