He’s gone when I wake, a note left on his pillow. Love you, Sunshine.

I roll over in bed and grab my phone, dialling his number.

“Please tell me you haven’t just woken up.”

“Maybe.” What’s the point in lying?

He chuckles, and it darts desire all over my skin.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk last night,” I say.

“That depends on your definition of talking.”

“You know, words that come out of your mouth.”

“I had words coming out of my mouth. Your name, over and over again.” His voice is low, enchanting, and my body reacts with a wave of desire.

“True. But you know what I mean.”

“You want to know what deal I brokered?”

“Well, yes.” Damn he’s so direct.

“I didn’t. I turned up, told them that nothing was going to change my mind, and either they let it go and welcomed you at my side, or they wouldn’t be seeing me that much anymore.”

“I thought they weren’t anyway.”

“It’s the Faircloughs. I tend to find it’s sporadic.”

I hate the fact he has to talk with so much bitterness about his family, but then don’t I? I can’t even be in the same room as my dad and I don’t plan for that to ever change. I shrug to myself and let the worry evaporate.

“I went to see Tabs yesterday. She’s still at the flat.”

“I know. Thank you. How was she? I still can’t believe it’s all over. It was so sudden, one minute there and then the next gone.”

I pause for a breath. “I guess, but she’s young, Eli, so young. Abi and Adam had Charlotte young, but they were solid, they could carry each other through. I don’t know if Lewis is there yet. I don’t know if Tabitha is, I mean she’s hardly had the most stable of upbringings.” It’s ironic how messed up their upbringing has been. Behind closed doors it’s left a lot to be desired.

“Anyway, she’s thinking of getting a job. Something non-Fairclough like.”

“Like?” There’s a smile in his voice.

“Topshop, New Look, something young and stress free.”

“Young and stress free? Maybe you should teach her how to ink?”

“Well that would please your mother. Anyway, it’s not that simple; it’s something that is just inside you.”

“Have you seen her doodles?”

“No. Talking about painting, I haven’t seen you start anything new.”

“Well, I didn’t realise just how time consuming having a girlfriend and keeping a girlfriend would be.”

I snort a little, stretching my toes. I wish he was here. I wish it was the weekend and we had every moment together.

“How’s Melanie Duncan’s case coming along?” I know he’s balancing his corporate law with his pro-bono case for Lewis’ mum, plus... keeping me, usually on the edge of a screaming orgasm, and that doesn’t include dealing with his mother and his witch of a grandmother.

“Not great, we’ve lost a witness.”

“How come? Actually, wait. How about you tell me tonight over dinner?”

“Dinner?” He’s smiling, his words liquefying and running with honey. “As in a dinner date, out in the open, with people seeing us?”

My stomach tightens. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like with all eyes on us, now we are tabloid fodder. “Yes. Can you be home for eight?”

“Eight... do you want me to be sacked for leaving early?”

I chuckle. “Eight thirty, no later.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Bye, Eli.” I go to hang up, a stupid grin smeared across my face.

“Love you, Faith.” He says it louder, clearer.

“Love you.”

I hang up and stare at the ceiling for a moment. I still can’t believe this is happening.

But it is.

Elijah and I.

Uni is full of lectures and I try to focus, but I can’t. I’m torn between spiralling thoughts of the Tate and worries about what the hell happens now Jennifer Fairclough knows about us.

I’ve forgotten about Gerard wanting to talk to me until he catches me sneaking from the library and the fine art collection for a cigarette break.

“I hope you aren’t ditching class, just because you are a higher flyer these days.”

“Nope, just stopping myself from falling asleep. I don’t know why we have to do these ridiculous essays about history.”

Gerard groans and follows me out of the gates to lean against the railings. I spark up a smoke, not bothering to offer him one. “Not this again. I’ve told you at least a hundred and twenty-five times it’s essential to understand the science behind creation.”

I drag on my cigarette and puff clouds of white into the air above our heads. “So, I’m telling you for the one hundred and twenty-sixth time it’s as boring as fuck.”

“So, you and Elijah again?” He stares at me intently. “I should have guessed it wasn’t over when he convinced us to let you back in.”

“He did?”

Gerard grimaces a little. “Yes, very convincing case he put forward explaining it was the stress of the Fairclough project that made you act hastily.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really? Well, you know that’s not the truth.”

Gerard’s face falls, and it’s like kicking an eager puppy bouncing at my knees. “Let’s just move on, hey?”

His pale blue eyes meet mine. “You’re changing.”

“Hopefully in a good way.” I drag on my smoke. Awkward.

“Don’t trust them, Faith.”

