I wake in a tangle of bedcovers, my hair splattered and damp against my face. I dreamed of him all night, hot and wild, part burning man, part man in the suit who could bring me to my knees.

I sit and try to gather my bearings. I’m in my own bed, which is nice. Tabitha and Lewis weren’t here when I got home. I reach for my phone and check to see if she answered my message the night before.

Eli Jones: Friend request.

Bugger. My stomach sinks as I stare at the screen. Eli Jones is the man I fell in love with. The artist, the man with five friends who drank alone in the kitchen of his castle of a family home.

Tears prickle my eyes. Why is this so complicated? Why can’t it be easy to walk away from him? I should have left, started new someplace else. I could have gone anywhere, but instead I’m still tangled with the Faircloughs, my heart still hurting. I would never leave Tabitha. Elijah knows that; it’s why he sent her to me in Brighton in the first place.

I hit accept and then scramble out from under the covers and pace for my small bathroom. It’s nothing like the wet room I had at Bowsley. Elijah would never have the space to do what he did to me there in my small tub with the overhead shower. But, hell, it’s mine and it’s vaguely clean, and sometimes that’s the best a girl can hope for. I begin to run a bath, the water comes out of my taps in a slow trickle, putting in extra bubbles before I leave the water to fill and go to make myself some rocket fuel coffee. My phone is flashing, but I make myself ignore it until I’ve got a cup of strong espresso in my hand.

Eli Jones: I’m glad we are friends again.

I roll my eyes and perch on the mattress.

Faith Hitchin: Facebook friends only. We both know it doesn’t count.

Eli Jones: It’s how it starts.

Faith Hitchin: Go away.

Eli Jones: Don’t forget 7:30 - could you wear that dress again?

Is he for bloody real?

Faith Hitchin: I burned it.

Eli Jones: That breaks my heart. You were hot—steaming—in that dress...

Faith Hitchin: So hot you got engaged to someone else.

I’m grinning even though I know I shouldn’t be. This is dangerous ground and I’ve got to keep myself together.

Eli Jones: Your words wound me.

Faith Hitchin: No comment.

Eli Jones: See you later, Sunshine.

I groan and drop my phone back down, falling onto my pillows and glaring at the ceiling. Faith, what are you doing?

Run. It’s safer that way.

I can’t. I’m frozen to the spot, waiting to see what’s going to happen next in this car crash of misfortune.

My phone beeps again and casting it a side-eye, I check it’s not him again. It’s not, it’s Tabitha telling me she will be home later and asking if her and Lewis stay here. I pick up my phone and contemplate how to tell her she needs to go to see her mother. I can’t find the words—I can’t encourage anyone to see that woman.

I’m not stupid. I learned enough about the Faircloughs when I was at Bowsley to know it’s Elijah’s grandmother, Connie, running the roost, but Jennifer Fairclough needs to develop a spine before she fucks up for good. Her daughter is eighteen and would rather stay with me— a near stranger—than with her mother.

At least my mum had the good grace to leave before she could mess me and my dad up any more. Although I suppose if she hadn’t left then I would never have been at the mercy of Aiden and my life wouldn’t have been ruined.

It’s been a long time since I ever even thought about my mum. She’s just not on my mind, never has been, although saying that neither is my dad.

Sighing, I send Tabs a quick message saying she’s welcome to crash here as long as she likes.

The doorbell makes me get up and grab my fluffy dressing gown. At the other side of the door is a delivery guy brandishing a slim box. “Miss Hitchin.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Sign here please.” I do, taking the box out of his hands and turning back into the flat. Peeling off a deep green ribbon, I lift the lid and unwrap some gold tissue paper. There’s a small card poked in between two delicate sheets. Just doing what I’m told! Don’t shoot the messenger. Saskia xxx

What the hell? Saskia is the Faircloughs personal assistant. It was a subject of much mirth to me that she dressed Elijah in his gorgeous suits.

I pull a sheath of black satin out of the box and watch as it unravels into a long dress, similar to the white one I wore to the ball. I stare at the tag, my heart pounding. Max Mara. Holy crap.

