Page 98 of Commitment Issues
“I take it he’s not spoken to you? About what happened?”
“What are you talking about?”
My heart’s running at a mile a minute as the scenarios speed past me. An accident. Sudden illness. Police. Hospital. Ambulances… Cosmo’s staring at me, indecision in his eyes, and I know that whatever it is, it’s none of these.
“It’s not really for me—”
“What’s happened?” My voice is an angry growl, and I take a step forward. Cosmo moves back, his palms facing out towards me.
“Okay, okay.” He shakes his head hard as he scrunches his brow. “I told the stupid twat to speak to you.”
“Cosmo—”
“All right, hold your horses. I’ll tell you, but I’m going to have a cuppa and so are you.”
He spins around on his heel and I follow him to the kitchen, where he switches on the kettle and drops the tea bags into two mugs. I want to laugh. Tea, the righter of all wrongs, a soothing balm in a cup.
“Sit down.” Cosmo nods to the table, where he joins me with the drinks. “Gavin.”
“What? What are you—?”
“Gavin, that’s what’s happened.” He puts his mug down and leans forward. “Gavin, your ex-fiancé, is an evil, lying bastard. They bumped into each other in Waterstones, and Gavin told Freddie that you and him are getting back together. That you weren’t on a recent business trip because you were planning your reunion. I told Freddie it was all bollocks, because you’d never treat him like that. I told him Gavin’s a liar. Is he?”
I’m barely taking in what Cosmo’s telling me as the image, the obscene image, of Gavin dripping poison into Freddie’s ear is branded into my brain. I’m gaping, I know I am, and I clamp my mouth closed as I stare into Cosmo’s assessing, scrutinising eyes that are the double of James’.
“Of course Gavin’s lying, of course he fucking is. There’s not a chance in hell I’d ever get back with him. Jesus Christ!”
And Gavin knows that.
I jump up from the table, my blood raging through me.
All the sidling up to me in France. Telling me he’d made a mistake. Telling me he still loved me. Telling me he wanted us to be together again. And me, telling him no, telling him we weren’t just over, but dead and buried. This is his revenge. He stumbled upon an opportunity, stuck the knife in and twisted hard.
I’ve never hated him, never. All the things he said and did, I never hated him. But I hate him now. For his vicious and vindictive lies, I hate him.
“Elliot! Stop, just calm down for God’s sake.”
Cosmo shoves me back in the chair, standing over me, blocking the way, his fists planted on his hips. His voice is sharp, cutting through the red mist of my anger.
“It’s not true, none of it’s true,” I whisper, as I slump forward, every part of me trembling.
“I know it’s not, and I tried to tell Freddie that, but…”
“But what?” I lift my head, but it’s as though I’m trying to drag up a wreck from the sea bed. “What, Cosmo. Butwhat?”
He golfballs his cheeks, before releasing a long exhale. He leans back against the table.
“Freddie said he felt that things had changed between you, that you were kind of distancing yourself. He’s adamant the two of you are just casual, which is bull in itself, because that’s not his style. Too prudish, and up tight—”
“Too suburban?” Just like me.
“Oh, suburban’s too wild for him. He’s from some Godforsaken, out of the way crease on the map on the Suffolk coast, remember. Anyway, when Gavin pulled his stunt, unbeknown to him he was feeding Freddie’s festering belief that you were pushing him away, and that history was repeating itself. Which it’s not, is it?” There’s a snap in his voice, a cold steel edge, and his eyes glitter like the hardest emeralds.
“What do you mean, history repeating itself?” But I know. The knowledge is making its dark way up my spine.
Cosmo swears under his breath.
“He hasn’t told you, has he? About Paul Stringer?”