“Gerard, I appreciate your concern, but it’s misplaced.”

His head shakes from side to side. “I was best friends with Peter at school. I knew about him; it was always glaring obvious he wasn’t a man’s man.” He dips his head for a moment and studies the pavement before lifting it higher and staring at me. “We were close. I was confused, Peter was experimenting.”

What the shit?

“So now you aren’t only married, stroke separated, now you are gay, too. Come on, Gerard.”

His face is deadly serious though and my stomach pinches. “It was a phase, experimental if you like, but he was my best mate and the Faircloughs hammered him into what they wanted him to be; no consideration for what he was.”

Sighing, I stub my cigarette out. “I don’t know what to say, Gerard.”

“Don’t say anything, just know what you are letting yourself in for. Elijah will fight for you. Of course he will, he’s a good man, but he won’t be able to protect you. They can’t even protect themselves.”

I nod, my heart aching and hollow. “I’ve got to go back to the library.”

“Yeah.” He leans against the metal railing but shows no sign of moving. “See you, Faith. You’re a bright star. You’re going to be so successful. Just remember who you are.”

“Like I can ever forget.” I give him a small wave and head back to the library, but my focus is lost; not that I had any in the first place. It’s not long until I find my way back to the studio in Elijah’s garden. There I sit and dream of shattered dreams and empty places.

“Hey.” The door clicks; it’s almost dark outside. Autumn is pushing itself in, and soon the clocks will be changing and night will fall in the afternoon. I slip off my stool and wipe my hands on a towel, padding across the space and sliding my fingers into Eli’s hair. My mouth meets his, and I breathe in his scent of soap, outside, and office supplies, mingled with the faint trace of aftershave. “I’m home for my date,” he mumbles against my mouth.

“I’m not ready.” I cringe. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

His eyes fall over my shoulder, his fingertips still cradling my face. “What is that?”

I turn and look at the shards of glass I’ve been making. Towering and dominating the look, more Krypton than Kensington Mews. “I was playing with ideas for the Tate, I want to highlight the homelessness in the city. How unwelcoming it is, how dark.” The black glass shards are sharp, angled, not meant to be sat on. “I wasn’t sure if they would work so I’ve been practising. And I’m not going to lie, it was harder than I thought.”

He shrugs. “If it’s hard, it means it’s worth it.” The delphinium blues dance across my face.

I’ve been working on something else, but it’s safely stowed in the pocket of my apron.

“Question.” His lips twitch. “Do you plan to attend dinner in just a sports bra and a pair of jogging bottoms, not that you don’t look edible how you are?”

I flush. What has happened to me? It’s pathetic.

“I need to shower. I’ll be quick I promise.” I screech as his strong hands land on my waist and lift me from the floor, tipping me over his shoulder.

Then our date starts with a shower only Eli knows how to perform.

I’m chuckling as I stare at him over the chequered tablecloth. I’ve bought him to the cheesiest Italian restaurant in London, but with the best spaghetti. It’s true cheese, Chianti bottles covered in wax and holding candles light the small space and the sound of the chefs shouting in Italian in the kitchen is louder than the strained notes coming from the violinist in the corner. It’s a true gem.

Not The Ritz.

“So, they want to make it my final piece of my degree.”

Eli snaps a breadstick with his long fingers. “That sounds like more work than the average student will be doing.”

I nod my head, brandishing my own breadstick decorated with a splodge of butter. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

Eli’s eyes narrow. “Seems like they are going to utilise their most famous student while they still have her.”

“I’m not their most famous student.” I flush, not that it makes much difference, the restaurant is so hot I’m sweating anyway.

He arches an eyebrow. “Anyone else in the paper on Monday?”

“That was gossip, nothing to do with art.”

He shrugs. “So, it’s got nothing to do with it. Inch space in a paper is inch space in a paper, it doesn’t matter what it’s for.”

“Well that sounds depressing and cynical.”

A slow smile lifts his lips. “Just as well you saved me.”

We are interrupted by the arrival of our pasta which Elijah looks at dubiously. I ordered for the both of us, while he sat back and watched me with his burning gaze, sipping his cheap Italian red, looking so beautiful he made the words on the menu swim.

“I promise it’s nice.” I chuckle a little. “It’s the best pasta I’ve ever had.”

“Eileen makes good pasta.”

“You serve pasta at Bowsley? Surely not. I thought it was all meat and two veg.”

“No, Sunshine, that’s what I serve you.”

I fan myself down and giggle. “Mr Fairclough, we are in public.” Our toes meet under the table, pushing against one another’s feet and I could almost burst, my chest is so full of disgusting happiness.

