Page 93

Cole tapped the back of his phone. ‘We need to call Arlo again. And meet.’

‘Is he travelling?’ Frankie asked.

‘No, just lying low in London.’

‘Antisocial bugger,’ Si said.

‘Come on,’ Cole said firmly, ‘we need to book flights to London. And pack. I brought the van. I had one beer at eight and it was,’ he checked the beer label, ‘five per cent, which is about two units which means…’

‘You’re fine to drive us home.’ Simon gave Cole a playful light kick to his bum to get him moving toward the door. ‘You and I can wait outside and give these two a minute.’ Si gave a little farewell salute to Frankie.

‘I don’t want to go,’ Jay said to Frankie as soon as the door closed. ‘I want to stay and talk and well, do more than talk.’

Frankie’s core ached for Jay and she wanted that too… but she had to rein in her emotions as well as her libido.

‘You need to find out what’s happening with your band.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘But what if you have to keep touring?’

‘I don’t want that.’

‘You may not have a choice.’

Jay took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. They reluctantly broke apart and Jay rested his forehead against hers.

‘We’re going to fight this.’

‘Don’t worry about Toffee, I’ll keep her here until you get back.’

‘Thank you.’

He went to kiss her again but Cole honked the van’s horn impatiently outside.

‘Ugh, bad timing,’ Jay said huskily, brushing his thumb over Frankie’s lower lip.

It always seemed to be bad timing with them, Frankie thought sadly as she watched him turn and leave.

CHAPTER 41

ROCCO

‘I get you wanted to leave the party, I just don’t understand why you had to dress as a massive Christmas tree to do it,’ Rocco said before pressing down the lid of the Nutribullet and watching it whizz into life.

Valentina glumly stabbed her bran flakes with her spoon. ‘I wanted to leave without talking to anyone.’

Rocco poured the unappetisingly greenish concoction of spinach, kale, apple and kiwi into a couple of glasses and slid one to Valentina, who took a sip then pulled a face.

On trying his, Rocco decided fresh orange juice was a better bet and set the carton on the table along with two clean glasses. He sat opposite his sister. Something was bothering Valentina. Something other than fatigue, an almost full-term baby pummelling her insides and the worry of the impending birth.

‘Did you have a fun night?’ Valentina asked him, with an overly bright smile, clearly keen to change the subject.

‘It was all right.’

‘So, why the miserable face?’ Valentina probed. ‘Has it anything to do with the Christmas present you took with you and brought all the way back again? The one for Alison.’ Valentina clarified, as if he often carried random Christmas presents around with him.

‘How did you know it was for her?’