“Really?” Emerald asks. “Your biggest regret isn’t Jett?”
I pause.
“I’m not sure what I could have done differently with Jett,” I admit. “That’s the thing. I know what I did to you. I know it was wrong. But I didn’t tell anyone about me and Jett. I didn’t tell Scarlett, no matter what everyone thinks.”
“Oh, I know that,” she says, surprising me. “I meant it in the sense of regretting you didn’t tell him how you felt about him,” she goes on. “Because you did really love him, didn’t you? Anyone could see that. Or have I got it wrong? Oh God, have I?”
She puts her hands over her face in mortification, and I rush to reassure her.
“No, you haven’t,” I admit. “I do love him. And I should have told him. You’re right about that. But how did you know it wasn’t me who gave Scarlett the story? Everyone else thinks I did.”
“Scarlett told me,” Emerald says, her eyes wide. “She didn’t tell me who it really was,” she adds, hurriedly. “She has to protect her source, you know? But she did say it definitely wasn’t you. She’s been telling everyone that.”
I sit there on the bed, dumbfounded.
Scarlett knows who the “source” was. Of course she does.
Which means that Scarlett actuallycanclear my name with Jett.
“I need to call her,” I say abruptly, jumping up from the bed. “I need to talk to Scarlett. Thank you, Emerald. Thank you for telling me this. Thank you for coming here.”
I lean over and hug her impulsively, and, after a moment’s hesitation, she hugs me back.
“I better go,” she says awkwardly as she pulls away. “Jack’s waiting for me.”
“Oh! Speaking of Jack,” I say, remembering. “I need you to give him a message from me. Well, from Mum, really. It’s actually more of a proposition —”
* * *
As soon as Emerald leaves, I fish Scarlett’s note out of the bin, thanking God for Mum’s poor housekeeping skills, which mean she hasn’t bothered to empty it while I’ve been hiding out in my room. When I call the number, though, it just goes straight to voicemail, so I call back and leave her a message, then, just to be sure she gets it, I type out a quick text.
It’s Lexie. Please call me. Or just come round. It’s urgent.
After that, I don’t know what to do with myself. The burst of adrenalin that gave me the energy to call Scarlett disappeared as soon as I realized she wasn’t going to pick up, so I go back upstairs, and throw myself back onto the bed again, to mope.
I’m so tired of myself right now. I wish I could just wrap myself up and put myself away in a drawer for a while — maybe rediscover myself in a few months’ time, lurking in my mothballs, and a little bit musty with time. Maybe then I’d shake myself out and brush myself down, and the me I’d discover would seem new again. I’d slip myself back on the way you slip on a favorite old sweater — the one you always looked good in, which you haven’t worn for months — and it’s as good as buying new clothes. I’d like to buy a new me. Or a new life, maybe. Either would do.
Instead, I pull the covers over my head and let myself drift off to sleep. I’m woken what feels like a long time later by the sound of someone banging on the door, and I jump out of bed and race downstairs to open it before Mum can get there.
“Scarlett, at last,” I say, pulling the door open and blinking as the light streams in. It must be morning, then. I guess I slept right through the night. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to turn up.”
“Sorry,” says a familiar voice that definitely isn’t the one I’m expecting. “I got here as fast as I could.”
I look up, rubbing my eyes to make sure I’m not imagining it.
It’s not Scarlett.
It’s Jett.
Chapter 39
Flashbulbs explode in my face as I stand there on the doorstep, too surprised to speak.
“Um, are you going to invite me in?” Jett says, glancing over his shoulder to where the paps are going wild, all shouting over the top of one another and struggling for space.
“That depends,” I say cautiously. “Are you going to give me a chance to tell you my side of the story? Or are you just going to break my heart again?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he replies softly. “Do you think I’d have come all this way just to break your heart? It’s not exactly a short flight.”
