‘No thanks. Not necessary.’
He hadn’t chased after her last night, no apology explaining things (because what was there to explain? No promises had been made or broken), and his lack of concern at the way things had played out only made her feel more relieved that they had been interrupted after all. Maybe it had been a relief for them both. A cold shock of water to bring them to their senses when they’d threatened to succumb.
Another message came.
She lasted three seconds.
‘Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. I won’t be there. Viggo’s got a key.’
She gasped indignantly, angered by the message. How dare he think she would sabotage her work just to avoid seeing him!
It was true, but how dare he think it.
She didn’t reply and went back to the charcoal sketches, desperately trying to pretend he didn’t exist as she scanned over olive trees, the Dauni mountains, a pack donkey, trulli houses, a blacksmith at the anvil...
Still hunting a ghost.
And now dodging her own.
Chapter Eleven
Darcy stopped stirring her sauce as she heard the front door close, turning to find her flatmate rounding the corner a moment later. Freja had run back from the lab – her running kit was a migraine-inducing combination of teal leggings, bright blue padded jacket, Barbie-pink socks and yellow trainers – but she had clearly stopped en route, for she was carrying a shopping bag.
‘Well, fancy seeing you here, stranger!’ Darcy drawled. ‘I thought I lived alone these days.’
‘You should be so lucky. Did you miss me?’
‘Miss you? Miss Petals and I could talk of nothing else.’
Freja grinned, plonking the bags down on the counter and peering into her saucepan. ‘What are you cooking?’
‘Pasta a la Darce...But there’s enough for two if you want some? Or are you just passing through?’
Freja groaned, sagging slightly against the worktop. ‘Girl, I need a full night’s sleep. I’ve not slept more than a four-hour stretch in over a month.’
‘Great! Thanks for that,’ Darcy quipped. ‘Way to remind me I’m single.’
Freja dropped her head onto Darcy’s arm and groaned. ‘Now I know how new parents feel.’
‘I have no sympathy. If you want endless hot sex with your rich, older boss-boyfriend, it’s going to come at a price.’
‘Just you wait,’ Freja tutted. ‘You’ve got your hot date tomorrow. We’ll see how lively you’re looking on Wednesday morning.’
‘Hot?’ Darcy gave a bemused shake of her head. ‘Tepid, perhaps.’
Freja straightened and walked over to the fridge, pulling out the opened bottle of wine. She poured herself a glass and topped up Darcy’s. ‘I thought you said he’d got better?’
‘Well, yes, but it was a pretty low bar to begin with.’
‘What are you going to wear?’
‘I guess whatever I wear to work tomorrow.’
‘You’re going straight from there? You’re not coming back here first?’
‘No time. We’re meeting at seven thirty and I need to wring out every single minute available to me in the gallery. In for seven. Leave at seven. That’s all I’ve got to work with, and leaving work early is not on my horizon until after Christmas.’
Freja frowned, emptying her shopping bags and decanting food into the fridge. ‘Dare I ask how it’s going?’