“He was always there.” We are walking to the flat, the makings of a roast dinner in plastic bags in our hands and I’m trying my hardest to talk. “After Aiden, I- I went to a bad place. I was dangerous, living without a care. But Dan always held me together. Made me accountable to him.”

Eli nods, his eyes flashing over my face.

“He fought all my battles. I can’t tell you the amount of guys he’s punched on my behalf. I stopped counting.”

“Sounds like your knight in shining armour.”

I cast him a side-eye and shake my head. He’s my knight in shining armour. Okay, his noble steed tends to gallop through and destroy things, but he’s the one who finally pulled me free.

“When I told him about Aiden, I thought he would tear down the town. He left me with Al and didn’t come home for hours. I thought he was going to get himself killed.”

“But you’ve always just been friends?”

“Yes, the three of us.”

We are nearing the flat and Eli stops, his gaze settled heavy on my face. “Maybe you should invite him up, he could stay with us while he sorts himself out.”

“Uh, that’s nice, but I don’t reckon he wants to leave Brighton right now; it’s keeping him close to Al.”

My words focus on what Eli just said. “What do you mean us? You know I still live here, right?”

He laughs, and it sounds delicious. His dimple on his right cheek deepens.

“Faith, you stay at mine every night.”

“Only because you don’t let me leave,” I grumble under my breath and turn for the door of my home.

He pulls me back, his lips on mine with that hot and hard kiss of his. “You keep telling yourself that.” He smiles against my mouth.

“Come on, chef, you’d better cook a mean roast.”

We are halfway up the old creaking stairs when I have a thought. “How can I officially live with you, when I don’t even know what your roast is like?”

“And if it’s good you’ll pack a suitcase today?”

Well, shit.

“I have very high standards.” I’m grinning wide, I can’t help it.

“So do I.”

I shake my head as we carry on up the stairs. There’s no way I can live with him permanently after just a couple of weeks. That would be crazy.

So why is there a little voice in my head questioning whether I can live anywhere else but with him?

“Yo, sick note.” We let ourselves in and I shout for Tabitha. “Are you still looking green and desperate?”

Our feet falter as we take the one step into the lounge and find Tabitha, her face blotchy and pale like strawberries squashed into cream.

“What on earth is wrong?” Eli is across the room in one step, dragging her into his arms and wrapping them in their firm hold. “Is it Lewis, where is he? Is he in trouble? Why didn’t you ring me?”

Eli is normally coolness personified, but there’s a tremble in his voice that’s impossible to ignore. It makes my stomach tighten until it twists painfully and the hairs on my arms stand like I’ve been electrocuted.

It’s so easy, in my own heartbreak and grief to forget that Eli is carrying the weight of the boy who lost his mum on his shoulders, too.

And he wants to live with me? I really can’t see why.

“I’m here.” Lewis steps out of the bathroom, rubbing his neck with a towel, dressed in faded jeans and a pale blue T-shirt. The blue accentuates pale shadows under his eyes. His face is also puffy.

“What the hell is going on?” I speak before Eli, stepping up to Lewis and staring him right in the eye, inspecting his face, the red rims around his eyes.

“Tabs lost the baby in the night. We’ve just got back from the hospital.”

The air just puffs out of my lungs. “What?”

Lewis scowls. “Want me to say it again?”

I shake my head. “No.” I stare wild eyed at Eli. Come on, this is your thing, you step up, smooth things, make it all better. You smile and the world is fixed... he’s hugging Tabitha, kissing her hair, whispering, and tears well up in my own eyes. How many tears am I going to shed today because it feels like they are never going to stop until I’m drowned and drawing my last breath.

“I am so sorry, Lewis.” He shrugs, but beneath the movement there’s a small little boy who aches and burns. “Why didn’t you call us?”

Lewis’ eyes fall on Eli. “I’ve got to step up, be a man.”

I shake my head. “No. Not always. We would have been there.” The emphasis on we isn’t lost; it echoes in my head.

Lewis shoves his fingers in the pocket of his jeans, but not before I catch them shaking. “It’s probably for the best. I mean, she’s eighteen; we don’t even know each other.”

Tabitha sobs harder.

“Hey.” I grab for Lewis’ arm.

“What, Faith? Are you going to tell me it will all be okay, and that young love will conquer all, or some other bullshit?”

