This shit seriously can’t be happening to me.

I don’t know whether to march for the door or scream at him to go. What I do want is to punch him so damn hard his perfect nose never looks the same.

He’s watching me, one eyebrow raised, those blues I’ve been trying to forget trained on my face. And is he goddamn smirking?

Almost in a daze I turn to Angela. “I’m sorry, Angela, this isn’t going to work for me.”

Angela’s face falls, and she looks confused and not all that amused. “Is there a problem here?”

I’d fucking say.

“I’m sorry to waste your time.”

Curse it, but I’m walking away. There is nothing in this world that will make me spend time with him.

After I’ve battled through the crowds and stepped out on the street, my heels clacking against the pavement, I feel his touch on my elbow.

“Running again, Faith?”

My fist connects with a satisfying crunch on his face as I turn and round into his space. “Fuck off, Elijah. You are one sick bastard. Is this funny to you?”

Those eyes, shit they burn as they appraise my face, sweeping across the surface of my bubbling emotions. “I can assure you, Faith, there is nothing amusing to me right now.”

“Why are you here, then? Go back to your fiancé and do whatever you need to do. Fuck her brains out for all I care.”

“What are you talking about?” He takes a step closer and my lungs squeeze like they want to collapse. I hold my hand out to stop his approach.

“No. Don’t come any closer. Don’t talk to me. Don’t, anything.”

He scrubs a hand through his short hair and my fingers itch as the skin across my palms remembers all too well what it feels like. “This explains a lot,” he mutters, but I’m not having it. I’m not having a conversation with him about anything. I go to walk away, but his voice rings after me.

“So, when we agreed that we’d be nothing serious, that it was just fun, you lied?”

Is he for real? I wonder how long I’d serve in jail for pushing him in front of a passing car. I’d do it.

“You are the one who lied, Elijah.” I almost fly over the pavement as I jab my finger into his chest. His eyes widen with surprise. He’s too close. His smell whirls around my head, all soap and outdoors. “You lied when you said you loved me. You’re the one who changed the rules.”

He catches my wrist in his hand, circling his fingers easily around the bone. “I never lie.” He holds me still and I want to fight him, but I’m frozen. “Now.” His voice is low, serious and harsh. “Don’t ruin everything. This project could be the most exciting invite you ever get. Don’t run away from it.”

“I’m not running away from it, you arrogant pig. I’m running away from you and your fucked up head games.” We are gaining an audience, but I don’t care. “And while we are at it, give me my bloody work back, it’s mine not yours.”

His lips tease into a smile. “No. You produced that work while under contract at Bowsley. A contract you didn’t complete because you left before the end of the project.”

My eyes stalk out of my head. “Let go of me, Elijah.”

He drops my hand. Part of me hates the fact he relinquished me so quickly. Part of me is grateful.

“Stay for your meeting, Faith.” The glance he casts my way is hurt. What the fuck has he got to be hurt about?

His mood shifts so fast I can’t keep up with him. Not that I ever could.

He turns and walks away, his hands jammed in the trousers of his suit. My chest almost caves as I watch him.

He still didn’t say sorry.

For a long moment I stand in the street, wondering what to do. Angela is going to think I’m off my head the way things are going. I am off my head.

I don’t know what to do.

Do I go in and apologise? Do I consider a project where Elijah Fairclough is the backer, even if it could mean television and high exposure? This could be the start of everything.

My gaze falls on Elijah’s retreating form. That was everything. And it’s walking away again.

With a hard swallow, I hold my head as high as I can possibly manage and walk back into the bar. Angela is still there, sipping her wine, her eyes on the screen of an iPad. “Sorry,” I say when I get back to the table.

She eyes me, then slides my glass over. “You look like you could do with this.”

I nod and smile gratefully, swigging the wine down in nearly one go. “You could say that.”

“He’s a fine-looking man, isn’t he?” she states the obvious with no shame.

“Yeah, I guess.”

I slide into a seat and hope that maybe this meeting might finally start.

“And you two, you were lovers?”

I almost choke as I start to sip on my second glass of wine.

“Temporarily. Now he’s getting married and I’m talking to you about television.”

Her mouth opens to speak, but I’d rather we moved this on, so I hold my hand up. “Can we just talk about the project?”

She nods and holds her glass up to clink with mine. The gentle chime of glass tinkles between us. “Sounds good.”

We both take a sip of our drinks and I try to settle the butterflies thrashing about in my stomach like they are trapped under a net.

“So, Fart Off,” she says, and I immediately begin to giggle.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude the other week when I said that.”

She grins and shakes her head. “No. It’s fine. I like you. If we wanted someone boring and predictable we’d go poaching over at the BBC.

I shrug. One thing they are guaranteed with me is unpredictable.

