A slight young woman slips in, and he straightens, struck by her beauty even in the unflattering outfit and with her black hair in a haphazard bun. Her eyes widen as she takes in the book-lined walls and crystal chandelier, mouth gaping before clicking shut. Glancing warily at the room’s occupants, she lowers her head, shoulders hunching.
Reading her intent as she heads towards a lone chair at the back, Harley strides forward and holds it out. ‘Here you go.’
She flinches, hissing, ‘Don’t touch me.’
He jerks away. ‘I wasn’t going to.’ But he can’t help staring, admiring the warmth of her olive skin – she’s partly Spanish maybe, or Italian – although there’s pallor beneath the surface and heavy bags under her eyes. She looks haunted, wretched, and there’s something familiar?—
The clock starts bonging, interrupting his thoughts. He frowns, sure there should be another few minutes before it’s due to strike two.
At the same time,back off, she’s scared of you,the little voice says, as if he couldn’t work it out for himself.
‘I was just being a gentleman,’ he responds, before cursing inwardly. Why is he talking to the voice? Maybe he’s going mad.
‘Well, don’t.’ The girl snaps the words frostily, assuming he was addressing her.
Despite her bedraggled appearance and standoffish manner, in his old life he’d have been drawn to her, especially as he thrived on a challenge. But trying to chase the most beautifulwoman in the room has only led to tragedy and been part of his downfall, so he steps back. ‘Sorry.’
She nods, before scowling up into his face. ‘Do I know you?’
‘No.’ He gulps, worrying she’s recognised him despite the short beard cultivated to hide his chiselled jaw. Yanking the baseball cap further down over his navy-blue eyes, he’s glad his trademark sable waves are covered as he returns to his position against the wall.
As Albie takes his place at the front of the room, Harley’s attention drifts to the girl again. In the instant their gazes clashed, he’d known he was right about that familiarity. They’re kindred spirits because there’s something damaged about her. He’s learned to recognise the type; he sees it every time he looks in the mirror. Instinctively, he puts a hand to his chest, brooding over the little voice that keeps interrupting his thoughts. There is no escaping the consequences of what happened to him, it seems.
CHAPTER 4
Gilly
Bristling in the hallway of their old-world charm apartment, Gilly flicked another look at her watch. ‘Ariel, we’re running late. You nearly done?’
‘Bear with, darling. Just finishing up.’
Gilly rolled her eyes at the fancy plasterwork. Opposites might attract, but it didn’t mean they always got on. Ariel might think arriving late was fashionable, but swanning in ten minutes after things started was plain rude, as if other people had nothing better to do than wait around.
Argh. Would this personality trait ever stop grating?
‘Ta-da. How do I look?’ Finally appearing, Ariel propped herself against the lounge doorframe, curly brown hair streaming down her back and freed from its habitual headscarf. Wearing a favourite Popsy printed dress covered in birds, the material was cinched in at the waist, showing off her delightful hourglass figure. Gilly’s own flat chest, height, and sharp angles often made her feel boyish, so it was a good thing Ariel was woman enough for them both. There was something ethereal about her fiancée – perhaps due to her large green eyes – like she belonged in a forest glade in a faraway land rather than in a reality filled with work, bills and difficult decisions.Maybe that’s why Gilly often felt like the only adult in their relationship, rather than in an equal partnership with both people shouldering the weight.
Ariel pouted. ‘Aren’t you going to say something, Gee? Don’t I look good?’ She batted her eyelashes.
Gilly’s irritation softened, and she stepped closer to tuck a piece of Ariel’s hair behind her ear, revealing big dangly earrings. ‘You’re gorgeous, but it’s only a meeting with the other owners, so hardly worth dressing up for.’
‘Everything’s worth getting dressed up for. Just because you don’t want to…’ Her voice trailed off as she gestured at Gilly’s pressed black jeans and beige jumper.
‘This is what I’m comfortable in. We have different styles.’ Gilly sighed. ‘Can we go now?’
‘No,’ Ariel hooked her index finger into the neckline of Gilly’s top, pulling her close, ‘not yet.’
Their passionate kiss was almost enough for Gilly to suggest missing the meeting, but her need for order re-asserted itself. Easing away, she strode to the shoe-rack by the door, bending over to tug on her favourite suede ankle boots.
‘About our argument,’ Ariel murmured, ‘the things I said… I shouldn’t have. I’m sure I’ll get used to living somewhere so remote eventually. Guess there’s a teensy part of me still feeling pressured about the move.’
Gilly froze. Even when apologising, Ariel managed to evade responsibility for her own behaviour. Blaming others for her bouts of temper. Never actually saying,I’m sorry. But there was no point arguing now, it would only escalate, and they had somewhere to be. ‘It’s fine,’ she murmured, ‘moving is stressful.’ Straightening up, she added brightly, ‘Get your shoes on.’
‘I have a good feeling about this place.’ Ariel turned the conversation on its head, waving a hand behind her at the pastel-blue patterned wallpaper, which contrasted so well withthe polished oak floors and oriental rugs. ‘The light is amazing, so natural and inspiring, and the original features are so elegant.’ Her eyes widened as she came over and slid her feet into jewelled sandals. ‘Plus, one of the upsides of leaving the London art scene might be I’m healthier here. There’s no smog, and lots of fresh air so we can go for long walks. It should be good for my fertility when we do IVF again. Don’t you think?’
Gilly mentally winced. ‘I suppose so.’ The first two rounds had failed to produce even a single viable embryo, and an already temperamental Ariel had become even more extreme in her moods: hormonal, rage-filled, devastated. Sobbing one minute, staring into space the next, refusing to get out of bed some days, and yelling at the poor postman one memorable morning the previous autumn. That was the moment Gilly knew something had to change, and it hadn’t taken long to work out what. Vases were smashed and canvases slashed as Ariel resisted the selling of their narrow flat inside a Victorian townhouse, but this time Gilly had been resolute. They needed a new beginning.
Mourning their shattered dreams, she’d focused on the children she was responsible for at the inner-city comprehensive, even as she made guilt-fuelled plans to leave. Ariel had assumed Gilly’s quieter grieving process was because she hadn’t been the one to go through the gruelling jabs and their awful side effects, or the discomfort of egg retrieval. However, Gilly wasn’t a hundred per cent sure that was the case.
