Page 171 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
There’s a knock on the door.
I haul myself off the sofa and go and answer. God knows who it could be at this time.
“Hi,” Phoebe says quietly, standing on the doorstep in a long trench, her hair a mess and her face puffy.
“What are you doing here?” I ask even though I move to the side and let her in.
“Oh my god!” She cries and faces me, her shoulders slumped. “Can you stop asking me that? You are the third person tonight who has asked me what I’m doing and I don’t know! I don’t know what I’m doing!” She throws her arms up aimlessly.
I frown, glance out of the front door to see a cab pulling away at the gates. I close the door, walk over to Phoebe and put my arms around her. She falls into me, crumbling into a million shattered pieces.
I’m not sure how she knows that I was in Oxford, or why she came in the first place and didn’t go straight to Digby. Really, though, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because she’s broken and she came to me to fix her and maybe you think that’s a lot—to go to one person whenever you need fixing but it’s what we do. When one of us breaks, the other races to pick up the pieces. Glue them together as quickly as we can, even if it’s shit and the pieces are all in the wrong place, we still do it.
“Phoebe.” I move my hand to her face, force her to look at me. “What’s gone wrong?”
Her lips wobble, her jaw clenches. “Everything.” She shakes her head, her eyebrows dip and she looks at me. “I hateyou for leaving, Arthur! I hate the way you left. I hate the fact that you never said goodbye and I hate myself the most for not doing anything about it!”
Her fists come out and she starts hitting my chest.
I let her.
I don’t stop her.
“You ruined me so much when you were gone!” She sobs. “I thought you died—Arthur, I thought you were dead! You know what grief feels like so why did you do that to me?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, for what it’s worth.
She gives my chest one last hit before gulping in a breath and then falling into me. I don’t know what she needs so I just hold her. I hold her with the right amount of pressure until we slide down the wall in the hallway and the sun penetrates through the windows, warming mine and hers skin.
I wake up, stretch my arms above my head and then focus on the brown hair fanning across my lap. We fell asleep on the floor, in the hallway. Every bone in my body aches. It’s nothing, though, my bones have been aching and breaking and moaning in pain everyday. That’s what she does to me. The pain I inflicted on her has come back to me physically and I’ll carry that pain all the way to my grave.
She stirs a few minutes later, lets out a little whimper as she sits up. “Fuck,” she mutters, squints up at me. “Why did we sleep on the floor?”
I scratch the back of my neck. “We got tired—you had a bit of a breakdown.”
She frowns like she’s trying to remember, a little ‘oh’ slipping through her lips. “I’m sorry,” she says with a small shrug. “Would you like me to leave?” Phoebe laughs, nods to the front door.
“No, why would I want you to leave?” I laugh.
She closes her eyes, yawns. “Because I’m unstable, Arthur. I’m like, the last thing you need in your life.”
I crouch down in front of her, grab her face with both hands, she blinks a couple times. “You are the only thing I’ve ever needed—in a relationship, not in a relationship, young, old, stable, unstable, first thing in the morning, last thing at night—” I blow out a breath, shake my head, “All versions of you are what I need.”
Her pink lips part, takes a deep breath, her eyes widen. “I don’t want to ruin your life.”
I tilt my head. “When have you ever done that?”
“Now,” she says quietly.
“You’re actively ruining my life, are you?”
“Maybe,” she shrugs.
“And how do you know that?”
She looks away, twists her lips. “Because it’s obvious that you’re doing a lot better than me.”
I dig my fingers into her sides, she squirms but looks back at me. “Am I?”
