Though it doesn’t give me a fraction of the joy I thought it would.
‘Consider it done.’
Is it possible Alex Benedict didn't get his womanising ways from the wind?
‘Where’s Phoebe? Did she get wind of any of this?’ The poor child has seen enough instability to last her a lifetime. This would probably tip her over the edge.
‘She’s asleep. She’s fine. She has no idea.’ My mother inhales a shaky breath. ‘Can you come home? I can’t give her the attention she needs. My head is spinning.’
‘Of course.’ I gaze out across the port. ‘I’m on my way. Hang on in there, Mam.’
‘That’s what I’ve been doing for years, hanging on.’ She scoffs bitterly. ‘No more, Cillian. No more.’ She disconnects the phone.
I creep back inside, blowing my breath onto my hands in a bid to warm them up. The glow from the phone casts a dim light on Ava. She’s curled into the foetal position on the other side of the bed. My chest tightens.
Was I too hard on her last night?
I don’t know.
Bonnie’s words shocked me more than I’d care to admit. But the truth is, it’s the depth and strength of my feelings for Ava that shock me the most. She used the L word when I wasn't brave enough to.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough.
I have to go but I hate leaving like this with everything up in the air.
I wanted space, maybe this is the Universe delivering.
Maybe in a couple of days things will feel different. Clearer, perhaps.
I toss my belongings into my small suitcase, throw on some casual clothes, and open the door as quietly as possible. Taking one last glance backwards over my shoulder, I exhale a heavy sigh. I’ll call later. Explain.
Just as soon as I get my own head around everything.
ChapterThirty-Nine
AVA
Wednesday 20th December
I wake to an empty bed.
Cillian’s gone.
His stuff is gone.
Bonnie and her big fucking mouth.
No, that’s not fair. I had ample opportunity to admit to Cillian that I’d had my eye on him for the best part of a year. Though the guy I used to fantasise about wasn't real. The guy who used to walk past my office window was perfect, in my mind at least. And in real life, there’s no such thing.
We’re all flawed.
Wounded in some way.
Wearing invisible scars that only we can feel the pain of.
And unfortunately, something as innocent as failing to mention I’d been harbouring a crush for the best part of a year sliced Cillian’s trust-wound right open. Given what Teagan did to him, it’s no wonder.
But I am not Teagan. Nor anything like her.
