Page 47 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
“Are you smoking?”
I jump, hide my hand behind my back, turn around.
Arthur’s standing there, smile on his face, hands in his pocket.
“No,” I shake my head, swallow.
I flick the butt to somewhere behind me.
He cocks his head. “You sure?”
“When have I ever smoked?” I ask, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. “That really doesn’t fit into my brand.”
“No, yeah, sure,” he nods, all sarcastic.
“And besides,” I shrug airily. “It’s a cigarette, not a shot of heroin!”
He clicks his tongue, gives me a tight lipped smile. “Is this going to be a thing then?” He wags his finger between us.
I didn’t even mean for it to come across like that but well, you know what they say…if the shoe fits.
“Probably,” I nod. “Yeah.”
“Anyways,” he clears his throat. “How’s therapy?”
I frown. “How do you know I’m in therapy?”
“Connie told me.”
“Over nail painting and hair braiding before bed?”
He rolls his eyes. “I missed how funny you are,” he says, straight faced.
“You missed me, then?” I half tease, half ask seriously.
“You’re just fishing now.” His cheeks are red.
I push my hair back, lean against the stone pillar. It’s unusually warm for February. “I saw you posted up with Astrid.”
He pulls a face, scratches the back of his neck, shakes his head. “That wasn’t—that was nothing, it was just, like, a…”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’m happy for you.”
And I think I am telling the truth. I am happy for him. Everyone knows how outrageously pretty Astrid is, it’s almost offensive. Seeing them together made my heart pang in a strange way. If I saw that he was moving on, yes it would undoubtedly make me sick but it would also give me the confirmation that we are done and that we are over and that it is okay for me to fully undress for Digby. Right now, I’m still clinging onto that tiny thread of dignity.
“Yeah, but,” Arthur shrugs very shyly. “It’s not a thing.”
“Why not?” I ask, looking away from him.
“Uh—just isn’t?”
“She is pretty, though?”
“How’s Digby?” He suddenly asks, staring at me expectantly.
“Oh, you know…” My voice is a couple octaves higher than my usual tone. “Great—fine.”
“Yeah?”