The bell of the door goes and like I’m stuck in glue, I wade my way back to the door. Maybe it’s the delivery man asking for the hundreds of pounds dress back.

No. It’s a different delivery guy, handing me a small box and asking me to sign. With a shaking hand I grasp the biro and somehow manage to scrawl it over the page.

This box is small, too small to be a dress. If he’s sent me that ring I’m going to explode. I pull the small cardboard lid off and find a black stone pendant settled on a grey foam pillow. It had better not be a diamond. Heart shaped, it’s simple and understated. There’s a piece of paper folded inside the box which I unfold with trembling fingers.

Not a diamond. It’s onyx, and beautiful like you, Sunshine. See you at 7:30.

Well, bloody fuck.

I stalk back to the bedroom with the dress and the box and put them on the bed, grabbing at my phone.

I’m typing. Well I don’t know what I’m typing when the bell rings again. I swear my whole way back to the door. “What?” I fling it open.

“Waitrose delivery for Miss Hitchin.” Behind the guy in the green Waitrose uniform is five crates of food. Okay. That isn’t even going to fit in my kitchen.

There is no point turning the guy away. “Yeah.” I nod with some defeat. Once the food is in, although not put away, I go back to my phone.

Faith Hitchin: This is far too much.

Eli Jones: ;-)

I try to call Abi. I could seriously do with talking this through. The kiss... everything... but she doesn’t answer.

There is another knock and I make my way back to the door. Who the hell, or more to the point what can it be now? Does Elijah think he can pay his way back into my heart? He’s got the wrong girl if that’s the case.

I open the door. “Yes?”

There’s a woman with a baby in her arms, her cheeks flushed. I really hope this isn’t a delivery of some random baby—because I’m going to have to draw the line.

“Hi, I’m Lucy. I live downstairs. Have you got water running?”

“Oh my. Shit!” I dash back to the bathroom which is now the wet room I’ve always dreamed of. Water is sloshing over the floor and pouring over the rim of the bath. “Crap.” I slide through puddle and twist the taps closed.

“You okay?” The woman’s voice filters through the small hallway.

Walking out, I try not to slip. My feet are soaked. “I’m so sorry. Is there a lot of damage downstairs?”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m sure it will dry up.” She drops a kiss onto the chunky little boy squidged in her arms. “Honestly, we’ve only lived here a few weeks. I didn’t think anyone was here because we’ve never heard you.”

“Oh. Yeah, I was away with...” For a minute I lose all words. “Work, and uh, stuff.”

She nods although it’s obvious I’m making up rubbish. She probably thinks I’ve been in jail. Her eyes are on the roses exposed beneath my dressing gown before flicking to the ink on the back of my hands.

“I haven’t been in prison.”

“Oh, no.” She flushes.

“I grew up in a tattoo shop in Brighton. Guess I got the bug.”

I don’t need to tell the stranger from downstairs that I covered myself in ink so no one would see the real me.

A moment of outstanding clarity rushes into my brain.

Elijah saw me, the real me, as soon as we met. He never saw anything other than me.

“Are you okay?”

I run a hand through my hair. I should clear up all the mess I’ve made. “Do you fancy a coffee?”

“Uh. Yeah, sure, I guess. If you don’t have anywhere to be?”

“I’ve not a lecture ‘til later.”

She shoots me a questioning look and repositions the baby on her hip.

“I’m doing a degree in Fine Art. Well, I think I am. It’s complicated.” I use Elijah’s line. “I’m Faith, by the way.”

“Hey.” She gives me a shy smile. “Want some help putting away your shopping?” Her quick gaze darts behind me to the mountain of shopping.

“Yeah. It’s a lot of food. A friend of mine isn’t convinced I eat enough.”

A friend?

“Why don’t you go and jump in that bath, and I’ll find the cups and coffee.”

Firstly, I throw all the towels I own bar one onto the floor to soak up the mess. As I sink into the water, I consider the craziness of the morning; last night’s kiss; and the fact I have a total stranger who lives downstairs, in my apartment while I’m in the bath. I mean, that’s a new level of weird even for me.

