Page 62 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I glance down at the floor, his thumbs brush away my tears.
“I wish you’d go out and sleep with a hundred girls or something.”
He laughs. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’d make things easier.”
“It’d probably give me an STD.”
I look up at him, a small smile that turns into a grin.
He blinks, his smile fades.
“There’s not even five girls I can think of off the top of my head that I’d want to sleep with.”
I cock my head. “My sister, for starters—that’s one.”
“Yeah,” he wobbles his head. “That’s only because she looks like you, though.”
“That’s so twisted.”
“There’s only one girl I’m interested in sleeping with, unfortunately.”
“I won’t cheat on Digby.”
He gives me a look, his lips twitching. “We’ll see about that.”
I raise my eyebrows, cock my head.
“I’m joking!” He holds his hands up but we both know he’s not.
∗ ∗ ∗
I end up staying the night.
I’m not sure how it happened but it just did. I helped him cook dinner which was honestly a complete shamble because I can’t cook but apparently he can now—had a lot of free time up in that Scottish castle.
He asked me about Freddy, too—first person to not tiptoe around it. He knows she isn’t here, that she’s America. The only person who actually felt not only upset for me but for her, as well. That’s something that not many people will think is special. When someone asks you about someone else, they’re never really that concerned for the other person. They’re just asking because they maybe care about you. Not Arthur, though. He cares about Freddy, he loves her, he’s worried for her.
And now I lay next to him in my underwear with the covers up to my neck because this house can get really cold. Icelandic cold. And neither one of us wanted to put the heating on because then we wouldn’t have an excuse to be in the same bed.
“Are you asleep yet?” I whisper.
He sighs. “I can’t fall asleep with you asking me if I’m asleep every thirty seconds.”
“Well, I just want to make sure we go to sleep at the same time!”
“Why?”
“Because this house is fucking scary!”
“Yeah, I bet my ancestors are well pissed off at us for watching what’s happened in this bed.”
“Ohmigod, don’t say that!” I kick him under the covers.
This isn’t cheating, by the way. Firstly, because I say it isn’t and secondly, we’re not touching so it doesn’t technically count but nevertheless, Digby will not be hearing about this. The wanker hasn’t even bothered to call or text me all day. So, actually, yeah—I might go home tomorrow and tell him (I won’t).
But to be honest, what Digby doesn’t know won't kill him.
