“To say?”
“Dunno. But if he wants a cosy chat, he’s too late. I got nothing to say to him, and I’m not interested in listening to any more of his bullshit.”
Harry hums again. “You’re still feeling a lot, aren’t you?”
I huff, saying nothing.
Harry makes a quiet suggestion. “Use my pen.”
“To do what? Stab him?”
Harry snorts. “You couldn’t. You’re a lover, not a fighter.”
“I dunno about that.” I’ve scuffed my knuckles for less. “I could take him in a fight.”
“And yet it’s you who puts broken things back together.”
That description could fit my aunt. Nothing made her happier than finding matching china fragments in riverbank grit and gravel.
Harry fills my silence. “Fighting Flynn wouldn’t make you feel any better. Using my pen might, so write yourself a list of all those feelings. Good, bad, or ugly, write them out, let yourself feel them one last time, then leave them behind.”
My throat is stupidly tight. “Wouldn’t waste the ink.” Harry must be at a boat-show party. Glasses clink and people chatter. Like Flynn, he’s moving in high-powered circles, so I tell him, “Get back to chatting up your clients.” I turn onto my own street to find someone waiting on my doorstep. This time, it isn’t a Scottish redhead.
An ex-Horse Guard stands sentry.
“I gotta to go. Blake’s waiting.” He hasn’t spotted me yet, and for the first time, I see him the same way Dair described. He’s intimidating. Grim. Unapproachable—until his sights lock on me. Then Blake looks relieved in a perfectly timed example of what Harry mentions before our call ends.
“Good. He’s got to be lonely after being in charge of new recruits for years. Not being needed must be one hell of an adjustment, especially if him and Adey still aren’t talking. You found out what happened between them?”
“Nope. Not yet.”
“But you will.” I can almost see smile lines deepen around sea-green eyes. “Because I left my pen with the right person.”
I slow my steps. “I don’t know about that either.”
Harry’s pause draws out, and this is quieter. “Listen, I’m not expecting a miracle. Not expecting anything at all, to be honest. Just couldn’t help thinking that it takes a deeply practical person to do what you did for Flynn. You’re a workhorse.” Again, he could be describing my fam. “That kind of steady hand on the plough matters. You don’t have to keep my pen,” he promises. “You can give it to any of the other Exes if you want. But I am glad you took it.”
I’m glad too when I reach my doorstep to let Blake in. The role Harry gave me means I get to hear him laugh the minute I make him tea in my not-so-empty kitchen. He chuckles over my new possessions. “Gold rims? Very la-di-da. Thought I’d left teacups like these behind at the Palace.”
It’s true that the cups Dair wrapped so carefully are quite fancy looking, even if they cost his old client pennies at boot sales.
Blake lifts up his cup to read the maker’s name on its base. He doesn’t find one, but he does find a mark on the base of the saucer. “Does this mean they’re worth something?”
I don’t even look at that print. “No clue. Ceramics aren’t my thing.”
Blake isn’t done taking the piss. “Well, these are a step up from IKEA. You must be going up in the world.” He takes a sip of Twining’s finest, eyes meeting mine over the gold rim of his cup, and Dair was right—usually that stare could pierce armour plating. Tonight, Blake’s eyes twinkle, which I take as a good sign.
“You made up with Adey.”
That twinkle winks out. “How, when I never see him?” The bright lights of this kitchen show a sudden bleakness. “Since retiring, I always start my weekends with a run through Hyde Park. Time it so I can check in on the newest troopers. See howthose donkey wallopers are getting on. Adey used to come with. Now he says he can’t. That he’ll be too busy working.”
“He teaches at the weekend?”
“No. He stopped teaching a while back. Called it a sabbatical. I dunno why he’s working at a bougie coffee shop serving fucking cappuccinos to tourists in Covent Garden.”
It’s telling that he can pull out his phone and show me where his not-boyfriend will be so quickly, like he’s checked this coffee shop’s opening times often. Not gonna lie, I googled care-work shift patterns while I was away, wondering when Dair might be home, so I get it.
Blake stares down at his phone. “Think he’s taken on more shifts there to avoid me.”
