Page 177 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
He rolls his eyes, puffs out his chest. “I can do what I like.”
The way he looks at me, eyes pinched, mouth curled up into a snarl and his jaw ticking—it scares me. Not only that, but I’ve never seen him drunk. Not properly—not like this. The whole time I was with him, he only ever had about three drinks. He knew I didn’t like drugs or drunk people so he never got paralytic.
Drunk people are so unpredictable. Will they throw up on me? Will they lash out and hit me? Will they scream and shout and call me horrible names? Will they start breaking down and crying? I don’t fucking know and it stresses me out.
I feel my chest tighten the longer Digby keeps me trapped in here. All I want is for him to let me go so I can run back to Arthur. I don’t know why he’s so annoyed over it. He knew. Hefucking knew since the moment Arthur touched British soil that I’d go back to him. What did Digby expect from me? A ring, two kids and a forever home? That was never going to happen.
“Digby,” I sigh. “Can you just let me go? I promise we’ll talk but not now.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t want to talk to you anyway. Don’t want to talk to no bitch that can’t survive on her own.”
“Very nice,” I nod. “Now can you let me out?”
“What’s going to happen when Arthur dies, Phoebe?” He cocks his head. “What are you going to do then?”
“Fuck off,” I shove at his chest, his arm falls from the door and I push it open.
“Fucking bitch,” I hear him mutter.
Even though out here, in the kitchen is a fucking circus, I feel like I’ve just stepped outside into a cold winters day with the way my lungs burn as I take in a deep breath. I was suffocating in there, borderline panicking.
I know he doesn’t mean what he said. Drunk people never do but it doesn’t make the wound any less open.
The door to the laundry room opens behind me and Digby stumbles out, using my shoulders to hold himself up.
“Fuck off,” I spit, shrugging him off.
He smiles wonkily, grabs my wrists in an attempt to dance with me but I push him away—it’s too late, though. Arthur’s already seen us from across the room.
He blinks a few times, cocks his head, a confused smile on his lips. It takes him a second. I push Digby further away from me but it doesn’t seem to make a difference to Arthur. He’s just watched us walk out of the laundry room together.
And now, if this was him and Astrid, I’d be pissed. Of course I would be. But would he really think that lowly of me? Does he really think I’d do that to him?
Apparently so.
I snap out of it, barge through everyone in the kitchen and try to reach Arthur but he turns around, walks away and blends seamlessly into the thick throng of people. I stand in the doorway of the kitchen, trying to spot him but he’s nowhere to be seen.
My heart starts racing.
I push through the crowds, march over to the bar and demand a bottle of champagne. He seems hesitant at first but once I tell him my name, he reaches under the bar and uncorks a bottle of 2012 Cristal before passing it over to me.
I drink straight from the bottle, the bubbles burning down my throat. I haven’t had a drink all night so far. But Arthur hates me and Digby makes me think I hate myself more than I already do—maybe I do. Maybe I do hate myself that much. I must do. There’s no other reason for this string of events.
All I wanted was for Arthur to come back and now he has, I can’t seem to hang on to him for longer than five minutes. I had a better grip on him when he was on drugs.
I go outside, to the front where the paparazzi start blinding me. One of the security standing by the front door asks if I need a cab but I shake my head. I don’t think I do.
Maybe I need a cab? Should I take one anyway?
I nod up at him a second later and he waves one down for me. I jump into the back with my bottle of champagne, drinking and drinking and drinking until I’ve drained it dry and bubbles pop in my stomach. That’s the shit thing about champagne—the bubbles fill your head unlike wine. They pop and fizzle and cloud everything you thought you knew.
I feel bad about leaving. I didn’t say goodbye to anyone and Spencer was around there somewhere and I didn’t even say hello to her. I needed to talk to Ronan about my sister, as well. And now I’ve failed myself and my sister and Arthur and that isn’t something I’m used to because once upon a time, mysister was still here and I had Arthur. Nothing I could’ve done back then would’ve failed Arthur. The only person he failed was himself. I never viewed him as a failure. I saw him as mine and nobody else’s. Maybe that was selfish. Maybe I should’ve let him go, let him find someone else who didn’t put up with his shit but then maybe I was just a child and why can’t anyone else see that—?
“Just here okay?”
I blink a few times, look up at the cabbie through the seats. I nod, not really feeling like I did and hand him a couple notes. I didn’t count it so it was probably over the bill but he doesn’t complain. I jump out of the back, staggering on my feet as he drives off.
I’m not sure why I came to my mothers.
