Page 49 of Love and Loathing

“It was the only one they had,” he said.

“And the socks?”

He gave a grim smile. “You’ll look cute in them. Sheathe those claws in kitten fluff.”

“Oh my God,” she muttered, rooting through the rest of the bag. Vegan pizza. Vegan chocolate. Painkillers. Bubble bath. The sanitary products he had finally, like pulling teeth, got her to describe to him.

“You really got them,” she said, a box of pads in one hand and tampons in the other.

“Of course I did.”

“My last boyfriend— I mean…um… I once dated a guy who refused to buy them for me. Said it was embarrassing.”

“Then he was clearly a prick, wasn’t he?”

She laughed. “Yes. I guess he was.”

When they arrived, he carried the bags from the car, chivvying Evie ahead of him and into the lift. He glanced at her on the short journey up to his floor, taking in the now-familiar face, the paler than ever skin, and absolutely refused to think about anything at all.

After a brief tour, telling her to run a bath if she wanted, he made her a cup of tea—with the oat milk he’d bought—gave it to her along with two paracetamol, dragged on a shirt and suit in the privacy of his bedroom, and fled for the office. He stood in the lift back down with a hand over his eyes and his head against the cold metal wall, absolutely trying not to think.

But Jesus Christ…

What happened when, for the second time in your life, you met a woman who you craved with every inch of you, who had the power—whether they knew it or not—to thread a fishing hook into the raw middle of your heart and drag you around like a puppet? You fell in love with them, that’s what. And Aubrey did not want to fall in love with Evelyn Blackton. Refused to. Would not. Could not. He was old enough to know better.

For fuck’s sake, he’d only stopped loving Liv twelve hours ago. Or, more accurately, had finally realised he hadn’t truly loved her for a long time.Just a habit, a really bad one…Now he was falling headfirst into another addiction, and it couldn’t end well. She didn’t like him. They weren’t compatible. They’d argue to death. And God he wanted to kiss her, touch her, live inside her…

Aubrey left his flat so preoccupied he nearly walked straight into a bus.

It was about seven when Aubrey got back to his flat, rather than the ten o’clock he’d predicted. He’d hardly done anything at work, couldn’t concentrate, nodding at whatever George said. He needed a good shake, was hoping it would all pass. Evie would be annoying and he’d realise it was nothing but a sex hangover, post-coital hormones or something, then he could go back to his nice, ordered life as a free man.

But she walked into the living room as he stood divesting himself of keys, wallet, phone, dropping his laptop case by the sideboard. She was dressed in stretchy leggings, a sloppy jumper falling off one slim shoulder. And wearing the pink fluffy socks. She gave him a dazzling smile.

“How was your day at the office, honey?”

He answered the nineteen-fifties housewife impression with the flat look it deserved, then went to the kitchen, got a cold beer from the fridge, and drank a third of it watching Evie cross the room towards him.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“A bit.”

“Did you sleep?”

“A little.”

“Eat?”

“Not yet.”

She stood in front of him. He refused the urge to kiss her.

“I’ll put the pizza in,” he said.

“OK.”

She was smiling like she knew. But she couldn’t know. He busied himself with the oven, Evie watching him. After a moment, she said, “How was work? Really?”

“Fine.”

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