“Why?”
“Because I know your rule.”
I broke all my rules for you a long time ago.
“I think we should go check that she’s okay. Seriously, this Matt’s a fucking jerk. He turned up in Harare and demanded that she leave with him.”
“What happened?”
“I punched him.”
Seph’s jaw dropped open. “You’re fucking with me. You’ve never hit anyone.”
“He put a hand on her when she didn’t want it. So I put a fist on his jaw.” And I didn’t regret it one bit. I’d happily do it again – in fact, I’d take great pleasure in doing it again, just maybe a bit harder this time.
“I’ve never known you hit anyone before. Apart from Jackson.”
Jackson probably hadn’t deserved it. He’d taken out my new bike and ended up trashing it. I’d been sixteen and had saved up for it, doing jobs round the garden because Marie said I needed to understand ‘the value of money’.
“I don’t hit. But he deserved it. I did lamp a couple of tossers at uni if they started on Jonah or someone.”
Jonah. I hadn’t kept in touch with him, because of Wren, because of the short history we’d had. Because I didn’t need to.
“White knight, aren’t you Cal?” Seph grinned. “Come on. She’s met him in Whisky Ginger. Although she might’ve decided she likes him after all and they’ve gone back to his.”
I decided not to kill him, but only because Marie really liked him.
* * *
Wren wasn’t talkingto Matt. She was talking to a tall man wearing a suit, a three-piece suit, with glasses and a briefcase. He was stupidly good looking and I’d put money on him being a lawyer. I glanced at Seph. “Do you recognise him?”
Seph smiled. “That’s Carl Longden. He’s a barrister. We use him sometimes.”
Wren could speak to whoever she wanted to. I’d made no claim. Three times was the most I’d sleep with the same woman – I’d never had more than three nights with one woman and never that consecutively.
“He’s a nice guy. Loaded. But nice with it. He’d have been good for Payton if she hadn’t met Owen.”
Now I knew he was taking the fucking piss.
“He’s a twat, isn’t he?”
“Totally. Do you have any idea what you’re doing in this situation?” Seph actually looked concerned rather than amused.
“What situation? Wren’s a friend.”
He started to choke. “Want a beer or something stronger?”
“Beer’s fine. I don’t need anything stronger.” I did. I just wasn’t admitting it.
I tried not to stare while Seph went to the bar, not needing Wren to think I was a complete freaky stalker. I didn’t like what I was seeing; didn’t like how it was making me feel inside because I hadn’t felt that before and I had no idea what it was or what to do about it.
She looked happy and she glowed, something I hadn’t acknowledged before. Her hair was never perfect like some women: she pushed her fingers through it too much for it to be tidy so instead it looked as if the wind had been toying with it. She wore jeans and a tight top that showed off the curves my hands had taken the time to memorise, always in case it would be the last time and I’d need the memory of how she felt against me, under me. The softness of her skin was a ghost in my hands.
“Do you understand how you look right now?”
I jumped as Seph spoke. “Like a god.”
He laughed. “Seriously, bro. You look like you need something that cures heartsickness or something.”
