Page 153 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
She nods. “Now me and no one else.”
I frown, all a bit confused with how she’s taking this. “Do you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“What you’ve said for so many years—do you actually mean it because Phoebs, that’s—”
Her smile is shaky but it’s there and she nods. “Yeah, Arthur. I mean it. Every word. Always have.”
“Don’t go hating yourself for not hating me though, yeah?”
Her smile stretches, reaches her eyes and she lets out a little laugh. “Arthur, I ran to you because I love you and all I’ve wanted is you. You and the truth, Arthur. That’s it and that’s what I’ve got.”
I hide my smile behind my hand, tilt my head, eyes locked on hers.
“You still want me after that?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “You still want me after finding out all the mental things wrong with me, so?”
“What mental things?”
She smiles again, leans down and presses her lips to mine because this is our dance, isn’t it? Always has been. The steps are familiar, the music is the same and the crowd is non-existent.
And I know, there’s more things that I need to tell her. The letters, the ring that’s in the pocket of my pants that are now on the floor, the relapse in Scotland but one thing at a time, yeah? I’m sure there’s things that she hasn’t told me but as of right now, as I come down on top of her, I’m not sure I want to hear them.
There’s a weird atmosphere afterwards. She lays on my chest for only a few minutes before she jumps up, puts her dress back on and touches up her makeup in the mirror.
I sit up, she turns around. “I love you, Arthur.”
“I love you, too—always have, always you.”
She comes over, bends down, kisses my lips.
“But I have to go.”
I grab her wrist as she goes to leave. “You can leave him right now, Phoebs.”
She shakes her head, swallows. “It’s not that easy for me. Maybe for you but not for me.”
And then she walks out, closes the door behind her and I’m left in her bed feeling like this is over—not completely. Never completely. But maybe, I think, this chapter has ended and we’ve turned over the page to start a new one.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lady Phoebe
Autumn in London is beautiful, isn’t it? Early September so the sun still comes out for a couple of days before ducking behind grey clouds. The leaves are threatening to fall and the rain is fresh.
Digby and I walk hand in hand around Hyde Park after catching a late lunch in Hide over in Mayfair. He picked me up after I finished going over some last minute samples for my new equestrian range. Mum isn’t around a lot lately. Nor is Dad, actually. I know they work but it feels a bit personal sometimes, like, just because I’ve grown up, I still need my parents, you know?
Anyway, Dr.Kane says I’m not to blame them anymore.
I know you’re confused—wondering what happened over the summer but to be honest, there isn’t much to tell. Arthur admitted something to me that’s been keeping me up at night and Digby took the proposal (or lack thereof) fairly well. He said he was rushing into it and that we should just take things slow until I’m ready.
Arthur scared me. What he said. I didn’t like it—I don’t know anyone that would—but it hasn’t kept me away just like the drugs and everything else didn’t.
We’re sleeping together again only this time, Digby has no idea and thinks I’m all for him. It’s shit, I know. I don’t know why I can’t bring myself to just finish with him. Maybe it’s because of days like this. Just us two, walking around, being normal. Normal is nice and not something I ever really got with Arthur.
We didn’t go to Wimbledon this year. Not only is it a fucking snoozefest, but the pictures of me were still surfacing so I kind of just grabbed onto that as my ticket to not attend anything I didn’t want to. Everyone was right, though. It did blow over a few weeks later. Doesn’t mean it’s blown over for me, though.
