Page 103 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
“Don’t mess me about,” he warns, flicks his head over my shoulder. “Where is she? I just want to talk to her, make sure she’s alright.”
Digby goes to walk past me but I push his chest back.
“She’s more than alright, mate. Don’t worry.”
I see his face fall, like completely. His eyebrows drop, his jaw goes slack, his eyelids go heavy.
“Where is she?” He pronounces every word as if that’s going to get me to lead him to her. “Just tell me, Arthur.”
“Arthur, where on earth is my ice? My face is all puffy—oh my god.”
Both our heads whip around, lock on Phoebe standing on the bottom step of the stairs that lead up to the rooms.
“Digby,” she marches over. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She whispers, eyes darting around the lobby.
He immediately goes to her, leans in to kiss her, I think ,but she pulls back. “What are you doing?”
His face goes soft, tilts his head, grabs her hand. “I was worried. Just wanted to make sure you were okay but they,” he nods back over to the check in desk. “Wouldn’t tell me what room you were in.”
I can see it on her face, plain as day, that she doesn’t want him here, popping the bubble she was so comfortably wrapped up in with me last night.
Phoebe swallows, takes a deep breath then looks over at me. “Can you get my ice please?”
I frown, eyes darting between both of them. “I’m not leaving you with him.”
She rolls her eyes, Digby sniffs a laugh. “It’s fine, I promise. We’re just going to talk.”
She can see how uncomfortable this is making me so she grabs my wrist, pulls me over to the corner.
“It will be fine, just relax.”
“I am fine,” I pull back, nod over at Digby. “He’s the one who isn’t fine, should’ve seen the way he was going just a minute ago—they almost kicked him out!”
She sniffs, glances at her feet. “I know, I know—I’m sorry.” Something flashes through her eyes, something painful. “But you’re not my boyfriend, he is.”
My stomach dips, I nod, walk off to get the ice. My legs feel like jelly when I look back and see the two of them walking up the stairs. I swear to be as quick as possible because peoplecan be unpredictable when they’re angry and let’s be honest, Phoebe isn’t the best person to be around when you’re that riled up. She’s too soft, too innocent, too easy to hurt.
I get a champagne bucket filled with ice and then take the lift up to the room.
Will she be pissed at me?
I don’t know.
We’ve spent so long apart that I’m scared I don’t know her at all now.
But if she still is the Phoebe that I grew up with then I know she wants me to go in there, she wants me there because she doesn’t want to be alone with Digby.
I don’t knock, I don’t clear my throat, I just walk straight in.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Phoebe cries.
There’s a crash, a loud scattering on the floor.
I drop the ice, run into the bathroom.
Digby’s raging. All her makeup, all her stuff—all broken and bleeding over the tiles.
“Did you fucking sleep with him!” He shouts, gets in her face and that’s when it clocks—what I’m looking at.
