Page 3 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“I’ve been busy.”
“How are you?”
“Fine.”
She sighed. “I know that’s not true.”
“I just told Griff it was fine. That’s life. One of those things. I can’t chat. Sorry. Lot to do.” He ended the call and dropped the phone back on his desk.
His mood worsened as the day went on. He knew his world would turn again, given time—that little homily better be fucking true—but it wasn’t turning now, which was all that mattered.
When he was called in to see his boss that afternoon, he anticipated being told to pull himself together and stop being such a dick to everyone. Devan dropped into the chair in front of Alan’s desk and stared out of the window. Light was glinting off The Shard, the glass dagger piercing the London sky, a thought that then pierced his heart because the last time he’d been in the Shard’s 31stfloor bar had been when he and Ravi—Stop it!
“Are you listening?”
Devan looked up to find Alan staring at him over his wire-rimmed glasses.
“Sorry,” Devan said.
Probably the only word he should utter today.I could do that. Say sorry to everyone.Except not to Griff.
“Are you okay?” Alan asked.
“I’m fine.”
Alan snorted. If he suggested counselling, or an anger management course, Devan would hit him. Not even the irony of that could make him smile.
“How about a proper holiday?” Alan asked. “You have plenty of days owing.”
And why is that, Alan?Devan simmered like a rumbling volcano.
“Ah. Sorry.” Alan winced, presumably registering why Devan had so many days untaken after the honeymoon hadn’t happened. “But I really think you should go away for a while. Have a break.”
“No.” Because it was better to fill his time with work. Time to think was worse for his health than alcohol.
“Look. I don’t want you both in the same space. Bad enough when your wedding didn’t go ahead, but now that Ravi is going to be part of your life in a different way, you need to get your head in gear. I can’t have you and Griff arguing and fighting. It’s not good for the business. It makes the office unsettled.” Alan put a folder on the desk between them. “What about you taking this instead of Griff and Jane.”
Devan tensed.
“I’ll get the name changed on the booking. Tomorrow night until Sunday. A bit of sea air might do you good.”
Yes, mother.
Alan put another folder on top of the first. “Check out this one too. It should make an interesting comparison. I know you don’t normally visit until after the first report, but if you go, we’ll save time. And Devan? Take time out for yourself. I mean it.”
“You’re so desperate to keep me out of the office?”
“To keep you apart. Just for a while.”
“Then let Griff go.”
“This isn’t just about the job. Take a break. You need space to think. An opportunity to see past what’s happened and look at it objectively. They’re going to be part of your life. You have to accept it.”
No, I fucking don’t.Devan’s fists clenched again. It was a wonder he didn’t have nail marks in his palms, his very own stigmata.
Humiliation brought bile surging up his gullet. What was worse was that no one reallydidknow what had happened five months ago. Not the truth anyway, and that washisfault,hischoice, and now hisburden.
“You know there’s aBreakup Manual for Menif you—”
