He leaves her little choice, already across the lounge and holding the door open for her.
After showering, I choose a spare room and slip under the covers of the double bed. Despite the early hour, I find myself drifting off to sleep when the door opens and light from the landing creeps into the room.
‘Scarlett?’
I keep my eyes closed, being careful not to over-squeeze them and make it obvious that I’m awake. The bed dips as his weight rests down on the opposite side to mine. I feel him moveclose to me, checking whether I’m asleep. Satisfied, he pulls the duvet higher up my arm and presses his lips to my temple. As he lingers against my skin, I breathe in his familiar scent.
He sits up but doesn’t leave the bed.
‘I’m screwing this up more than I could’ve even imagined. I’m not afraid of forever. I’m afraid of doing to you what I’ve done to everyone I’ve ever really cared about. Hurting you. Failing to protect you, like I already have.’ He sighs. ‘A baby just like you would be incredible. Your perfect nose, those soft, red lips, your sparkling, green eyes, so bright and full of life. A little girl with your mind, even your sassy attitude. But you don’t want that with me, Scarlett. Not really. Another little person for me to mess up. You were right on Saturday. I just need to make you see that.’
He leans in and presses his lips to my temple again.
‘Aurora,’ he whispers before his weight lifts from the mattress.
‘Gregory.’
‘Yes, baby?’
I speak without moving to face him. ‘I don’t know how much more I can take. You pick me up, take me higher than I’ve ever felt. Then you break my heart, you break me and I just don’t know if I can keep crawling back to my feet.’
‘I know.’ He sighs. ‘I’m going to stop hurting you. I promise.’
‘Gregory, if the CPS decides to charge you, I’m telling the truth.’
If we break,the last thing I’ll do is make sure you’re free.The thought kills me but it’s a real possibility and I need to start recognising it.
The truth can set him free, finally.
20
KC John Harrison called late morning to say the new ballistics report is back. The findings are broadly the same, the shot was taken at a distance, but there are new anomalies. The CPS decision is going to come this afternoon. I put in a last-minute half-day of leave, although I might as well have put in a full day for the amount of work I got through this morning. I packed up my things on the stroke of twelve thirty and now I’m sitting in the back of the Mercedes as Jackson drives us to the Shard, the tightness in my chest and the throb in my head more prevalent than ever.
This is it. Today is the day I pay for what I’ve done. Retribution for my vengeance, Gregory’s vengeance. Punishment for letting my desire for Gregory talk me into a hostile takeover and everything it brought on my father and my friends. Whilst it’s scary as hell and I’ve got no idea what my future will hold beyond today, I have a sense of rightness, a sense that I’m about to do the right thing. That’s who I am: plain, black-and-white Scarlett Heath. And whatever comes, I’llaccept it knowing that Gregory is alive and that he’ll finally be free.
The CPS will make its decision and Gregory will understand that, despite his best efforts – efforts that I’m truly grateful for – he couldn’t protect me from this fate. He won’t be punished for a crime I committed.
He might never rid himself of his demons – he’s already spent thirty years trying to do that – but he won’t sit in a prison cell replaying that night over and over again for the next twenty-five years of his life.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries and congratulations for the engagement on my part, Jackson slipped into the driver seat in silence and we’ve moved through the city roads that way. His attention fixed forward, not casting a glance at me in the rear-view mirror like he usually does, not looking for conversation. He drives with one hand on the wheel, his other elbow resting on the window frame, his fingers pressing against his temple, a rare display of stress. He cares for Gregory, I think more than he’s comfortable showing.
People move through the streets beneath the overcast sky, phones to ears, hands in the pockets of winter coats, some eating lunch on the move, some walking with purpose, files in hand. I take it all in, absorbing the colours, the buildings, the sights and sounds of normal life. I have the same sense of surrealism that I had the day of my dad’s funeral. As Sandy and I rode behind the hearse, life altered, changed irrevocably, yet passers-by were oblivious, going about their business as if the world hadn’t slipped into a different realm, a darker reality. And now, whilst I accept that today could be my last day of freedom, they don’t look on or stop to stare. It’s like nothing’s changed, as if tonight, Gregory won’t be charged for murder then freed bymy confession and tomorrow, I won’t be sitting behind bars, the public protected from my vengeful actions.
But Gregory will be free. And before I go to the station and make my statement, I’ll tell him that he has to move on. Not from me – that much will be simple. But he has to take a chance on the next woman who falls in love with him. He has to accept that itispossible for someone to love him, all of him, messed up, dark and all. Otherwise, it’ll all have been for nothing. Saving the little boy I see in my dreams, worthless.
‘Hi,’ I say when I open the door.
Gregory leans forward on the breakfast bar, resting his two large hands on either side of the worktop. He’s already removed his tie, my favourite tie, the one he wore the first time I saw him. The same crisp, white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck and the same navy suit rests perfectly on his broad shoulders, the way it did that first day in the boardroom. A rogue hair hangs across one eye as he looks up at me: a sign his fingers have been pulled through his hair more than once. He looks tired and troubled but still makes my heart race and my abdomen pull taut.
‘Tell me you’ve changed your mind.’ His voice is hoarse, desperate. ‘Please, Scarlett.’
I don’t answer at first. I stare, lost in his soul, drinking him in. I want to remember every beautiful inch of him, the way he holds himself, the way he makes me feel when he looks at me, and the way fire ignites in my chest when he wants me. ‘I haven’t,’ I say and watch his head drop forward. ‘I don’t need you to like it, or accept it, but I do need you to respect my decision. This is the right thing to do, Gregory.’
‘I don’t like it and I don’t accept that it’s the right thing to do. You know I never will. But I willalwaysrespect you, Scarlett.’
I nod silently and make my way to the staircase.
‘But promise me one thing,’ he says.