What’s happened to me?

I don’t need any answer. I already know it.

Him.

At seven thirty, I make sure I’m downstairs and ready. I almost didn’t wear the dress, but I didn’t want to be rude to Saskia. That and the fact it is exceptionally pretty and fits like a dream. I dug around in my abandoned wardrobe until I found a silver, fine spun cardi I could slip over my shoulders. My impromptu coffee with Lucy from downstairs was surprisingly enjoyable. All this time living in London and I’ve finally met and talked to a neighbour. She wanted to know what I did. It was an interesting situation to explain: well I went to uni, dropped out of uni, lived in a stately home... fair to say it was two cups of coffee. Not just the one.

Now, as I walk down the stairs, I can’t help but wonder what I’m doing.

What am I doing?

In a moment of sanity, I grab my phone out of the silver clutch I’ve slipped it into and start to type a message.

Sorry. This isn’t a good idea.

“Too slow.” His smirk is almost audible behind me and I forget how to breathe. Holy shit. This guy. Turning I sweep my gaze over him.

No. I can’t even think.

This guy...

Wearing a black tuxedo with a black tie, his bright blue eyes standing out in stark contrast, he looks unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Ever.

He looks like the barrister, the son of titled gentry. His smile is one hundred percent Eli.

“Where on earth are we going?” Even my voice is shaking. I can’t think right now about the knock of my knees. “I’d be happy with McDonalds again if I’m being honest.”

He holds out his arm, bending it at the elbow into a crook for me to slip my hand through. I hesitate. The moment is weighing on me, like this could change everything.

“Listen, Elijah. I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but you know I can’t do second chances, and I think deep down you understand why.”

The blues glance across my face. “Yes.” He nods. “I know.”

His acknowledgement pops a balloon inside me I didn’t even know was inflating.

It’s better this way. Safer.

I slip my hand under his arm and step closer. Good God, he smells amazing, and he leads me out to the street. “Your carriage, my lady.” I smile when I see the MG and slip onto the immaculate leather, relishing the scent of the upholstery cloying in the air. I’ve missed this car.

He turns the key and we idle out into the evening traffic. It’s still light; people still working their way home from a day at the office. I watch them through the passenger window as Elijah does his sexy driving thing and we sit in silence.

“How was your day?” he asks eventually.

“Interesting. I flooded the flat downstairs.”

He raises an eyebrow and flashes a smirk my way. “That sounds more than interesting.”

“Well I kept getting all these deliveries and I forgot I had the bath running.”

His eyes settle on the shape of my legs under the black silk. “I’d say I’m sorry, but you look stunning in that dress.”

I nod. “Saskia did a good job, although I don’t know why the Fairclough personal shopper feels the need to dress me. I’m not the responsibility of the Faircloughs anymore.”

“She did,” he clips his response, not commenting on the rest of my observation.

“So where are we going again?”

He inclines his head through the windscreen. “We’re here.”

I stare in confusion at Whitlocks. Firstly, it’s closed, way past trading hours; secondly, why the hell am I wearing a Max Mara dress?

When he turns, the depths of fire within his gaze all but freezes me to the spot. He reaches forward and brushes a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“I don’t want this to be a second chance, Faith. I never want to have a second chance with you, because I want everything to be a first, forever. What happened before, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t me and it wasn’t the real you. But I want to give you all the firsts from here on out and never stop them.”

“Elijah—” He puts a finger against my lips to stop me talking.

“Come. It’s our first date. And if you still don’t know about me afterwards, then I’ll leave you be.”

A trembling shake pulses through my entire body. I don’t even know if I can get out of the car. He comes around and opens the door, holding his hand out for me. I take it, grateful for the support.

I don’t know what to think or say. I should be kicking him in the balls and running down the street, but there was something in his tone I just can’t stop clinging to. Can’t stop holding onto like an upturned lifeboat. The same lifeboat we got swept away on weeks before.

