Page 102 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
It was exhausting, I remember feeling so unbelievably tired as if all the bad things that were happening to me finally caught up and I was stuck, trapped in the forest of my mind where I had once frolicked happily.
Digby never asked me about it—I made sure of it. When he came home that evening—after the appointment and after I had finished crying every tear I had in me—I made sure he knew I wasn’t acting differently. Neither of us felt like cooking so we ordered pizza and when I went to go and collect it with him, a small girl in the road came up to me, complimented my hair andtold me how pretty I was while her dad gingerly apologised and pulled her away.
I felt like crying, I felt like telling her dad that he had raised such a kind little human but I didn’t because I never said things like that and if I did, Digby would’ve known. He would’ve gotten weird, asked me why I acted like that.
It was a punch in the gut, though, for that to happen on that day. Suddenly, I became so very aware of all babies and pregnant women and pregnancy adjacent things. It’s not typically something you pay much mind to because it’s so normal but when it becomes this huge, unfixable thing, it’s all you can think about.
I really thought I had my fair share of bad days and terrible news but that day tops it all.
As Digby and I sat on the sofa eating pizza, all I could think about was Arthur and how empty my stomach felt—and would always feel. After eating half a slice, I got up, took a shower, sat on the floor and cried until I felt nauseous.
I knew it was going to affect me but I don’t think I registered just how much until Athena burst into the bathrooms on New Year’s Eve with the news that Arthur was back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Prince Arthur
Head’s still fucked when I go down to the lobby the next morning.
I don’t know what to feel—offended, maybe? That she’d think something like that would make me love her any less? Shattered inside and out because she didn’t feel as though she could tell me? Relieved, maybe, because I feel like I’ve kind of got her back a bit?
I don’t know—I don’t fucking know.
After she told me and explained it as best as she could, she kissed me—face, jaw, neck, until she went under the covers and then we went to sleep.
I was expecting that we’d maybe sit down this morning to talk about it more, maybe she’d want to see where I was with all of it but no—she sent me down to get some ice for her face while she got ready in the bathroom.
For the best probably, to have a couple minutes apart to wrap our heads around it. I just really, really fucking wish she’d told me sooner—do I love her any less? No. Nothing could make me love her any less, unfortunately. I doubt that if she cheated on me, I’d love her any less. But that’s the thing about love, it doesn’t snuff out like a flame overnight. Slowly, overtime, it dwindles, bit by bit burns off until there’s nothing left but thick grey smoke.
I go down in jeans and a t-shirt and think about giving Connie a quick call but then I hear shouting—lots of angry, aggressive shouting.
Turn the corner, pull back because surely not—like, no way—?
Digby stands at the front desk, hurling abuse at a manager and a concierge.
“Just tell me what fucking room she’s in!” He shouts, slams his hand down on the desk.
I stand a few feet away, observing.
The manager pulls a face, swallows. “I will have to ask you to leave Mr Beaufort. You are disturbing our guests.”
Digby throws his head back, laughs, looks over to the side, spots me. Face drops.
He comes storming over with the manager hot on his heels.
“You,” he pokes my chest. “You fucking prick.”
I frown, shake my head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about?”
His jaw ticks, his face red. He leans in close to my face but he looks like a dick—I’ve got inches on him in terms of height (and every other area, too, but I’m not about to be that childish).
“Tell me where she is,” he says slowly, eyes blazing.
I shrug, give a look over to the manager to say I’m fine but he’s already on his walkie-talkie.
“Where’s who?”
I almost smile.
