I chew the inside of my cheek. Daniel. The name still stings. Ten years of my life wrapped around a man who made everything conditional.
“He sounds serious,” I say quietly.
Craig’s voice sharpens. “Serious? Tom, he was serious about controlling what you wore to brunch. He was serious about making you doubt yourself every five minutes. About you walking on eggshells every day. He doesn’t get another chance.”
I nod, though he can’t see me. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
The warmth returns to Craig’s tone. “Forget Daniel. You’ve got something good starting here with your new imaginary husband Pete. Don’t let that bastard ruin it before it’s even begun.”
I swallow. “Okay. I’ll try.”
Craig exhales, satisfied. “Good. Now, enough drama. Come over for dinner this week — Thursday? I’ll cook. We can make plans about how you’re going to live in Tesco for the next month until you bump into this guy again.”
I grin. “Deal. As long as it’s not that lentil stew again.”
“Excuse me,” Craig protests, “my lentil stew is legendary.”
“It’s legendary for giving me wind.”
By the time we say our goodnights, my chest aches with affection for my best friend.
But when the line goes dead, silence creeps back in. I stare at Daniel’s message, thumb hovering. Craig’s voice echoes in my head:ignore it.
I should. I know I should.
Instead, I type:About what?And hit send before I can stop myself.
The second it goes, regret prickles at my skin. Too late now.
I set the phone down on my chest, close my eyes. I listen to the faint hum of traffic outside, the purr of Buster curled on the chair. I tell myself I won’t look at the screen again, not until morning.
Another buzz.
I don’t want to look. But I have to. Just to know. I reach for my phone.
The message is not from Daniel.
There’s a momentary sigh of relief, which swiftly disappears as I recognise the name on the screen.
Another name that sends a shiver down my spine.
Another message I don’t want to read, but know I have to.
I can’t stop thinking about the blood,the message reads.
Chapter 6
DANIEL
The phone glows in Daniel’s hand, lighting up his face in the darkness. One message sits on the screen. Two words.About what?
That’s it. No warmth, no eagerness, no contrition. Just cold, clipped letters that make his jaw tighten.
He hasn’t replied. Not yet. He’s been staring at it for over three hours, thumb hovering, mind racing. He had expected Tom to agree instantly.We need to meet.That should have been enough. After everything they’d been through. After a decade together. Ten years of marriage that Tom has apparently discarded like an old jumper.
Daniel mutters under his breath. “About what? About us. About everything you threw away.”
