‘You sound different,’ I say hoarsely.
‘I’m still the same person.’
I shake my head. ‘No, you’re not.’
Heat hits the backs of my eyes.
‘Ellie,’ he murmurs, reaching out to me as my vision goes blurry.
‘No,’ I say quickly, backing up. ‘Was thatBeca?’
I’m almost too scared to ask.
He halts where he’s standing. He looks the same, a bit broader, perhaps, but his eyes are still peach-iced-tea brown, clear, flawless, and gleaming with what now looks like regret as he nods.
‘Is she your girlfriend now? Was shealwaysyour girlfriend?’ My heart jolts at the thought.
‘No!’ he exclaims.
‘She’snotyour girlfriend?’ Which question is he saying no to?
‘No, she is, but—’
‘Or is she your fiancée?’
He seems to shrink a little, wilting. ‘Not yet.’ He sounds strained. He starts towards me and stops. ‘Iamthe same person, I swear.’
I shake my head. ‘Your voice. Your accent.’ I can’t get over it.
He hesitates. And then he says, in the exact same Welsh lilt I remember from my dreams, ‘Would it help if I spoke like this?’
I’m so taken aback at hearing him switch seamlessly from one persona to another that I reel backwards, staggering into a rose bush. And it hits me like a slap in the face thatthisis the reason why he didn’t turn up in Madrid, why he left me heartsick and broken. Because everything about him was alie. We’re from two completely different worlds, and he knew it, even if I didn’t.
He lurches forward, trying to help me, but I’m so freaked out that I don’t want him anywhere near me. His strong hands circle my forearms and he pulls me out of the thorns.
‘Get off me!’ I shriek, but it’s too late, because he’s already setting me back on my feet. And now he’sright there.
I shove his chest to create more distance between us and he stumbles, his expression crestfallen.
‘ASH!’
We both look over to see Beca – Rebecca? Bex? – standing twenty metres or so away. Her expression is a picture of apprehension.
‘What’s going on?’ she demands to know.
Ash holds his palm up to her, a silent request for patience, but it’s all too much for me. I hurry away through the formal garden.
‘Ellie, wait!’
And now I’m running, instinct screaming at me to get away.
‘Ash!’ Beca calls, sounding hurt and incredulous.
‘I’ll be right back!’ I hear him shout at her.
He catches up with me on the dirt track leading to the walled garden. I left my shoes where they lay and I can’t run now on these stones.
‘Ellie, wait!’ he gasps as I gingerly but determinedly try to make my way home. ‘I can’t let you leave, not again.’
