Page 11 of Hooked On The One That Got Away
And he did have a point, which Willow wasnevergoing to concede.
‘Which reminded me that Ihadyour things stored away,’ she white-lied. ‘And seeing you’d had more than one opportunity to ask for them, I figured–’ Willow raised her hands in a shrug.
Charlie had been taut with outrage and now he sagged against the door frame and blew out a breath.
‘Right …’
He gazed down the street, looking suddenly so mournful that Willow’s heart did a little flip. Then he gave the door frame a quiet thump with his fist and met Willow’s eye.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘For, you know, everything, but also for going off at you just now. It just–’
‘Just what?’ Willow prompted.
‘Ithurt,’ he said, roughly. ‘It hurt like hell, knowing you were getting rid of all traces of me. And IknowI’ve no right to expect anything more, but …’
His voice was starting to break, and he paused, ran a hand over his face.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, again. ‘I’ll leave you alone.’
And he strode off, his shoulders hunched in the way Willow knew meant he was embarrassed and angry with himself.
Willow wassoclose to calling out after him, calling him back. But where would that lead? Possibly, if emotions were runninghigh, to what Maeve would call an ‘ex-ccident’. But it would only be temporary – she and Charlie were over, he’d made that clear – and then Willow would be back to square one, feeling sad and abandoned. She owed it to herself not to go there.
But why? Why was Charlie so hurt by her getting rid of his stuff? He was the one who made a clean break, so why should it matter to him at all?
Willow could see one of her housemates walking up the road. She didn’t want to explain why she was loitering in the doorway, so hurried back inside. Tried to focus on her book again but her brain couldn’t settle.
There was only one thing to do. Willow picked up her phone and called Maeve.
Chapter Nine
Maeve, of course, had the answer. ‘To the pub!’ she told Willow. ‘It’s not a Tuesday but this is an emergency. Plus, I won’t be distracted by yon sexy beardy fiddler.’
The Oak and Whale was full, but Maeve had somehow commandeered their favourite booth. She was wearing a sculpted crepe dress in lilac, and silver slingbacks. Normally, Willow didn’t bother comparing her clothes with Maeve’s, mainly because there was no way she could afford what Maeve wore. But today, Willow was even more acutely aware that she looked shabby. She’d been aware of it when she’d met with Charlie in his perfectly tailored suit, and when she’d looked in her own wardrobe and seen nice outfits that she hadn’t worn for nearly a year. Maeve had never, ever called Willow out on her frumpiness, but then she didn’t have to. Next to Maeve, Willow may as well have been wearing a used potato sack with armholes cut out of it. Maybe it was time to ditch the sweats and start taking more pride in her appearance.
‘So, quite the eventful time you’ve been having?’ Maeve said. ‘Encounters with rabid swansandyour ex.’
‘The swans weren’t rabid,’ Willow corrected. ‘Just broody, like Geillis said.’
She glanced towards the bar. Geillis wasn’t on tonight. Her replacement was a young guy with multiple piercings and dyed goth-black hair. He was lean as a whippet, but Willow could tell from his stance that he knew how to handle himself. Not that fights broke out regularly in the Oak and Whale, but it was good to be prepared.
‘He’s cute.’ Maeve had followed her gaze to the barman. ‘If you like the Nick Cave murder-ballad vibe. Personally, I prefer a more homespun look, beard, cap and weskit.’
Willow laughed. ‘Does anyone actually say “weskit” these days?’
‘If they don’t, they should,’ Maeve replied. ‘They should say “pismire”, too, and “cockalorum”. But back to you and my first question of many: how did Charlie know where you live?’
‘Oh …’ Willow hadn’t actually considered this. ‘I suppose the plumber told him.’
‘Hmm,’ said Maeve. ‘Seems unprofessional. D’you think Charlie got heavy with him?’
‘Hewaspretty upset,’ Willow conceded. ‘But Charlie was never the one to pick a fight. He was always the peacemaker.’
Charlie could definitely rail about the injustices of the world, but at heart, he’d been a problem-solver, someone who sorted things out, including arguments. Well, the Charlie she’d known had been, anyway.
‘And how is he looking?’ Maeve said. ‘Question two this is, in case you’ve already lost track.’
A question Willow didnotwant to answer. ‘Good,’ she said, vaguely. ‘He’s thinner.’
