Page 133 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
She gives me a half arsed shrug. “For sleeping with Digby.”
“Stop apologising for things that you don’t need to be sorry for.”
She gives me this look. This look I know all too well. She’s about to cry. Her eyes droop a bit—puffy and dark—she tucks her bottom lip in, this depressing pout. But she doesn’t cry, instead she looks at me like she’s seen this exact scene before but she hasn’t. I’ve only ever slept with Phoebe and now Astrid—which I don’t want to count but I sort of have to now, don’t I?
I take a step forward, see if she flinches or backs away but she doesn’t so I take another few steps until I’m right in front of her. She looks relieved for a second, like she thought I was just going to walk straight past her and up the stairs.
We don’t say anything.
There’s too much to say.
I feel sick as she folds herself into me, wraps her arms around my waist and buries her head into my chest. I pull us down onto the settee, she curls up, her legs tucked right under her body as her head rests on my lap.
I ask myself why and how it got to this point. I mean, I don’t think it was destined to be like this. Feels as though someone has ripped out chapters from our story and rewritten them blind.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lady Phoebe
I wake up with a hand on my stomach.
It isn’t mine. It’s too cold and too big to be mine. Too possessive to be Digby’s.
I blink a couple times against the blearing sun that’s pouring through the open french doors. It’s always so hot and bright here in the mornings. My robe is stuck to my clammy skin, I sit up, see Arthur behind me, his head lolled to the side, eyes closed, his hand dipped inside the small opening in my robe.
I remember last night—or rather the early hours of this morning—well. Digby and I fought, Arthur went out and shagged Astrid even though I knew he was going to at some point.
It should make me feel like shit. What Arthur did. But it doesn’t. Makes me feel like we’re on the same page now. For the past seven months, Arthur’s been watching Digby and I together and I knew it would've hurt him because it would’ve hurt me if the roles were reversed.
I lift Arthur’s arm off me and go upstairs, into my room where the bed is empty. I’m sort of glad Digby didn’t sleep in here. I wouldn’t have wanted him too.
Have a quick body wash in the shower and then throw my bikini on because what else are you meant to wear on holiday?
Bit shaken up when I step out of my bathroom and see Spencer and Athena sitting on my bed with an assortment of breakfast pastries and coffee.
“It’s no Ladurée but the chefs tried their best,” Athena smiles, shuffles further up the bed.
I throw myself down in the middle, exhausted even though I did end up getting some sleep.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asks, reaches out, strokes my forehead.
Look up at her, smile—she doesn’t buy it—, she frowns at me. “What happened, eh?”
I shake my head. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m still not sure myself and I don’t think Digby is either. I’d like to say it’s the first time one of our arguments have escalated to that point but that isn’t true. Paris. That was a huge one that no one else knows about.
“Let’s do something today!” Athena lays on my stomach, looking up at us. “Something fun like shopping or the beach or jet skies!”
Spencer nods.
“Not in the mood,” I tell them, feel a bit bad.
“Oh, come on,” Athena sighs. “We can’t just spend all day mopping about. We’re on holiday.”
I say nothing.
Athena frowns then, looks at me funny. “Did he hurt you last night?”
Spencer stares at me, bit of a frown on her face too, waits for me to answer.
