Page 90 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I try to tell myself to breathe how I was just a moment ago but for some reason I can’t. I don’t feel drunk anymore, just disgustingly warm.
“Alright,” Connie says in my ear, the stench of gin coming off him. “I’ll take you home.”
We go outside, the air is warmer than what I expected it to be and my stomach twists and I start to wonder why I even went out in the first place.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him as we climb into the back of a cab.
“For what?”
“For ruining your night.”
He shakes his head. “I wasn’t having a great time, anyway.”
“Will Arthur be cross with me?”
Connie turns to face me. “Do you wanna see him? Or do you want to go home to Digby?”
Chin in my hand, I stare out of the car window. “That isn’t home, Connie—you know it’s not.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Prince Arthur
There’s a knock but I close my eyes but then it happens again, more insistent, three knocks in a row—bang, bang, bang.
I blink, register that I’m in bed and that it’s pitch black outside. Another three or four knocks follow so I jump out of bed in nothing but my boxers and go to the front door, flicking the hallway light on as I go.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t Connie three sheets to the wind with Phoebe slumped at his side.
Before I can say anything, he pushes past me, goes to the couch, sits down with Phoebe.
Rub my eyes, follow them, frown at him.
“What—?”
Connie shakes his head. “She’s fucked. We went out for a few but she got carried away.”
My stomach dips. “Why?”
He shrugs, yawns, rests his head back against the sofa.
She sits there, her head rolling to rest on her shoulder, her eyes half open. I think it’s my fault. She wouldn’t have done this if we were together, right? This isn’t the sort of thing she does—but, what if it is? I’m then slapped in the face by the reminder of my absence.
I’ve been thinking that going away has done more harm than good. If I stayed, we would’ve been together—sure, I probably would’ve been in a grave but I would’ve had her. I mean, we can be together now, there’s nothing more I want but she doesn’t seem to want that and I can’t for the life of me understand why.
For as long as I’ve been conscious, I’ve known my reason for living was her. She’s all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever seen, all I’ve ever loved. The love I have for her isn’t the kind of love that just passes by you like a fleeting kiss with a stranger, it’s the kind that hits you out of nowhere and takes you flying across the world.
“Phoebe?” I nudge her foot with mine.
She jerks awake, blinks a few times.
“You okay?” I frown. “Want a water or something?”
She shakes her head but I get up to give her one anyway. I’ve been in worse states in the past—trust me, she’ll want some water when she wakes up.
Connie’s out like a light on the sofa so I ignore him, put the glass of water on the coffee table, hold my hands out in front of Phoebe. “Come on, I’ll put you to bed.”
“Will you?” She tilts her head, smiles crookedly. “That’s nice of you.”
