‘I’d better …’ he said, letting his words trail off as he accepted defeat.
‘You’d better,’ I agreed even though I didn’t want to let him go. ‘He looks like he’s had a few and the last thing we need is him pitching aButterflies/Coralinecrossover.’
With every step away from me, Joe’s long, confident stride returned, the easy-going smile sliding into place for everyone to see. He only paused once, to glance back over his shoulder at me, his expression flickering for just a split-second.
‘He doesn’t do relationships,’ I told myself unnecessarily and when I saw CJ approaching with a sickly-sweet grin on his face, added, ‘And you don’t get involved with wankers.’
‘Who’s a wanker?’ he asked, sidling up beside me in his impossibly skinny black suit.
‘You,’ I replied with fluttering eyelashes. ‘What do you want?’
He looked genuinely put out.
‘What? A man can’t say hello to his ex-girlfriend at her dad’s birthday party?’
‘Think about what you just said then answer your own question.’
I started to walk away but he placed a hand on my shoulder and my whole body shivered with revulsion. It felt wrong and painful, like stepping on a slug with one foot only to stand on a piece of Lego with the other. Looking up to the sky, I tried to remember the name of some ancient rain god and begged for divine intervention.
‘You were missed this afternoon,’ he said as I shrugged him off. ‘I hope you weren’t hiding away because of me.’
‘Colin, please,’ I begged. ‘It’s been a long day and I don’t have the energy for your particular brand of bollocks right now.’
‘CJ, please. And calm down, I only wanted to congratulate you on your book.’
‘What book?’ I stepped back, confused.
‘Butterflies,’ he replied, pushing his little wire-framed glasses up his nose. ‘Walsh didn’t write it, you did.’
All I had to do was deny it.
Or laugh in his face, roll my eyes or turn around and walk away. But there was something about the smug look on his face that stopped me from doing the sensible thing.
‘What makes you say that?’
His mouth curved up into a wicked smile and I knew I’d given the game away.
‘You forget how well I know you,’ he replied, flipping a strand of hair off my shoulder, making me involuntarily gip. Did everyone feel this way about their exes? We’d been so intimate for so long but the thought of him touching me now made me want to run inside and take a shower with a bottle of bleach and a scouring pad.
‘That book has got you written all over it, the references, the jokes, the lead character’s obsession with Nutella. I only wish you’d been so forthcoming with your fantasies when we were together, maybe things would’ve worked out differently.’
‘Happy to confirm they wouldn’t,’ I replied, pulling my hair away and very much wishing I had my cardiganwith me. My cardigan, a used bin bag, a dead badger. Anything to cover up my bare skin.
‘Sometimes we have to go through great heartbreak to unlock our art,’ he mused, rubbing his designer stubble and looking up to the sky. ‘I had to end things between us so we could both achieve greatness, I’m sure you understand that now.’
‘I understand you wouldn’t know humility if it kicked you up the arse and I understand my book has outsold yours by more than ten to one.’
‘So you’re keeping check on my sales.’ He lowered his gaze, aiming for sultry but landing somewhere closer to extremely short-sighted, then took my hand in his. ‘Sophie, I’ve been thinking. What if we were to give it another try?’
Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
‘Picture it,’ CJ said with a purr. ‘We could be a publishing power couple, the literary darling and his commercial superstar. A modern-day Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin, F Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda, Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath.’
‘And I’ll be going the same way as Sylvia Plath if you don’t stop talking immediately.’ I stared at my ex-boyfriend. Who was this lunatic? ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Why not?’ he reasoned. ‘Things are different now.’
