Page 82 of The Importance of Being Emma
I had to speak to her. Pausing only to turn off the shower, I hurtled into the bedroom. But she’d gone. She’d taken her clothes, and her key, and gone.
I hardly noticed the water I was dripping onto the carpet; my eyes were drawn to the bed. For a few hours, it had been a cocoon from the real world, warm with passion and possibility. It was empty now, and cold.
Yet, when I’d reached for her during the night and we’d made love again, it was just like the first time, no holding back. Then, this morning, she was the first thing I saw — the woman I’d always loved. Briefly, foolishly, I’d allowed myself to imagine waking every morning to this, believing that she felt the same for me.
But she didn’t. She was in some sort of denial, because of her infatuation with that bastard Churchill. And I knew her too well to try and make her change her mind right now; it was more likely to drive her into his arms. Ironic, wasn’t it? Her maddening pig-headedness was one of the many things I loved about her.
So I’d play it cool. For a little while, at least. However hard that might be.
* * *
~~EMMA~~
I was fumbling to unlock the door of my room with one hand, when I heard someone approaching. A few yards down the corridor, the fire door swung open and Flynn breezed through.
Oh shit! Why did it have to be him?
When he saw me he did a double take, then recovered himself almost immediately and winked at me.
‘Where’ve you been all night, you wicked girl?’
I held my dress up more firmly and forced a smile. ‘I could ask you the same question.’
‘Me? Oh, just been out for an early morning walk,’ he said airily. ‘Clear the cobwebs away, that sort of thing.’
‘You must have been freezing.’
He was almost as underdressed as I was, his shirt unbuttoned, with no jacket. And weren’t they the clothes he’d been wearing last night?
He grinned. ‘Yeah, had to make it an early morning jog, actually. And now it’s your turn to spill the beans. I’m intrigued — where did you spend the night?’
I blushed and blurted out the first thing that came into my head. ‘In Harriet’s room. We had quite a lot to drink and I just passed out on her bed.’
He raised one eyebrow. ‘Harriet? Interesting. Didn’t think you had leanings in that direction.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’ I said, with a nervous laugh.
‘I can always tell when a woman’s had a good time. And I’d say you certainly have.’ His eyes flicked to the briefs I was holding. ‘Never mind, your secret’s safe with me. Strewth, and there’s me thinking I’m a good judge of sexual orientation — hey, what’s wrong?’
Tears were streaming down my cheeks. It was all such a horrible mess. I’d slept with a man I’d known all my life and destroyed our relationship for ever. And now the man I’d really wanted to sleep with thought I was a raving lesbian.
Flynn put his hands on my shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze. ‘Things are never as bad as they seem, Em. Why don’t you get properly dressed and I’ll make us a cup of tea and you can tell me all about it?’
I nodded and handed him my key. He made short work of the lock I’d been fiddling with for ages and pushed me gently into the room.
‘You’re cold, you’ll feel better after a nice warm shower,’ he said, busying himself with the kettle. ‘Don’t be too long, or I’ll come and hurry you up!’
I thanked him with a wan smile, then stumbled through to the bathroom. And there, in the soundproofed privacy of the shower, I washed away any traces of Mark Knightley — and sobbed my heart out.
But Flynn was right; I did feel better afterwards. In fact, I felt almost back to normal as I put on my jeans and a jumper and sat drinking tea with him. Except that ‘normal’ had changed. ‘Normal’ meant recalling random moments from the previous night when I was least prepared for them. ‘Normal’ meant my stomach churning at the very thought of seeing Mark again.
And as for Flynn . . . When he suggested that I told him everything, I couldn’t. And at first I didn’t understand why.
‘So you went along to ask Harriet to undo your dress,’ he prompted. ‘Shame I wasn’t around, I’d have undone it like a shot, then who knows how your night might have turned out?’
I glanced at him sitting on my bed with that naughty-boy look on his face and I realised that it was a charade, that he was all talk and no action, at least where I was concerned. It made me wonder how I’d ever thought of him as relationship material. Oh, he was good company and he made me laugh, but something about him didn’t ring true. And this morning, for the first time, I didn’t even fancy him. Those once-gorgeous green eyes had lost their magic.
‘But you weren’t around, were you?’ I said coolly. ‘You could have been, but you disappeared quite early on. What did you get up to for all that time?’
