Page 47 of Unapologetic Love Story

‘She hardly said a word to either of you,’ Tom pointed out.

‘Exactly, so snobby,’ Ottie replied. ‘Her little podcast might be getting a bit of attention, but we’ve been on television. There’s, like, an entertainment hierarchy, and she’s on the bottom. The only people who’re below her are, like, people who write books.’

‘You mean authors,’ Tom supplied.

‘Right! She can’t look down her nose at us.’

‘I don’t think she was,’ Tom said.

‘Oh, Tom, please. She wanted to be anywhere but with us.’

Tom looked back at the bright door leading into the tavern. He was still tingling with the strange feeling of finality. As if he was supposed to make some kind of choice. He felt torn between the two places. The table outside with the people he actually came to see, who were marginally interested in seeing him as well, and the woman inside the pub. The one who wanted nothing more to do with him.

He could see why. He was a slightly brash interloper who had unintentionally insulted her during their first meeting and done little to improve her regard for him since then.

He needed to cut this thread. Properly.

He’d just refused the offer of a cigarette from Ottie when he spotted Pepper leaving the pub. Alone. She looked calm and unruffled, checking her phone and walking at a leisurely pace. He looked behind her, waiting to catch a glimpse of Raina.

But she didn’t follow.

He dragged his eyes from the door and watched Pepper move from a casual walk to a slight jog, as she scampered to the edge of the pavement to hail a taxi that was passing by.

That really unsettled Tom. She was leaving Raina behind.

He got to his feet without thinking and began the arduous task of shouldering his way through the crowd to the inside of the pub. His eyes landed on their table, which was now occupied by new people.

Tom frowned, his eyes skimming over the bar to try to spot her.

Nowhere.

‘You looking for Rai?’

He turned to see the bartender with icy blonde hair and even colder eyes which assessed him with minor interest.

‘Yes,’ he answered bluntly.

‘She’s in the cellar.’

She led him behind the bar to a wooden door. She opened it for him, revealing a dimly lit second staircase that stank of beer.

‘She’s down there,’ she said, her expression disapproving. ‘Be nice.’

Tom didn’t linger. He stepped in. The deeper he went, the more intrigued he became. While he’d been to the pub many times, this was a secret hideaway he’d never been permitted to see. He’d stayed for a lock-in once, but even then, this was kept private.

He turned a corner and blinked at the fluorescent lights.

The wide room he now stood in had mountains of crates, as well as large cask ale barrels. Wine bottles, all organized by grape and colour, champagne by the case. Opened boxes of crisps and nuts.

Then, sitting on a pile of small boxes next to an enormous ice freezer, was Raina. Her heels were off and she was leaning over the huge dispenser, letting the cold brush up against her face and décolletage.

Tom was frozen once more, staring at this strange illusion of a person who’d turned him into a stranger to himself.

When she finally looked up and saw him, she didn’t seem surprised.

‘Come and feel the cold,’ she said softly.

He stepped closer, moving some beer crates for his own little pew. The ice hit him at once, and on a balmy summer evening in London, it felt like heaven.