I shake my head, reeling from his harsh words. “You’re singing from the wrong hymn sheet, Lewis. I don’t believe in young love, or any love for that matter. I believe in pain, and hurt, and darkness that shakes me until I no longer want to exist.” I can sense Eli’s gaze burning on me. “And I know terrible shit happens, all the damn time. Every damn moment of every day someone is hurting. Sometimes it’s me. Sometimes it’s you.”

Lewis holds his breath and I wait for him to explode. I know his fuse is short. But he doesn’t. He cries, rolling droplets of misery running down his face and I step up and hold him, cradling the angry man in my arms. Eli meets my gaze and we stare at one another.

“You know what?” I push Lewis away, so I can meet his red eyes. “I’m sorry. Sorry this keeps happening to you, sorry you keep losing things you love. But you and Tabs, you should celebrate the rest of forever today. I’ve seen you, those looks, the connection. I know nothing about love, but I can still see it. So, I think Eli should cook us all a bloody delicious dinner, and we should all get fucking drunk and give life two fingers.”

Lewis smiles, his body relaxing. He steps up and untangles Tabitha from Eli’s hold although the big brother doesn’t look like he’s willing to let her go.

Lewis holds her, raining kisses on her damp skin. “I never want to see you hurt again,” he whispers into her hair and my heart swells with pride and love. Eli watches me. He’s said those words to me.

Maybe. Just maybe, us four messed up souls can save one another.

I walk to the kitchen and root about for some form of alcohol, anything that will go down the hatch and help the ache.

When we all have a glass of Vermouth, undiluted, and Elijah is peering into the glass with a worried expression I call them to face me. “To love.”

And we all shout ‘cheers’ and knock it back. Then Eli goes into the kitchen and Lewis and I wrap Tabitha—who is still sporadically sobbing—up in a blanket on the couch and I make sure the alcohol keeps flowing for this new family of mine.

Family.

In the back of my mind I think of Dan and I wish I could envelope him in the moment, but he’s too far away, further than thirty-five miles of A roads.

I’m in Tesco, buying four bottles of wine, when my phone rings. I answer without thinking.

“Faith Hitchin?”

“Yes.” I frown at the selection of red’s, wondering if red even goes with roast chicken.

“This is Terry Dean from The Sun newspaper.”

I nearly drop a bottle.

“Yes. Why are you ringing?”

“We’ve had a story about you and Elijah Fairclough. Can you confirm you are his mistress?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Can you confirm you are Elijah Fairclough’s mistress? How will you feel when he walks Sienna Richards down the aisle?”

“He’s not getting married.”

There’s a pause where I can faintly hear the scratch of a pen against paper. “So it’s something you are worried about?”

“He’s not getting married.” My hand tightens on my phone.

“I’ve had confirmation from the Bowsley estate.”

I hang up. Then I pay for the wine and storm back the two streets to the flat.

I slam in, throwing the bags at Lewis who is nearly taken out by flying wine bottles and then march into the kitchen where Eli is rocking an apron.

“What the fuck, Elijah?” My hands smack against his chest, pushing him hard, curling into fists so tight my nails dig into my skin.

“What?” He catches my hand, entwining our fingers so I can’t punch him.

“Why have I just had The Sun fucking call me and ask how I feel as your mistress about you getting married?”

He sighs, but his face relaxes. “It’s headline scavenging, Faith.”

“Is this funny to you?” I try to free my hands, so I can smack him in his smirking face.

“No. I guess I’m just used to it.”

“The guy said he had a source, that he’d spoken to Bowsley.”

Elijah’s eyes finally harden. “Dean, I’m guessing?”

“Uh, yeah, Terry Dean.”

“Figured. He’s my mother’s favourite press snitch. But she wouldn’t have created the story, and she would never have used the word mistress. She hates that word, says it’s demeaning to high society.”

I almost laugh at her still believing in high society—what a bitch. I’m too angry to laugh though.

“Sorry, Faith. The leak about us hasn’t come from my side.”

“Who then? Steers?”

“I thought he didn’t know?”

“He doesn’t.” The fight leaves my body. Apart from the people in this flat, Lewis’ father, and Damien from Whitlocks, the only other people who know about Eli and I are Abi and... Dan.

Does he hate Elijah that much he’d sell me out to a gossip rag?

“Are you going to stop the story?” My voice wavers. This is all my fault. Well, Dan’s. But I guess he’s under my responsibility.

“Nope. Let it run. I’ve always wanted to have a mistress.” He chuckles and drops my hands. “Where’s the wine, Faith?”

“Is that it?” I stare at him aghast. “Tomorrow we are going to be in the paper. Tomorrow they are going to be saying you’re getting married to her again. And that I’m the mistress with tattoos dragging you down.”