Black drapes are across the windows and there are no exhibits in the window displays. The windows look sadly bare without their usual splashes of coloured glass. From around the edge of the black velvet drapes there’s a slither of light.

“What is this?” I ask again. My stomach is in knots; my pulse thudding, loud and insistent.

“Cheese and wine.”

I almost glance for his usual picnic blanket. He’s not a man opposed to popping a bottle of wine in a basket and calling it an evening picnic.

“Elijah.”

“Faith.” His lips curve into a delicious smile and I think for a moment he’s going to kiss me. It hangs there suspended between us. Do I want the kiss? Possibly. Would I kiss him back? More than likely. But my body and its reactions aren’t to be trusted. This is just another example of that.

He turns the handle, opens the door and pulls me through after him into a swathing glow of golden light. The room is draped in black and gold. Shards of glass hang from the ceiling, suspended on thin wires. I’d be jealous of the artist who’d created them, if it wasn’t me.  A field of glass flowers delicately tinkle above the heads of people gathered in front of me, hanging like icicles on a cold winter’s day, shades of blue I’d created weeks ago with the students at Bowsley. With my mouth open, my gaze falls onto the faces below the flowers. Elijah steps back, giving me a clear view of Whitlocks showroom.

It’s all my art. Everything.

It’s Abi and Adam. Gerard, Saskia... Dan... The kids from Bowsley. They all start to clap and cheer. Damien, Angela.

“What the fuck?” My legs almost disappear from beneath me and I’m going to crumple until Elijah steps up and places a supportive arm around my back. “This is your first exhibition.” His breath brushes along the skin under my earlobe and a shiver not caused by shock or nerves runs through me.

“Did you organise this?”

“With help.”

Just then music starts to play, and I laugh until tears squeeze out the corner of my eyes. Take That’s ‘A Million Love Songs’ plays and Elijah guides me to where a space is clear in the middle of the gallery.

“And this, is our first dance which we should have had weeks ago.” I’m shaking my head and laughing, but he ignores me and pulls me into his chest, his cheek brushing mine until his scent is rich and evocative and filling my head.

“I’m so embarrassed,” I murmur.

“Don’t be. Everyone knows you’re a genius here.”

I look up and stare into his handsome face, meeting his gaze. “I’m not a genius.”

“You also don’t see yourself very clearly.”

“What will your mother say when she hears?”

He twirls me around, pushing me further out of his grasp and then reeling me back into his chest. He moves like a dream, but then I knew that already—I’ve had sex with him. “I would say it’s gallant of me to be at the exhibition of the artist the Fairclough family discovered. Wouldn’t you?”

His words should sting, but strangely they don’t. This is better, without his family involved... this...

I can’t. I can’t even think about this...

“Smile for the camera, Faith, make it beautiful for my mother.” A photographer steps up and Elijah twirls me again as he turns us towards the outstretched lens. As I come back in and bump into his chest, I grin, and he smiles and clutches me tighter. The flash blooms capturing the moment forever more.

“Your audience awaits.” Elijah lets me go and the distance between us runs like cold water over my skin. He doesn’t leave though; he stays one step behind me, securely close, as I launch myself towards Abi and Adam and wrap my arms wide around both their necks, squishing the three of us together. “Abi, what are you doing here? I’ve been trying to call you all day.”

“Secrets, sister. I don’t have to tell you everything.”

A tear leaks out of the corner of my eye. Take That is still playing in the background filling the room with cheese, and Elijah places a glass of wine in my hand—wine and cheese. I cry and laugh at the same time which isn’t an easy combination. I swipe at my eyes. “I can’t believe this,” I say to no one in particular.

Dan is stood a little way off, watching me casually. My discreet cry turns into a sob as I throw myself at him. “Thank you for coming.” I whimper into his neck, my tears splashing against his skin.

“Always for you, little Faith.”

I push away and check him over, but he scowls a little at my searching look. “Don’t mother me.”

“I’m not. You okay?”

“Fine.”

He softens and smiles. “Dad would have been so proud of you, and I am, too. You’ve got some amazing stuff here. If I’d known, I would have got you to make something for me ages ago.” He chuckles, but I bolt down alarm when it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I thought you were still on terrible ashtrays.”