***

IT’S LATE WHEN I SLIP out of the black cab. And slip I do, my stupid stilettos no longer functioning under two shared bottles of wine. Angela is nice, she’s got a cheeky edge which speaks to my dangerous edge.

“You okay, love?” The cabbie turns and looks at me on the floor.

“Yep, yep I think so.” I wave at him. “Just go. My front door is right there.”

The cabbie’s face creases with concern, but I give him another little wave with my fingers. “I’m fine, seriously. I’m just going to tell my shoes to work and then I’ll be.’ I point to the upstairs window. I can’t be arsed to finish my sentence.

“Okay, miss.” He leans over and shuts the door and I watch as he shifts back into the quiet evening traffic. Although it’s London, so it’s never truly quiet. With a groan, I slip off my shoes. Maybe I should leave them out here. They are clearly faulty.

My phone beeps from inside my bag and I pop it onto my lap, rooting through it. It’s only a clutch, how hard can a phone be to find? Once the contents are spilled on the pavement next to me, I grab my phone and peer at the screen.

It’s Angela. Hope you get home safe. My head hurts already. Next time we will have coffee during the day.

I start trying to type back. None of the letters look like words I know.

Now my phone’s broken. Shit.

Another message beeps while I’m still trying to type. If I shut one eye, it’s a little clearer.

I was thinking about something you said. And I know it’s not my business but...

I wait for another message. What! Where has she gone? What was she going to say?

My arse aches on the hard floor. I need to get into the apartment. I stuff my belongings back into my bag and crawl towards the door and then pull myself up against the doorframe.

Halfway up the stairs my phone beeps from inside my bag. Well it can bloody wait now.

My front door key has expanded while I’ve been out and won’t fit in the lock.

Eventually the door opens and Lewis looks at me, his eyebrows somewhere near his messy boy hair.

“How long does your hair take?” I reach for a strand of it. How does it stay up like that? “You blow dry, right?”

“Tabs, she’s pissed as a fart,” he calls over his shoulder.

There’s a chuckle and Tabitha comes into the small hallway. This place is tiny. I don’t think we can all fit in.

“Jeez, Faith. I thought it was business meeting with Channel 4?”

I point my finger in Tabitha’s direction. “Did you know?”

“Know what?

My phone beeps again and my pointed finger turns into a wag. “Don’t run off. We are still talking.”

I stare at my phone. The words aren’t in English. I don’t think they are of the planet Earth.

“What the fuck does this say?” I thrust my phone at no one in particular.

Lewis clears his throat and I squint in his direction. “What?”

“I’m kinda scared of you. And you said under no circumstances were we to say his name.”

“Uh,” I shrug dramatically but I have no control over my body and my arms fly around my head like a helicopter. “What does that loser want?”

“No.” Lewis is looking at Tabitha and she’s nodding at him. What is this, some secret bloody code? “It’s from Angela Bartlett.”

“Oh goody, she had something to tell me.” The wall is so comfy right now. I slide down it slowly as it caresses my back. That feels good. My feet hurt.

“She says,” he hesitates. “You said Elijah Fairclough was getting married, but he’s not. Why don’t you know that?”

I look up at Tabitha and Lewis as I continue sliding down the wall. My butt’s on the floor, my mouth hanging wide open. “What the shit?”

I could just close my eyes for a moment. If I just sleep right now, then I think all of this will make sense.

Nope. Not happening.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

Tabitha drops to the floor next to me. Her hand clutching mine. “Faith, you’re drunk. Let’s talk in the morning.”

“No, no, no.” I shake her hand, holding it between us. “She’s wrong, right? Elijah stood on that stage with her.” A little bit of white wine sick floods my mouth. “He said...”

“What did he say, Faith? What did you stay to hear?”

“Why isn’t he engaged?” My head shakes from side to side. “He’s marrying her, he chose the family.”

“Um. No, he’s not getting married.”

I scramble from the floor. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Gerard tell me?”

Tabitha sends me a ‘don’t shit with me’ glare. I think Abi taught her how to do it. “You said you didn’t want his name mentioned.”

“Uh. Well, yes. But ground-breaking news... Come on...”

“Nope.” Lewis pipes up. “I distinctly remember the moment we got to Brighton you told us you didn’t want to hear his name.”

“So, he’s not marrying... her?”

“No. As soon as you smashed that heart, he jumped off the stage and that was the last we saw of him at the ball. Mum was furious. Sienna bowed out, honest I think she knew, then two weeks later Mum was ranting. I mean she was on the verge of a breakdown. Said he’d disgraced the family one last time. Grandma won’t talk to him.” Tabitha talks so fast I can barely focus on one word she says to the next. They whorl about in my head like a word game I can’t win.

“But... but...” I rub at my face. “What the fuck is happening here?”