“Why don’t you marry me?”

I’m sorry. What?

“Pardon?”

“If you marry me, then I can’t be accused of marrying someone else. It ends the problem with considerable finality, I’d say.”

“That’s not a proposal, that’s a business solution. It’s like you’re closing a deal at work.”

“Do you want me to propose?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“No!”

Oh, God, my heart. It’s trying to claw its way out of my chest. “You are impossible.”

He steps closer, toe to toe and I shiver as his breath brushes my ear. “One day. I will ask right, and you will say yes.”

“And your mother?” I widen my eyes, staring at the blues. “She’s just confirmed a lie to the press.”

He smiles. “I’ll go to Bowsley tomorrow.” He sighs, and I nearly melt as his body presses against mine. “I don’t want to live a lie with you. I want everyone to know you’re the one I love, the one that one day will be mine.”

My cursed legs shake. I turn, I need to get away from his words, from the whispered promises. Although yesterday didn’t I promise him everything until my last breath? Isn’t that marriage? And living together? All the things I’m scared of?

I find my carrier bag full of wine and drag one out, breaking the seal and just plugging it straight from the bottle. He laughs loud from the recess of the kitchen. “That’s a Fairclough right there, you are going to fit in perfect.”

“Your mother hates me.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“You’ll get cut off.”

“So I’ll have to pay for the sandwiches myself on a Saturday.”

“You’re really going to Bowsley tomorrow to battle your mother?”

“Will you shine my armour?”

Fuck, he’s stupid sometimes. I turn and find Tabitha watching us with a grin, despite the fact her eyes are still red. “I’m so glad you came that day,” she says, and snuggles further under her blanket. Lewis rubs her back, his eyes drifting over her with adoration.

“I really don’t understand why Peter doesn’t get the heat. What the fuck does he do?”

Tabitha turns a little, a frown creasing her forehead. “He’s the family black sheep, Faith.”

“No.” I roll my eyes. “That’s Eli, he’s the artist who was forced to become a lawyer.”

Eli walks through from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel and removes the bottle of wine from my hands. “No. It’s Peter. Remember I said Dad could never do what he wanted and neither could I?”

“Yes, but Peter is the eldest, the heir to the family fortune and name. When your mother passes from this mortal plane...” I don’t add that I’d rather it was sooner rather than later, but Eli’s lips quirk so he knows what I’m thinking. “He will be Baron.”

“Yes. But he won’t have children. My children will be the heirs even though I won’t have the title myself.”

“What? Why?” This makes no sense.

“Because he’s gay. As part of the inheritance of the title he’s not allowed to marry a person of the same sex nor produce heirs to the family name and fortune.”

My mouth hangs open. Lewis is mumbling about “Fucked up shit.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me this?”

Elijah takes a sip out of the bottle of wine. “You try telling the person you’ve fallen insanely in love with that their children will have to endure a lifetime of rules at hands of the Faircloughs.”

“Your mother would never allow it. There is no chance she’d ever let you have children with me.”

“It’s not up to her. It’s the rules, they are in place. Even if I’m cut off, my children are still heirs.”

“This is insane. I don’t even know if I want children. I didn’t exactly have a safe childhood, knowing this isn’t going to make me want them any more.”

I’m twenty-four. Why am I talking about having kids... that’s for years away... if ever...

“So tomorrow if you get cut off, it doesn’t matter. We will marry and our children will be under the Fairclough precedent even though we don’t live by their rules and are no longer part of the family?”

He nods. The delphinium blues say it all.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Before you even told me you loved me, you should have said so I could choose.”

“So you could run away?”

“Yes!” I throw my hands in the air.

“You promised to never run. You swore it until your last breath.”

“You absolute fucker.” I did. I promised him everything. My life, my love, my everything.

“Do you break promises, Faith?”

“No.” I scowl.

“Good. Me neither. And I know we can face this. I love you. I love every prospective moment we are going to share. With or without the Faircloughs.”

“But they are always going to be there. Always ruining everything. Your mother and her games.” I shudder. “And your grandmother.”

“Well then it’s time I close a deal with them.”

His eyes are fierce.

“Eli.”

His hands grip my arms firm and determined, and I shiver as memories of last night in the hallway wash over me. “Don’t you dare run.” His voice leaves no room for argument. 

It takes everything in me, but somehow, I manage to stand still while the man I love holds me in place and keeps me close to his heart.