I’d showered before I’d gotten in bed, like Lady Macbeth washing blood from her hands. I could face him later, pretend it was meaningless, like I suspected it had been for him. I could brush off the feelings I might have too.
I could present myself in anyway I wanted, but that didn’t change that us having sex hadn’t just changed my summer. Just like I knew it would, it’d changed something in me.
Pulling a silk house coat around me, I headed onto the balcony. There was no breeze today; the sky was a perfect unmarred blue. The rest week had been hotter than average and today was going to be the same.
Livi was on the patio, wearing a navy kaftan, her hair swept up onto her head. She held a jug of water and was talking to one of her guests.
Any remnants of last night had already been cleared away, leaving everywhere just as it should be. Tidy. Clean.
She looked up and saw me, waving and then blowing a kiss. Lawrie stood behind her, wearing neat chinos and a crisp white shirt. He was talking to someone his age that I didn’t recognise, not from London or Ibiza.
I waved back and blew her a kiss. I couldn’t be sad on a day like today.
Not when I was free and in such a glorious place.
Chapter Fourteen
Tommy
It was too dark a room to be in on such a fucking beautiful day.
It was also a hundred times removed from where I wanted to be right now, and I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be less. Hell, jail, a Celine Dion concert – all of them would be better than this cesspit of a room.
I looked at my watch; six forty-five in the morning, just about when the last of the clubbers were heading back to their apartments, or families with small children were waking up to make the most of the quiet beaches and cafés.
The person lying on the bed, still fully dressed, was not going to be making the most of the day. He’d be lucky if he saw the evening, the way I was feeling right now.
A gentle snore that only those without a conscience or who were a saintly nun could produce broke the silence.
I cracked my knuckles.
I was getting bored, waiting for Sleeping Beauty to wake up without a kiss. Next to his bed was a pint glass filled with what was either water or cheap vodka. I stood up and took the few steps to pick it up, tipping it over his head, saturating him and his pillow.
There was spluttering and words that would make his mother blush, before my dear cousin sat up, looking around him as if he’d landed in his own personal hell.
He had.
“What the fuck…”
“Morning, Ashley. Heavy night?”
“Fuck.” He used the sheet to dry his face. “What…” He shook his head, as if thinking I was a mirage that would disappear.
His luck was out.
“What am I doing here?”
“Pretty much.”
“I had the pleasure of meeting Marcus Lawrence last night.”
Ash’s face paled.
“Just like I’ve got the pleasure of tidying up all the shit you’ve left. Again.”
He rubbed his face. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven.”
