Page 141 of Off the Pitch

“You’ll get there though.” Everybody was busy watching the game, so I slipped my fingers into his and squeezed his hand tightly, trying to tell him everything I felt in that single gesture. “It’s going to take time, but I believe in you.”

“I believe in me too. One day at a time, that’s all I can do. Just take it one day at a time.” Hugo paused for a second, chewing on his lip. “Christmas. I’m going to aim for Christmas.”

“That sounds perfect! But if you are going to drag me out to watch you in the freezing cold, I will require payment of some kind.”

“Oh? What type?”

“Hot chocolate, lots of it, with mountains of whipped cream and marshmallows. And not the little ones either. They’re rubbish. I want the big ones that form a lovely, sticky layer of marshmallowey goodness under the cream. And a chocolate flake too.”

Hugo laughed. “Done.”

We watched the rest of the match with our fingers curled together, squeezing our hands occasionally as if neither of us could believe this was real. Nobody said anything, and I wasn’t even sure if anybody except David noticed. He just gave me a soft smile when he saw. It was the same smile I’d seen him give photos of small animals, so I assumed he thought we were cute.

Afterwards, we said our goodbyes and headed home, neither of us speaking much, just quietly contented in each other’s company.

But when we reached the front door of the flat, Hugo stopped, frowning as he turned the key in the lock.

“That’s funny. I’m sure I locked it.”

“You did.” Bile rose in my throat because something wasn’t right here. This building was incredibly secure, and if the door was unlocked that meant that whoever had done it had a key, but I didn’t know anyone else who had one except Hugo and myself.

Hugo pushed the door open, and I followed him inside. There was a dark green handbag on the side table by the door that I didn’t recognise, but Hugo obviously did because he sighed deeply and threw it a dirty look, shaking his head and muttering something in French.

A light, accented voice called from the living room as the door clicked shut behind us. “Hugo? Is that you?”

As we rounded the corner, I saw a woman sitting on the sofa, smiling happily. She had tanned skin and blonde hair, and I suppose she would be called beautiful, given the structure of her face and her features. Her face fell slightly when she saw me, mouth open as if she didn’t know what to say.

But Hugo did. “Hello, Hélène.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

KitDo you have any tattoos? Volt asked me about designing one for him, and I wondered if you had any

HugoI hate needles so nope, no tattoos here. You?

KitNo, I’m always worried I’ll get tired of the design and want to change it

Hugo

I was fuming.

No, scratch that. I was fucking furious.

How dare Hélène just let herself into my flat and waltz back into my life like this, thinking that I still owed her anything. The last time I’d seen her, she’d said she was heading back to France for the summer, and I’d not heard from her since. Did she think that meant she could just show up here?

Technically, I hadn’t told her she wasn’t welcome here anymore, but I’d have thought that would have been obvious given that we were fuckingdivorced.

Yet there she sat, a slightly shocked look on her face as she stared at Kit and me. Shit, Kit. What on earth was he going to think about all this? Would he think I’d invited her? Would he think Iwantedher around? I had no idea what this looked like to him, and my chest tightened horribly because what if Kit thought that I wanted her more than I wanted him.

“Hello, darling,” Hélène said, regaining some of her composure. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d have a friend with you.”

“What do you want? I thought you went back to France,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. I tried to reach out and grasp Kit’s fingers, but I felt him step away from me, and fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. I should have told Hélène months ago that I didn’t want to see her again, but I’d thought I still needed her. And I stupidly hadn’t said anything to her since I’d met Kit. I’d naively hoped that now that the divorce was final, she’d leave me alone.

“I came back early. I wanted to see you,” she said. Her voice was a little uncertain and it was easy to see this hadn’t been the reaction she’d been expecting. “I thought you’d be pleased to see me again.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“Well, I’ve been away since May and—”

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