Page 94 of Love and Loathing

She nodded, close to tears again, wanting to climb onto his lap, into his arms, burrow into all the aching sadness she heard in his voice and push it out, replace it with…with her? With a promise? WithI love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…

“It’s why I’ve kept my distance. Trying to sort what I ought to believe from what I want to believe.”

She listened so intently to every word they felt like a physical force, her heartbeat thudding in her ears. Surely he forgave her? He was here, he’d smiled, he’d kissed her, said he loved her, that her soul was wonderful… But he’d loved Liv, too—loved her and still knew better than to take her back for a third time.

He gave her a look, dark eyes as serious as she’d ever seen them. “Can I trust you, Evie? No games, no secrets. This has to be real, and grown up, and a hundred per cent. You know what’s on the line for me.”

His fractured heart, his dream of children, a wife, a family… That’s what he was saying.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes.” And she meant it wholeheartedly. “You can trust me.” Except her body itself might be holding a secret—keeping a secret from her, too. Or maybe it was nothing at all. But the question was big enough to be a secret all of its own.

“But…Aubrey…there’s something I need to tell you.”

THIRTY-NINE

Evie’s expression was unusuallytimid, almost fearful, and Aubrey’s heart, which was currently far from robust, gave an awful lurch.

“What is it?”

“I… It’s… Well… It’s probably nothing…”

Was she actually trying to kill him? His nerves were frayed. He was existing on a scant few hours of restless sleep, mostly nightmares. He had a meeting with his lawyer in a couple of hours, another with his bank to restructure his dwindling finances, he probably needed to sell his flat, almost everything that could be terrible was terrible. But five minutes ago, Evie had been in his arms and he’d felt an excruciating hope that perhaps this one, most important thing was about to turn out right. And now she looked like she was about to be sick. She wasn’t the only one.

He swore as his phone started ringing, pulling it irritably from his pocket. But it was Andrew. The man never called unless it was practically life and death serious.

“Sorry. I have to take this.”

He stood up, but, finding no privacy in the small living room, stepped out through the door onto the landing outside the flat. He leant back against the chipped, painted wood, feeling it cool and solid at his back. With an exhale, he answered the phone, thinking perhaps this interruption was a good thing. This morning’s visit, spur of the moment after days of fighting the urge to do exactly that, was supposed to be nothing but a grown up talk. See how things stood. Perhaps tentatively, carefully, protecting the crumbs of his dignity, see if Evie might allow him to forgive her. He hadn’t meant to laugh at her then kiss her. But all it took was one look. It’s what he had been afraid of.

“Andrew. What is it?”

“A call from George Blackton’s lawyers.”

Aubrey’s tension ratcheted up a notch. “And?”

Andrew paused. He was the type of man who could pause without giving anything away. It could be bad news, good news, he might be about to announce he was leaving the law to become a can-can dancer, one never knew. People sometimes said the same about Aubrey, but he was sure it was never quite so annoying when he did it.

“They’re dropping it.”

Aubrey straightened, standing up from the door and taking a step down the landing. “What?”

“The whole case. All of it. And BlacktonGold have just released a public statement clearing you of any wrongdoing—that it was all a misunderstanding. The whole company thanks you for your time there, sorry to see you go, entirely stands by you, et cetera, et cetera. Signed by George Blackton himself.”

Aubrey stared blankly down the dim landing.

“Are you there?” Andrew asked.

“Yes. Yes. I…” He hadn’t realised how worried he had been until the worry suddenly, inexplicably lifted. He put out ahand and gripped the banister rail, light-headed. “How…? What happened?”

“No idea. Not our doing. Just be happy,” Andrew said in the tone of someone who had heard the word and was using it for form’s sake, dubious of its existence.

Aubrey nodded slowly, looking back at the door to Romona’s flat.Be happy.Maybe he actually could. Maybe everything was finally going to bloody well go to plan. Aubrey Fordhappy. Life going his way. Stranger things had happened.

Andrew rang off without a further word, job done. Aubrey walked back to the door and paused with his hand on the handle, taking a deep breath before he walked inside.

Evie was standing up, back in the kitchen, elbows leaning on the counter as she looked out of the window, tea in her hands. He couldn’t blame her for moving from the sofa.

She straightened up and turned towards him. “Everything OK?”

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