Page 28 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
He isn’t happy about tonight. He knows Arthur will be there and he knows I will talk to him. For years, he’s avoided this scenario. But I’m not with him to make him understand what happened between us in school.
The honest to God truth is that I don’t know why I’m with him.
I’m almost ready but something feels off, weird. I go over to his chest of drawers and rummage through some of my jewellery strewn across the top.
“Have you seen my ring?” I ask him, still looking.
I can sense his eye roll. “Haven’t seen it for like, two years.”
Clench my fists, chew the inside of my cheek.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive, Phoebe.”
I turn around to face him. “I won’t be cross if you tell me you accidentally flushed it or put it out with the rubbish—I just want to know where it is.”
He laughs softly, shakes his head. “Haven’t seen it.”
“But—well, where is it, then?” I stress, throwing my hands up.
The Tiffany ring—Arthur’s ring. Been missing since he left. I don’t remember taking it off that night or waking up without it on but then again, I could’ve? I mean, I probably did, that’s the only plausible explanation. It got lost when I went off to Uni for a bit, or maybe I lost it before then but I can’t be sure because those months are all a bit hazy for me.
Tonight, however, I wanted to wear it. Wanted Arthur to see the huge diamond glisten under the lights so he knew I was still his. That ring, for me, for us, was like a secret. When I had it on—which was all the time—people knew that Arthur gave it to me as a fake wedding band but what they didn’t know was that it represented something much deeper. It showed that, throughout it all, I still wore it so I was still his. Maybe it doesn’t make sense to you but it did to us. And tonight I wanted that secret back. I wanted him to know that for me, no time had passed at all.
“I don’t know, Phoebe—but come on, we’re going to be late.”
Begrudgingly, I walk away, allowing Digby to escort me out to his fugly car and over to Stratton House. My stomach knots up as you would expect it to. I’ve been busying myselfsince leaving Dr.Kane’s office earlier this afternoon but now it’s kind of just hit me all at once and I start to feel sick.
I don’t know what to expect.
Part of me wants to fall in love with him all over again, part of me doesn't, part of me never stopped falling in love with him. My entire being is a mosaic of Arthur and I’m so used to it being cracked that I’m not sure if I’m ready for it to be pieced together.
The paparazzi are rife outside when we get there. I tell Digby to park around the back and that George will let us in that way. I’m also unsure if they’ve spoken since that God awful dinner. I doubt they have because I doubt many people just have George Stratton as a contact in their phone but if not, that’s really awkward, isn’t it?
I open my mouth to tell Digby that I’m nervous but he just gets out of the car, slams the door and heads towards the fire exit.
George lets us in, Digby storms right past him—no time for pleasantries tonight.
“What’s got his knickers in a twist?” George laughs, pulls me, kisses my head.
“Probably that monstrosity of a car.”
“God,” he looks down at me. “You really hate that car, don’t you?”
I nod and then sort of gesture behind him. “Is he…is he—like, is he—is he…”
“Is he in there?” He finishes for me with a smile. “Yeah, he’s there.”
“Oh, okay.” I swallow although my throat feels thick and clogged up. “I’m not sure I can talk to him, George.”
He stares down at me, maybe a bit guilty for setting this up? Maybe thanking himself for doing it because no one else would?
“You’ll be grand,” he tells me, hooking his arm over my neck. “Come in—have a juice, relax.”
“A juice?”
He pulls a face. “Yeah, well, it’s all alcohol free so it’s technically juice, ain’t it?”
