Page 62 of Love and Loathing

“Fund management, I think.”

“But…but like he used to, at BlacktonGold? Not at a place like this, where you only do the ethical stuff.”

“He has to pay the bills, Evie. He doesn’t have family money like we do. A bit of savings, maybe. But he’s got to work. And that’s the job he knows. You can’t hate him for that.”

“I don’t… I just… I just thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“He’d had a change of heart.”

Roscoe gave her a frowning look, disappointed. “You’re being unfair.”

Evie didn’t reply. It wasn’t the first time Roscoe had tried to defend Aubrey to her. He’d come to see her when he found out what had happened. Sympathetic, understanding her feelings, but refusing to condemn the man.

“Are you really going to run away at the sight of him? You’re drenched. At least come and get dried off. Have a coffee. Speak to the man for a minute like a civilised human being.”

“Like a grown up,” Evie said bitterly.

“Yes. Like a mature, reasonable adult.” He smiled. “For purely selfish reasons, because my life is going to be miserable if my best friend and my sister can’t be in the same room. And I really want some of this cake.”

He nodded back down the corridor. “Coming?”

She turned, took a step, grimacing, dreading it, hot and cold and shivering.

“Besides,” Roscoe said as they walked to the office door. “Poppy likes him. So he can’t be that bad. She’s an excellent judge of character.”

“Poppy likesyou.”

He grinned. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

TWENTY-SIX

Aubrey wasn’t there whenthey went back into the office. Roscoe frowned in the direction of one of the meeting rooms to the side. Evie guessed he suspected his friend was hiding in one of them.

She didn’t mind. Wanted, quite badly in fact, to find a bathroom and a mirror and check what on earth she looked like, very conscious of the wet strands of hair still dripping down the front of her sodden coat.

“Is there a kitchen?” she said, taking the box back from Roscoe. “Bathroom?”

“Through that corridor at the end.”

She nodded, walking briskly down the room, heart thudding.

It was a bright, new office, almost entirely empty except for a few desks down one side. There was probably space for twenty people. It all smelt of new carpet and new furniture, plasticky and a little sharp.

She found the kitchen, put down the box. Found the bathroom, winced at her pale, blotchy skin and stringy hair.

God.This was not remotely how she’d wanted this to go. She hadn’t wanted this to happen at all. Her sincerest hope would have been to never see the man again, because what good could come of anything else? She couldn’t be immune to him. He affected her too deeply—always had, from the moment they met, something unignorable about him, demanding, provoking. Not just his height, or his figure, or the way he looked. Not even the dark irony in his eyes or the sense he gave of always knowing more than she did—having been there, done it, her own life and thoughts and feelings something he could look at in amusement, a silly, childish thing. But something beyond that. A harbour wall beyond the cold water. Solidity, certainty, a strange sense she got sometimes, or maybe it was a girlish dream, that he would hold the whole world back while she cried her silly tears and went about her stupid, sentimental life. A feeling, a wish, that he would holdher—strong arm dwarfing thin shoulders, his jacket around her to ward off the night, a dark sardonic voice to make her smile, and a different, darker voice in the night, low but sure, telling her what to do, taking the burden of control, of decision. Leaving no doubt about what he wanted. Her.

She shivered, ran her cold hands down the goosebumps on her arms. The thin jumper under her coat was damp, creased. The forecast had been for fairer weather. She hadn’t been prepared. Wasn’t at all prepared…

A deep breath. She left the bathroom. Heard voices in the kitchen. Stopped, turned, couldn’t…

“Evie?”

All she had to do was smile. Remember how to smile. Meet his eyes briefly and look away.

“Hello, Aubrey.”

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