I swat him with my hand, but he pulls me in tight, planting a scattering of kisses along my forehead. From the corner of my eye, I get a flash of black tux and I’m all too aware of Elijah watching. Not that it should matter—but it does; in an odd, unsettling way, I will never be able to explain.

Eventually, I extract myself from my oldest friends, making sure they have drinks, and then I start to circle and meet the other people gathered. Angela grabs me and starts to introduce me to a whole host of names I have no chance of remembering. I can all too easily focus on where they are from. The press, galleries, there are some big movers and shakers, and commentators who influence so much.

This was what Elijah was trying to give me at the ball.

I get that. Now.

I’ve been smiling and greeting so many people my face hurts. Elijah is across the room talking to an older gentleman in tweed. I can’t keep my eyes off him—Elijah, not the man in tweed.

“Have you looked at all the pieces?” Gerard says as he and Dylan sidle up with Tabitha and Lewis. I’m pleased to see people I don’t have to grin inanely at for a couple of minutes. I let my face fall and wiggle my cheeks around, moving my mouth side to side. “I think my face is going to fall off.” I slide my arm around Tabitha and give her a squeeze. “You okay, chick?”

“Yep.” Her eyes are on Lewis though who folds his arms across his chest.

“Is your dad not here?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry about the other night, Lewis. I didn’t mean for it to go that way.”

He sends me a smile. “Don’t worry, Faith, he’ll be okay. It’s just a surprise for everyone.” I can’t help notice his skin pale with his words and Tabitha looks like she’s on the verge of tears. This isn’t the time or place though. I turn a little and spot Abi who I gesture over discreetly, nodding my head in Tabitha’s direction. Both Abs and Adam step up and integrate themselves with the others while Gerard takes my elbow and guides me around the pieces of work either made by me, or under my direction.

The flowers are still by far the best although he stops by the Medusa head I made in honour of Elijah’s grandmother. Earthenware and rugged, she’d got a fierceness about her that reminds me of the first time I met her and she asked which of her grandsons I planned to fuck.

I snigger a little and Gerard shoots me a questioning look.

“Nothing. Just remembering something Connie Fairclough said to me,” I explain.

“Did it melt your face off? That woman is as acidic as they come.”

I chuckle and glance about the room, my eyes searching out Elijah.

“You’re different, you know that?”

I settle my attention back on Gerard. “What do you mean?”

“Look at you, an exhibition to celebrate what you’ve achieved.” He nudges my elbow. “So far. And you aren’t panicking being surrounded by strangers. I think this is a good thing, Faith.”

“Yeah?” My heart pounds in my chest, under my swirls of ink I’ve always hidden beneath, but which are now showing my stories to everyone.

“Although obviously I’m gutted I wasn’t the one who created the change.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Married?”

“Separated.”

“Maybe you’ll tell me what happened one day? At the moment I’m convincing myself you are separated because you have a thing for shagging students.”

He rolls his eyes, but we are interrupted by a light touch against the bare skin of my elbow. “It’s time for speeches.” Elijah’s low voice rumbles along my senses.

“Oh God, I don’t have to speak, do I?”

Gerard sniggers and winks at me. “Maybe you haven’t changed that much.”

I poke my tongue out and turn to face Elijah. He is smiling, relaxed and confident. The man who stole my heart. Away from his family he’s a different person, the man I want to know.

So what if I never see his family again. So what if they don’t know about me?

Maybe I’ve changed enough not to be angry and disappointed with what happens around me.

Maybe I have the control. For once.

I lean forward, brushing my lips close to his cheek. “Will you take me home tonight?”

The blues stare at me long and hard, intense and surprised. There’s no mistaking what I mean by home.

He nods and then clasps his hand in mine and leads me towards the area that’s been built into a stage. Frances and Damien are waiting for me there and they both give me a kiss and a hug, but I’m focused on the tall man by my side, strong and powerful. He is all encompassing.

He’s right. This isn’t about seconds. It’s about all the firsts.