“I don’t know, Faith. I don’t know what happened, but I think Elijah was trying to give you a sporting chance to meet some contacts before he told Mum and she threw the mother of all hissy fits.”

My eyes focus, and I watch a small smile curve Tabitha’s lips. “Of course, Mum had her own plan in place. In the true Fairclough way.”

“But, why hasn’t he come and told me? Why hasn’t he explained? Why?”

“Faith. You smashed a giant glass heart and then ran away.” Her hand squeezes mine. “And I’m thinking he feels pretty shit.”

“So this is why he hasn’t said sorry?”

“Sorry? What?”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Go where?”

Using all the force of my arms, I manage to push my way back up off the floor. Lewis grabs me and hauls me the rest of the way up. “Come on, Faith. Let’s talk in the morning when your head is clearer and you don’t stink of wine and fags.”

I fight my way out of his hold with my elbows. “No.”

I swing back out of the door and slip my way down the stairs. It’s okay, my arse hurt anyway. Out in the street there’s no cab with a yellow light on in sight.

But it’s okay, I can walk to Kensington from here.

I don’t know where he will be. He was at the bar, then I sent him away... and he looked at me...

Where the fuck are my shoes?

Bollocks.

I’m... Well actually I don’t know where I am, when the hum of an engine idles in the road next to where I’m trying to look at Google Maps on my phone. Kensington has evaporated. It’s a problem.

“Faith, what the hell are you doing?”

It’s him. His eyes search over the sight of me as he opens the passenger door of the MG Roadster.

“I’m coming to yours.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you want me to?” My hands go to my hips. I’m tired. How far have I walked?

His phone rings and he turns to answer it, leaving me stood in the street. “Yes, I’ve got her.”

I might as well keep walking. I take another few steps until the car pulls up again. Not that I stop, I just plod along. Although with every step the pavement becomes harder under my feet and there’s a pretty nasty taste of wine and old cigarettes on my tongue.

“I can’t believe...” I might as well just talk. “I can’t believe that I’ve spent the last what, three weeks, thinking you were marrying someone else. You could have told me. Text me. Anything.”

I can’t think of those first few days after Al died. I brush at a stray tear which splatters down my cheek.

“Fuck, Elijah. You were the first man I’ve ever truly trusted, and you did that. And then Al died, and left me, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what hurt most.” Glancing to the right I see his car is no longer there.

I don’t care, though. It feels good. My chest, bound so tight for weeks, is starting to move, starting to breathe.

“And then Tabitha. I mean, I had enough going on. I love her, I do, but I was facing all sorts of shit. My dad, and Aiden. And then with D—”

Fingers catch my elbow and spin me round. My head is clear.

And it’s Elijah, he’s there. His suit of earlier is now a navy T-shirt and jeans. His hair so short, his eyes so bright, it’s all him.

My breath comes in ragged gasps. His hands are in my hair, his thumb on my jaw. “I’ve been waiting for you to work it out.”

“Work what out?”

He smiles. My stomach tightens, my fingers shake. “That there is no one else for me. It’s just you.”

“What?” A tear trickles down my cheek and he wipes at it with his thumb.

“It’s just you, Faith. It’s hurt, letting you grieve. You’ve no idea how guilty I’ve felt knowing you missed Al, because of me.”

“Why the hell didn’t you message me, call me, come to Brighton to find me?”

His lips press against my forehead and I breathe in the scent of him. Mingled with the warm London night air, he smells of tantalising promises.

“Things were complicated. I had a lot to sort out.  But I can’t lie, Faith. I wanted you to have time. I wanted you to fight for me, the way I was for you.”

“And I wanted you to fight for me.”

“I’ve never felt as shit as I did when I found out about Al.” He’s still not holding me properly. And it’s probably a good thing.

I need to breathe. I need to think. All of this, and it wasn’t anything... I just can’t.

“Elijah. I don’t do seconds you know that.”

“And I don’t do girlfriends, Faith, you know that.”

“What does that mean?” My heart constricts.

“It means that nothing is as it should be. Nothing that was, is the same. We’ve changed each other.”

I need to sit down. Like right now. The pavement seems good, so I fold my legs and try to make sense of everything. He sits beside me, but not before reaching his hand into his pocket and pulling out the black tear shaped diamond he gave me the night before the ball. The one I’d left in the pink bedroom he’d painted for me at Bowsley.

“This is yours.”

“I’m not accepting it.”

“It’s still yours, though. So wear it, don’t wear it. It can sit in a box at my house if necessary. But it’s still yours.”

“You really aren’t getting married?” In a moment of crumbling weakness, I let tears fall down my face as I lean against him, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him. It’s just once, just one blip and then I’ll be strong again.

“How can I get married, when the woman I love is sat right here and refusing to wear my ring?”