He twirls some pasta and pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully until he nods as he swallows. “It’s good. I’ll have to tell Eileen to learn smoked salmon with vodka and cream.”

“It sounds like she looked after you a lot.”

He shrugs again but then when he sees my intent gaze on his face his shoulders relax. “The kitchen was a good place, warm, welcoming. I used to sit at the table and do my homework and Eileen would serve me up pancakes for every page I completed.”

A slow smile spreads on my lips. I can imagine it so well.

“Sounds good.”

“You never mention your mum, Faith.” His eyes stare at me widely, pulling my past from within me like only he can.

“What’s to say? She left. She didn’t want to live her life in a tattoo shop and she didn’t want a daughter chasing around her heels.”

We stare at one another long and hard. Two children abandoned, still running from the pain.

“Anyway, I don’t want to hash over the past. Tell me what happened to the witness you lost. It’s a bit careless if you ask me.”

He doesn’t laugh at my lame joke. I don’t blame him.

“She doesn’t want to take the stand. She knows future employers will know about it.”

“So, she’s going to stay quiet?”

“To Melanie’s case. We are back to nothing again and due in court in a couple of weeks.”

“That soon? It’s come around quick.”

He nods but I can sense a weight hanging behind his eyes.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m letting her down. I’ve been distracted, not at my best.”

My tongue dries. “Because of me.”

He shakes his head, his hand reaching for mine. “No, because of everything.”

“I’m sorry.”

I fork up some pasta and chew slowly to give myself some space. “If it happened to Melanie, it must have happened to someone else.”

My heart is crashing in my chest. I’ve thought about this over and over again the last few years. In the back of my head with every touch of the ink machine has been a small voice, barely heard asking, ‘who else is suffering?’

For a long time—until Eli—I couldn’t think of any pain other the one I contained. The pain was all mine.

“If there are, no one is coming forward.”

“But they might not know what happened to Melanie, maybe they’ve taken themselves as far away as possible.” My cheeks burn, and he watches me closely.

“You are worried Aiden has hurt someone else?”

I hate the way he says his name. I hate the fact there is a man between us I can’t get rid of.

“Sometimes I think about it. It’s hard. When my dad refused to believe me, I questioned it myself. Maybe I had asked for it. Maybe I had said yes.”

“But you didn’t.”

My breath catches. “No. I didn’t.” My brain whirls fast. “But I ran away. I left. I never saw what he did next.”

“You think someone might have left the firm who could be a witness to what goes on there?”

“I think it might be worth investigating.”

“And you’re an artist not a lawyer? I have teams working on this and no one has thought about it. We’ve been looking at the now, at Melanie and what she went through.”

I shrug. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about such matters, I guess. Eli?” A question pops into my mind. “If this is a pro-bono case and nothing to do with corporate law, who is footing the bill?”

“Well technically it is corporate law. The company are our clients.”

“What?”

His eyes dance. “The Fairclough trust extends far and wide. And if I’m going to go down, then I’ll take those bastards down with me.”

“You’re acting against your own client? Isn’t that against the law?”

He shrugs.

This man.

Embarrassingly my eyes swim with sudden tears.

“Good grief, please don’t cry on our date. It would make it an epic fail of vast proportions.”

I swipe at my face, smiling, fighting the tide of emotions that threaten to sweep me away. “I can’t believe if I hadn’t forced myself into The Ritz that day I would never have known this. It’s scary.”

“What’s scary?” his voice lowers, his gaze burningly intense.

“Everything.”

Our plates are taken away though I’ve barely touched my food. I plug hard at my wine, draining my glass. “I made you something.”

He swirls his own drink, dancing ruby liquid inside cheap glass.

“You made me something? What?” His grin is electric.

“A promise.” I dig into the pocket of my jeans. I’m not breathing. My lungs are empty and deflated. I hold my hand out, my fingers clenched around the small trinket. “I know what you are risking for me. I know what it’s taking for us to be together.” My heart... will it just stop with the racing and the thrumming. I want to wash away, exposed and fractured, but I cling on to my promise. “This is to say I won’t run.” I open my palm revealing the gold twisted ring I created in our studio. Silver and gold entwine, rough edged and raw.

“This is me.” I point to the silver. “And this is you.” My fingers slide along the gold. “I don’t know whether it will fit, I had to guess, but I can fix it; you know, smelt it down and start again.”

“Faith—” He stands catching me, making me rise with him, his fingers slipping along my jaw. “I love you.”

“Forever.”

And my heart soars, flying free, set loose from the cage I’ve hidden it in. The cage disintegrates with it, scattering in the dust of the past as his lips search mine, seeking out everything that I am.