Chapter 27
Eliza
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask with surprise when I finish my shift and come out of Roxy’s to see Angus’s Land Rover parked on double yellow lines. It’s eleven thirty, which is later than usual for a Monday night.
‘Can I give you a ride home?’ he asks through the open window. He sounds on edge.
‘Sure,’ I reply hesitantly, wondering if something is wrong.
He looks stressed as he reaches across the passenger seat and opens the door for me. I go around to the other side of the car and climb in, glancing at him. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’ He nods and starts up the ignition, pulling away from the kerb. Nerves pulse through me when I realise that we haven’t even kissed each other hello. Does he regret what happened between us? Is he going to be the one to end it this time?
When I left him this morning, I told him I was going to go to the graveyard. He didn’t take the news well. His lips formed a dead-straight line and he could barely look at me.
‘Is that really necessary?’ he asked.
‘I feel like I want to say something to her,’ I told him.
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know, Angus, but it’s nothing for you to be concerned about.’
He didn’t seem convinced, but he had to get into work so we bade each other farewell and that was the last I’ve heard or seen of him all day.
I wasn’t sure when we’d be able to hook up again. With my late-night shifts and his daytime ones, we’re not going to cross over a whole lot. Unless he comes out late like this and risks Rose getting suspicious... We’re going to have to tell her sooner or later. If we’re still together.
‘What are you thinking?’ Angus asks.
‘Nothing,’ I reply.
‘You just sighed. What were you sighing about?’
‘Rose,’ I reply quietly. ‘And us.’
I swivel in my seat to face him, studying his side profile in the street lamps as we pass. From light to shade, orange to black.
‘Do you have any regrets?’ I ask in a small voice.
He glances at me and then flicks his indicator on, pulling up on the kerb.
‘No,’ he says firmly. He kisses me gently, but my lips part and I breathe in sharply, wanting more. ‘Do you?’ he whispers, hovering just millimetres from my mouth. He doesn’t deepen the kiss like I’d like him to.
‘No.’
We drive the rest of the way in silence and the atmosphere is charged. Last night, when we had sex, we’d been drinking. Tonight we are both stone-cold sober.
‘Come up?’ I ask uncertainly when we arrive at my apartment.
We walk side by side into the building. I press the button for the lift, and he conducts his usual examination of the graffiti in the lobby, the incongruous stains on the lino and the flickering fluorescent light over our heads.
A few minutes later, we’re inside my apartment and I’m closing the door behind him.
‘Michelle’s staying at her boyfriend’s tonight,’ I say hesitantly.
He nods, taking my hands. We stand, staring at each other for a long moment. I still feel guilty. I can’t help it. I just hope it doesn’t eat me up.
I make the tiniest jerk of my head in the direction of my bedroom. He gives me the smallest nod in return.
We’re both uneasy as we stand at the foot of my bed. I slide my arms around his waist, my hands skimming over the taut body underneath his T-shirt. He used to swim to keep fit. I’m guessing he still does.
He’s so manly, so different to the boy I kissed almost a decade ago. And the way he was with me last night... That was very different from our heated fumblings as teenagers, too. But then I remember that the experience he has garnered over the years is down to Phoebe, and an unpleasant cold flush comes over me.
‘Wait,’ I whisper as his lips touch my jaw.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I can’t— I’m thinking.’
The look on his face as he steps away from me is one of weary resignation. He knew this was going to happen.
‘Come on,’ he says quietly, taking my hand and walking towards the door.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask, confused.
‘To the living room. We’re just going to talk.’
‘Really?’ I pull a face as I hurry after him.
He tugs me down to one of the sofas, bringing me close so I’m nestled against his body with his arms around my waist. I can’t see his face, but I can feel his chest vibrating as he speaks.
‘Maybe we should slow this down,’ he says gently. ‘I don’t want to screw it up.’
‘But we’ve already had sex,’ I say a touch indignantly, tensing under his fingers.
‘I know. We were drunk.’
I blush, and now I’m glad he’s not looking at me.
‘But the next time we go to bed together,’ he continues, ‘I think we should be sober, and we both need to be totally okay about it.’
Now the urge to look at him is too great. ‘Are you not okay with it?’ I’m suddenly fearful as I twist round to look at him.
He pushes a strand of hair back from my face, staring at my forehead instead of my eyes.
‘No, I can tell that you’re not.’ My voice wavers.
‘Not completely,’ he whispers, pulling me back against his chest. ‘But I will be. I promise I will be.’
By now there’s a lump in my throat. ‘It was too soon.’
‘Maybe. But it felt right. I don’t want you to have any regrets.’
‘I don’t,’ I reply. ‘Do you?’
‘Not at all,’ he replies firmly, drawing me tighter. ‘I’ve loved you for a long time.’
We both fall silent, but my mind is ticking over ten to the dozen.
Eventually I ask the question that’s on my lips. ‘How could you love Phoebe and me at the same time? I don’t understand.’
‘See, this is why we need to do this,’ he says as I turn to face him again. I edge away slightly from him on the sofa. He meets my gaze apprehensively. ‘There’s so much we haven’t talked about.’
I know he’s right. This is going to eat away at me if we don’t get it out in the open. Jealousy is an even more powerful emotion than guilt.
‘Phoebe and I got serious so quickly,’ he says, reaching over to take one of my hands. ‘It’s surprising, when I think about it in hindsight. Living next door to each other escalated things, but I was always curious about you.’
‘Not Rose?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘It was different with Rose. I liked her a lot, but I didn’t feel drawn to her in the same way that I did with you.’
‘You and I barely even spoke,’ I say with a frown. ‘Not until the evening that you threw that ball of paper into my room.’
He smiles.
‘I kept the piece of paper,’ I tell him.
‘Did you?’ he asks with surprise.
‘I put it in my diary, the one that Rose stole,’ I reveal bitterly. ‘Did you know that she read about what we did in the tree house?’
His eyebrows jump up. ‘No.’
‘We had a massive row about it.’
‘But surely you’ve forgiven her now, right?’ he asks, perplexed. ‘That can’t be why you’ve fallen out for so long?’
‘No,’ I reply with a sigh. ‘Rose and I have always rubbed each other up the wrong way. That argument was a long time coming. But now she just reminds me of Phoebe. It’s easier for us both if we stay away from each other.’
Angus gives me a dejected smile and squeezes my hand. I slide closer and rest my face against his chest as his arm comes around me. We stay like that for a long time.