Page 3 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I tried so hard to resent him.
But it never came.
Even on my worst nights when I wished and willed myself to even spear a slither of dislike towards him—it never came.
Instead, I found myself on my back, staring into brown murky eyes wishing they were the greens of the trees I used to climb and the blues of the water I used to swim in.
At the beginning, I thought I was only with Digby because I couldn’t be on my own but that thought was far too hard to digest so I told myself the easy thing; I loved Digby.
“Seen a ghost, Phoebs?” he laughs, nudging my arm as I reach for my glass on the table.
Shake my head numbly. “Stop calling me that.”
“Alright,” he mutters, offended even though I’ve been telling him to stop calling me that since the first time he did.
The familiarity of the walls closing in around me and the sweat coating my hands makes me ditch my glass and reach for the bottle. I drink straight from that until the clock chimes midnight.
We stand on the rooftop garden, watching the fireworks as they go off over the London Eye. I’m swaying and the January air feels warm. The sparkles on my dress are chafing against my bare arms and I want to take it off.
“Happy New Year,” Digby kisses me as I stand there like the painting of Lucretia by Sir Godfrey Kneller which I hate because not only is it deeply depressing but I’ve never cared for art. Not until Digby. I’d much rather be the human form of Oizy’s.
“Happy New Year,” I mutter once he pulls back but he’s not done, he yanks my hips into him and holds my head to his chest which I can’t stand because It’d be so much easier if he didn’t love me.
It’s so much easier to hate when the object of your resentment is a truly, to the bone, horrible person who deserves to be hated.
And like I was as a teenager, I’m all twisted up inside, trying to battle this churning poison in my gut—pointing the hatred I have for myself at someone else who deserves it.
Over the years, Dr.Kane’s been telling me that I don’t deserve the hate I give myself which was a shock. I mean, howcould I not hate myself for staying with Arthur when I knew full well I should've left him?
But as I reach up on my tip-toes and whisper into his ear, drag him into the back of a waiting town car outside of the club and throw myself into his lap, I’m reminded that it still creeps up every now and then.
I plead for him to kiss me the same way Arthur did.
Beg him to touch me in the spots Arthur knew.
Pray that he’ll say the things Arthur did that entered my ears like songs.
But he doesn’t, I realise, when we’re finished and sweaty. He won’t know me like the back of his hand because I won’t let him. I swore to myself that I would only save something so intimate for Arthur but when I realised he wasn’t going to be coming back anytime soon and that Digby really did love me, I just tried to wire him the same way Arthur was. Tried to teach him the things Arthur did and loved. Tried to turn him into someone he’d never become because no male walking this earth will ever compete with Arthur, let alone compare.
“I’m getting in the shower,” Digby kisses my head before jumping out of his bed.
I snuggle into the duvet that isn’t blue or satin and sure, maybe, we were only kids back then—Arthur and I—but that’s probably what made it so special, in a way. We were so young and small and innocent and naive that something so big and grown up felt solely like ours. Something no one else could touch because nobody else would be getting involved. It was magical in a way that it isn’t now and I miss it.
I miss him.
I miss him like I never had him in the first place.
And if he is back, he won’t want me. No boy would. Not even Digby, he’s only still here because I haven’t told him. So I will continue to hold those giggly, awkward moments aroundmy neck like a locket because I’ll never get them back, never get the chance to replace them with mature kisses and experienced hands.
Chapter Two
Prince Arthur
Delphine answers the door when I knock.
“Arthur,” she smiles, looks me over in a nostalgic way. “It's good to see you.”
I nod my head at her. “And you.”
