Page 142 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I only open my eyes when I realise that they’re shut.
Connie’s standing right in front of me.
He frowns. “Fuck me—are you alright?”
I shake my head.
He puts his hands on my shoulders to stop me. I didn’t notice I was pacing the length of the pool or that I was dripping in sweat or that there were tears rolling down my cheeks or that I can, in fact, breathe.
“Sit down,” he tells me.
I sit on one of the sun loungers, he sits next to me, eyes darting all over my face.
“What’s going on with you?”
I take a few deep breaths, dig my nails into my palms—can’t believe I thought about relapsing.
Clench my jaw, stare at him. “I need to tell you something.”
He nods, still frowning.
“Something bad, Con.”
“Alright,” he says slowly. “You relapse?”
Shake my head again and his shoulders relax a bit.
“What is it then, Arth? You can tell me fucking anything.”
“It's really bad.”
He laughs lightly, nervously. “Out with it then.”
“Remember the night I got into the crash with Jude Tilden?”
Connie nods. “Yeah, there was a party at Phoebe’s.”
My stomach dips. I don’t think I can say it but the longer I hold off, the more I think Connie understands.
His face sort of drops, he takes a deep breath, shakes his head a bit like it’s just dropped for him.
I nod.
“Something happened that night, Con.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lady Phoebe
I wake up next to Digby, sweaty, spent and a little achy—and not in a gross way. Dinner with Athena last night was a little liquid-y. I mean, that’s just what hits me the second I open my eyes, what follows when I fully wake up is a lot more complex.
I really love Arthur—we know I do—and I feel really sorry for Digby because any time I look at him now I just see myself when I was sixteen. I’m asking myself why he won’t leave me but I think that’s what Arthur was asking himself all those years ago. Digby’s wondering why I’m letting him hurt me again and again but that’s exactly what I was asking myself. This entire relationship is a parallel.
Last night was weird, though. Like, really weird. You know when the air changes and not because it’s suddenly pouring down. Something had shifted. Everyone was acting strange. Athena and I got back, a little tipsy. Spencer didn’t drink. The minute I walked in, Digby was on me—like he just had to be, not because he wanted to be. Connie came up to my room, told me not to bother Arthur because he was already in bed but I didn’t mention Arthur or ask after him when I came in so that was weird.
I recall Sullivan being here. Arthur was with him. So were the twins. I think that pulled the thread into whatever is unraveling.
Digby didn’t let me think much about any of it, though. He tore my clothes off and took me to bed. He was here last night while I was out, maybe he overheard something? Maybe heknows his place, though, and would quite like to keep his ears so maybe he didn’t?
