Simon raises his eyebrows.
‘I bumped into Erin when she came downstairs to get a glass of water.’
Si gives a sheepish chuckle and looks away.
‘I thought you weren’t interested.’ There’s an edge to his voice now, but Simon doesn’t seem to notice.
‘I wasn’t. At least, I wasn’t until last night.’ Simon closes the fridge and turns to lean against the kitchen counter. ‘But I didn’t want to dump her in a public place over dinner, so we started talking and I remembered what a great girl she is. I have no idea why I let myself forget that!’
As he laughs at himself, Gil frowns.
‘And she isreallyinto me. Like, completely besotted. It’s hard for a guy not to get swept up by that, if you know what I mean?’
Gil nods tersely. He knows exactly how easy it is to get swept up in Erin Ross. ‘So what happens next?’ He holds his breath. As much as he hates himself for it, he hopes Simon is going to say this is a one-night stand, that now he’s satisfied his curiosity he’ll move on to pastures new when Erin goes back to her superyacht.
Simon shrugs. ‘Maybe it’s time I got serious with someone, and if I’m going to get serious, it might as well be with someone like Erin.’
It feels as if all the blood rushes from Gil’s body in a downward motion, leaving him chilled to the bone.
Simon walks over and gives him a one-armed hug. ‘And it seems I might have you to thank for this chance. Erin was talking about messages …’
Oh, God.
‘And I know you said you answered her a couple of times when I first gave you my phone. I don’t know what you said, mate, but it has earned me serious brownie points!’
Gil thinks he might be about to vomit as Simon claps him on the back.
‘Thanks for keeping her warm for me. You’re the best friend a guy could have.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
Present Day
By the time I pack all my belongings, it’s past four. I don’t sleep. Instead I check the time of the first train out of Totnes back to Paddington. I’m going home. To Simon – where I should have been all along.
It wasn’t safe to send me here with my brain in the state it is. I’ve allowed it to blur the lines between dream and reality, and all that ever brings is pain. I knew better than to count on Gil. And I’m disappointed in Simon, too. The only person I can really trust at the moment is myself, which is why I am going to put myself on a train, even if the thought of all those crowds on the Underground when I get off at the other end terrify me, and I’m going to get myself back home to south-east London.
I contact three cab firms in the South Hams area. One is a one-man band who is already on his way to Exeter with another fare, and the other two firms, both about twenty miles away, can only get here at six and 6.30, respectively. I book the earlier one.
When it gets to 5.45, I slowly and quietly turn the key in my bedroom door. Gil didn’t pound on it or shout through it after I locked myself inside.He made a couple of polite, contained requests for me to open it and talk to him, but when I refused to answer, it went quiet. I presume he walked away.
Once the door is unlocked, I turn the handle slowly. When it opens, I’m surprised to see Gil, long legs folded up underneath him on the cold tiled floor, back against the wall. His head is lolling on his chest, but it snaps up when he hears the bottom of the door dragging over the thick carpet. In an instant, he’s on his feet, towering over me.
My heart begins to pound. But not because I’m scared. Because some small, pathetic part of me is thrilled to see him there, wants to put my palms on his chest and feel if his heart is beating this fast too. How messed up is that?
He takes in the suitcase sitting just inside the door. ‘You’re really leaving?’
‘Of course I’m leaving! I told you I was.’
I’ve never seen Gil at a complete loss for words, but he seems to be now. ‘But …’
I take advantage of his bewilderment to grab my suitcases and my handbag and roll them past him into the hallway and up to the front door.
‘E …’
‘Don’t call me that!’
He flinches as if I’ve slapped him. I don’t care if I sound shrill and angry. I am angry. Absolutely furious. With him and with myself.
