Page 94 of In Love and Revenge

‘I don’t know if I can. It’s been a long time, Rory. Years. It’s all in the past. Maybe it should stay there.’

‘Aren’t you curious about what he has to say? The way things were left. You said it was all so abrupt?’

She sighs, her shoulders sagging. ‘It was. One day he was there, and we were making these amazing plans together. And the next he was gone. No explanation. No apology. Nothing.’

She looks out of the window and frowns, faint lines creasing the middle of her brow. I hate the way her voice loses its fight when she talks about him. And the way she still looks so hurt.

‘We weren’t even together, not really.’ She huffs out a strained laugh. ‘It’s ridiculous that I let myself be so affected by him.’

‘Stop. It’s not ridiculous. You had a connection.’

‘I thought we did. But I didn’t know him, not really. Not the big stuff. Not what his relationship with his family was like. Or whether he wanted kids.’

‘You knew his dreams. You knew what he was passionate about. What you had was real, even if it ended suddenly.’

‘Thanks, Rory.’ She gives me a soft smile, then sips her coffee again. ‘Mm, I think this place gets better all the time. This is delicious.’

That’s Dove-speak for ‘this conversation is too raw, and I can’t talk about it any more’.

‘So, a cat tree?’ I ask, changing the subject.

‘The thing’s bloody massive.’ Dove laughs. ‘Rafe went nuts when he saw it.’

My throat thickens at the mention of him.

‘I warned Gabe he wouldn’t want it in there, but I didn’t expect him to be quite that pissed off. He’s been a moody bastard all week.’

‘Really?’ I squeak, my cheeks heating.

‘Yeah, I’m wondering if it’s got anything to do with Seraphina.’

My stomach sinks at her name. I never considered they could still be together when I spent the night with Rafael. I just assumed they weren’t. What if he cheated on her with me? What if I’m party to his deceit?

I take a sip of my coffee to do something with my hands, but all I can taste is sourness as I swallow it.

‘You know he took her to the Beaufort wedding in Cape Town,’ Dove continues. ‘Well, get this, I just found out she flew home alone after he called her by another woman’s name.’

‘Whose?’ I blurt.

‘I don’t know.’ Dove frowns. ‘My source wasn’t close enough to hear. But she saw Seraphina throw a drink in Rafe’s face after shouting something about videos of this other woman being all over his phone.’

I stare at her. ‘Videos?’

‘Yeah.’ She laughs. ‘I don’t want to know. But I don’t feel sorry for him. He’s my brother and I love him, but he’s a total arseholewhen it comes to women. He dates them, fucks them, then moves on to the next.’

I push my coffee cup away, unable to stomach another drop.

What Dove’s saying isn’t news. I’ve always known what Rafael is like. So I have no idea why there’s this niggly little voice in my head stamping its foot that I didn’t even get the date first. I just got the fuck, then the ghosting. Even if it was really great sex, something about the whole situation makes me feel dirty and used. I’m just one in a long line of Rafael Fairfax’s bedpost notches. And he’s my best friend’s brother. How stupid can I be? Catastrophically, tragically stupid, it seems. Because as much as I’ve tried not to, a tiny part of me wonders what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. To be held in his arms every night. Like you’re something precious to him that he’d lay down his life to protect. And what it would be like to talk to him all the time, like I did when we were dancing, and for him to gaze down at you and just ...listen. Like he was hanging off your every word, and wanted to commit them all to memory, learning everything about you that he could.

And of course, to be kissed like you’re his reason for everything.

Because that man can kiss.

He holds your eyes like he’s trying to see your soul when he fucks you.

But he kisses you like he’s sharing his right back.

My mind must be playing tricks on me and remembering that night with rose-tinted glasses. Because this is Rafael Fairfax we’re talking about. A man who doesn’t even try to hide his disgust of my father. One who I never have to speak to again. Just like he said.