I slink in and shut the door behind me. He shoots up and wraps me in his arms and kisses me, and I collapse into him.
‘I’m so tired,’ I mutter into his neck.
‘Poor baby.’ He rubs my back. ‘You’ve got so much on your plate at the moment. You signed Burberry yet?’
‘Next week, hopefully.’ I’m touched he’s mentioned it, because I feel guilty even bringing it up. It’s like waving a huge, eight-figure reminder that I’m choosing to commit to my marriage-slash-fucked-up-business-partnership with Jackson over Noah. We’ve carried on much as usual since his declaration the other day. Neither of us knows what else to do.
‘Well, let’s get you home. Is Di outside?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. You know it’s pissing it down out there?’
‘Is it?’ I’ve been oblivious.
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got you. I’ll see you out.’ He grabs a golf umbrella from a stand by his door, and I tug my trench coat loosely over my shoulders.
In the deserted hallway, Noah kisses me slowly, tenderly on the lips. ‘Good night, my darling. See you tomorrow, maybe?’
I trace a finger over his cupid’s bow. ‘Try keeping me away.’
He tears his gaze from me, and hauls open the heavy front door.
‘Shit. It’s revolting. Wait a sec.’ He edges out onto the top step and opens the umbrella with a flourish, then gestures to me to come out. ‘Careful. It’s slippy.’
I step out to join him.
I tuck my hand through the crook of his arm and beam up at him.
One last fix for the night.
He smiles down at me. Intimately. Lovingly. I drink him in.
And just like that, the surrounding darkness explodes in a blinding burst of camera flashes.
CHAPTER 28
Honor
‘Fuck. You look like fucking Meghan and Harry.’ Mara’s on the other end of a FaceTime call with me. It’s nearly 6am and I’ve barely slept. I doubt Mara’s had any sleep at all.
‘Huh?’ I lean my elbows on the kitchen island and press the pads of my thumbs against my eyelids until I see stars.
‘Remember that photo? The one that went viral. Meghan and Harry standing under an umbrella, beaming at each other in the rain. It was like a fucking Disney movie.’
Vaguely. ‘What about it?’
‘You and this doctor look like them. You’ve got the look of love, all right.’
‘Shut up and send it over.’
‘It’s already up on thePost’s homepage.’
I sigh and click through. Holy shit. The photo thePosthas run with on their homepage makes my heart leap into my mouth. There Noah and I are under the umbrella, beautifully backlit against the gentle light from the Good Vibes hallway, with the raindrops in the foreground illuminated into amillion sparkles courtesy of the camera flash. Our faces are turned to each other; my arm is linked with his.
Mara’s right. It is indeed the look of love. Noah and me, our hearts laid bare for the world’s news outlets. Fuck fuck fuck.
Noah’s texted me so many times overnight. When the flashes went off, we both froze, before I hissed at him to get back inside and shut the door, quick. I then proceeded as quickly as I could to the car, my heels slipping on the wet pavement, so a pale-faced and apologetic Di could whisk her away.
