“I’m not feeling well,” I say quickly, pulling up the taxi app on my phone. “I shouldn’t have come out yet, it’s too soon. I-I have a headache.”
“Mia.” Dom tries reaching for me, but I move further away, still staring at my phone.
“I’ll just go tell Char, and then I’ll go meet my cab.” I spin on my heel, half looking at the app on my phone and half scanning the crowd for Char’s face.
I finally find her, taking ridiculous selfies with a now loosened-up Jordan, and she waves when she spots me. But her face instantly freezes into a look of concern, as she no doubt sees something is not quite right. Her eyes flash over my shoulder for a second, and I don’t doubt that Dom is right behind me.
“I have to go,” I say, clearing my throat and putting a hand to my chest. “I think I overdid it a bit.”
“I’ll come with you,” she says, and I quickly shake my head.
“No, no, you stay, you’re having fun.” I force a smile, and now Jordan’s eyes wander behind me, wondering why his boss is pursuing me through the room. “I just want to go home and sleep.”
“Oh. Not a worry.” She takes a hold of my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Are you sure?”
“Of course.” I give them both a quick peck on the cheek and turn tail, stalking straight past Dominic. I ask for my coat at the cloakroom, where he manages to catch up with me.
“Mia, please talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say,” I murmur, giving him a side glance. “I’m being stupid. I’m tired, and I was ill. It’s all just too much.”
“Mia.” He reaches out to take my hand that’s tapping on the counter, but I slide it away quickly.
“Stop it.” I smile at the attendant and take my coat, ignoring Dom’s attempts to help me into it. I hurry out through the hotel doors, and of course there’s fucking press waiting for me. The flashes start going off, and hotel security try to hold them at a reasonable distance.
I check my phone for the cab, and see it’s only a minute away.
“Mia! Mia!” The calls come, and I shrug my coat up around my face to try and block them all out.
“Mia, you must be devastated at the loss of your father!”
I recognise the voice. I know it’s Paulie Hardcastle. But the words. The words he said….
I turn slowly towards him, just as Dom emerges from the hotel. He stops short, following my gaze, then looks back at me.
“What did you say?” I’m suddenly not at all cold, but numb all the same. “What did you say?” I ask again, louder this time, taking a few shaky steps towards the throng of photographers. They quiet down, unsure of what to do.
Paulie’s silvered head pops up, his camera at the ready.
“Your father, Mia! You dumped him in a care home four years ago, and haven’t seen him since!” He snaps his camera, the flash burning my eyes, but I can barely blink. “Do you regret not seeing him one last time before he died?”
The press all look at Paulie, then turn back to me, unleashing a tsunami of shouted questions on me. I’m going to faint. Black spots dance in my vision and sound drowns out, my legs numb and weak and threatening to collapse all at the same time.
“Dom,” I gasp, and before my hand’s even reached out, he’s there.
“I’m here, love,” he says in a low voice, shielding me from the photographers and guiding me to the black cab that’s just pulled up. “I’ve got you. Let’s go.”
I clasp onto his arm, still not believing it. I climb into the back of the cab, and with shaky fingers try to find the number for my father’s care home as Dom gives my address to the driver.
“I don’t understand,” I stammer, dialling the number and putting the phone to my ear. “I don’t…Oh my god.”
The phone rings five times, and then a matronly voice answers.
“Barnabus Home, this is Helen speaking.”
She sounds so cheerful. How can she sound so fucking cheerful when someone just died?
“H-hello, my name is Mia Graves. Uh, Mia Brookes. I mean…” I snap for air, and Dom curls his hand around mine. “I-I was just told that my father… My father…”
