For the first time in days, the black Porsche was nowhere to be seen.
I hadn’t prepared for this.I don’t knowwhy, but I hadn’t.I should have known the video was a warning, that he’d easily find my new address, because Lucas’s efforts on my behalf had actually worked.I was getting popular.
I found myself even more agoraphobic than usual—the thought of running into him made my stomach knot—but I had to get moving.Lucas was off doing fancy art man stuff, and I was very nearly late for apas de trois.
“And where’s the delightful American?”Winnie immediately cornered me in the hallway, blue-veined hands on the hips of her flower-patterned housecoat.“Haven’t run him off, have you?Shame, he’s been so good about taking the bins outandhelping me with my shopping, and if you’ve run him off—”
“Afternoon, Winifred.No, I haven’t run Lucas off yet.”
On the contrary, he’d agreed to stay longer.Not because ofme, mind you, and it could honestly be argued that he was staying in Londondespiteme.No, it was because the human personification of French Smarm—who drove a sports car now—had finally resurfaced, identified the obvious weakness in our relationship—and myself as an individual—and very naturally leveraged both against Lucas’s lifelong dream.
Miraculously, I managed to say none of that.“He’s out taking pictures.Though hewillhave to return to America at some point.”
Winnie pouted and made her eyes—already enormous behind her tinted spectacles—even larger.“Not if you marry him.”
I rearranged the ragged old dance bag on my shoulder and pretended I wasn’t blushing.“More of that and you’ll run him off for me, Winnie.”
“Nonsense, he’s arse over teakettle for you.”
I had to get out of here.“Ta, Winnie.”
“Haven’t got a mo to change my kitchen light, have you?”
I sighed.“Of course.”
After changing Winnie’s kitchen light, dusting the top of the cabinets while I was up there, and accepting two pairs of her dead husband’s jumpers that he’d barely worn and she couldn’t bear to throw away, I finally escaped to Soho.
I could hear music blaring from outside Florabelle’s studio, which meant she and Sam were already mid warm-up.Craig was sitting on the floor in the corner, eating McDonald’s.
“Ah, His Majesty deigns to arrive.”Belle grinned at me from her straddle stretch, chin in hands, elbows on the floor.Craig gave a little wave, and Sam, who was running in place, caught my eye in the mirror and waggled their eyebrows.
“Too busy with the boyfriend?”
If only.I set my bag down, slipped off my shoes, and started my stretches, not looking at any of them.“Sorry.”
“Oh, youwillbe sorry.”Belle moved fluidly to her feet.“Was gonna go easy on you, Armo, but then you was tardy, so ...”
Craig giggled into his hamburger.
I was severely out of shape.I couldn’t remember the last time I’d committed to a full hour of dancing, and Belle and Sam put me through the ringer, as if we were all still in school and in our early twenties, and not accustomed to smoking half a pack a day or less than two months sober ...
And it felt bloody amazing.Florabelle put on an old show playlist, and we did a routine that, years ago, would’ve been an easy workout.
“Oh,god.”I stretched out in child’s pose and heaved.“I’m gonna chunder.I’m catting.Immapuke.”
“Not on my floors, you ain’t.”Florabelle stood over me, barely out of breath.
“Not bad, for a dead man.”Sam, their grin very nearly wider than their face, sat next to me and offered a water.
“Ta.”I groaned, then sat up long enough to take a few gulps.
“So, have you told Lucas yet?”Sam asked.
I very much did not spray water across Florabelle’s wall mirror.“Whot?”
“You know what.”Craig, who was cleaning up the remains of his lunch, gave me a meaningful look.
Sam nodded.“Craig spottedhimleaving your anniversary gig.”
