Page 85 of Pride and Privilege

“So what? I would have survived. I can survive without you. Do you think I’m pathetic, Roscoe?”

“No.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No.”

“Clueless?”

“No.”

“Weak?”

“No, no! None of those things. The opposite.”

“Then you have to trust me. Stop trying to protect me. Stop trying to…to be everything to everyone. I don’t want you tosaveme. I want you to see me as equal.”

“I do.”

“No! You don’t! You keep putting things between us—our jobs, my situation. And I can’t change those things. I can’t afford to quit my job. I can’t afford to move out of your flat. It feels like you’re punishing me for things I can’t control.”

“No…”

“You are. Because you won’t seeme, the woman standing right here asking you for what she wants. You only see my history, my circumstances, myjob title. And you’re going to deny us both the chance for this to be anything. It’s not sustainable, this half-and-half thing. Don’t mess with me, Roscoe. I said I didn’t want to get hurt. If you refuse to be with me—properly be with me—then say so. Put me out of my misery. Give me that much, at least.”

Poppy wished she hadn’t been crying. That she wasn’t red-eyed and tear-stained and a bit sniffly as Roscoe looked down at her, his normally mild eyes burning.

She was trying to be brave. God, she was trying so hard to be brave, but to give him that ultimatum was the hardest thing she had ever done. He would say it had to end, of course he would, and he would move to the mews house, she would move back to Liz’s office, and all of it would be over.

It would kill her.

Not literally—she would still get up each day and go to work and earn the money her family needed. That wasn’t a choice. But it would kill all the soft and hopeful parts of her. It would hurt beyond imagining, and she would endure it because she would have to, but as Roscoe looked at her, misery in his eyes, she couldn’t imagine how she would survive it.

Distantly, down the hall, an old grandfather clock chimed the hour. She swiped her tears away, irritated, chin up, meeting him squarely. She refused to let him pity her. He might still see her as nothing but her poverty and circumstances, but she would meet all his aristocratic breeding, all his wealth and power and privilege with the one thing that no one could take from her: her pride.

He opened his mouth, and she tensed for the blow. He said, “You deserve better than me.”

It threw her, not quite what she expected. “What?”

“I’m such a mess. I’m a coward. I’m scared of everything. I don’t trust my own mind. How do I know… How do I know that you really want this? That I haven’t, somehow, made you feel like this is your only option? That it’s real…”

“By knowing me! Trusting me. Don’t make me beg, Roscoe. Not like you have these last few weeks.”

His eyes widened, confusion swiftly followed by horrified realisation. Guilt. “I didn’t ever mean to make you feel like that. When I held back… Every time I stopped myself…”

“I know. Because you’re my boss. You can’t take advantage. I know.”

“Because you came to my flat, Poppy, after that party. You came to my flat when you didn’t want to. You touched me when you didn’t want to.”

“I did want to.” It came out as a whisper. She looked away, cheeks burning. “Of course I did. Just like every other idiot in the building.”

“But you wouldn’t have gone home with me if you hadn’t been desperate to move roles.”

“I would never have had the courage. Ididn’thave the courage. I was nervous and awkward and intimidated, and I couldn’t relax, and that stupid plan I’d had seemed ridiculous, so I started laughing…”

“Intimidated,” he repeated. “Don’t you see what I mean?”

“Because you wereyouand I wasme…Poppy from Peckham.” She gave a laugh, but it was bitter through and through. “And what’s really changed? You don’t see me any differently at all.”

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