Liam messaged twice to ask where I am, and I’ve told him I’m at the park with Ellie and I’ll be back soon, ignoring the message asking which park.
Am I looking for breathing space or for him to break me in two for slipping his watch? Who knows….
I know. And it’s definitely the latter.
We stop at the coffee shop, sittingat one of the wonky little tables while blowing steam off our hot chocolates. Extra cream and marshmallows, of course.
‘It feels like forever since we were last here,’ I say, watching an elderly set of women sitting on a bench nearby. ‘Do you think we’ll be like them one day? Shooting the shit at eighty, moaning about our husbands and the fact our grandkids never call?’
‘You bet. But maybe on a beach rather than in a cold park. The arthritis I’m bound to end up with will require sun.’
‘And cocktails too, I hope. At eighty, we may as well be half-cut all day.’ I laugh, but a twinge of actual worry is behind my question. ‘But seriously, will we still see each other after university?’
‘Of course we will. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’ Ellie rolls her eyes at me. ‘Don’t go getting all soppy, I don’t want to cry in the park.’
A movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. There, among the trees, is a black figure with pink heart eyes. My pulse thumps as I stare. Taking out his phone, he types.
You ignored me.
How did you know where we went?
I followed you.
Bullshit. We took two buses and went through a busy station, there’s no way.
The trees are nothing but green when I look back.
‘All okay?’ Ellie asks, tipping her head at my phone.
‘Just my mum, you know what she’s like. Can you watch my drink? I’m going to pop to the toilet.’
I pass the toilet and head for the trees where I saw him lingering.
‘Liam,’ I say through my teeth. ‘Where are you?’
He steps out from behind a cluster of trees, and I set him with a look that I hope feels like daggers.
‘Hello, darling.’
‘Don’t youdarlingme. How did you follow me here?’
He shifts before his shoulders drop a touch. ‘Your necklace.’
I touch the stone around my throat.
‘What?’
‘I put a tracker in it.’
My hair stands on end as I try to look down at it. It hasn’t felt any different. ‘How long?’
He’s silent.
‘How fucking long, Liam?’
‘A few weeks.’
I glare at him. He doesn’t flinch, steady through those paintedhearts.
