Page 51

‘Oh, I am treated equally; well, I was.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I just focus more on the house and cooking, and he deals with finances.’

‘And that’s still a thing?’ he eventually managed.

‘Yeah, it’s big business, and I’m very much a pioneer of it online,’ I said proudly. Then my smile dampened. ‘Well, I was. But just before I came here, I shot a live video, popped off camera for about ten seconds, and then my husband walked in with my PA – declaring his love for her on a fucking live stream. Didn’t even clock the camera was still rolling.’

Jamie stared at me. It seemed like he had to force himself to shut his mouth. ‘You’re joking?’

I felt my mouth twist, cringing at myself for having to admit this out loud. ‘I wish I was.’

He looked lost in thought. ‘And that’s when you jumped on a train and . . .’

‘And met you mid-meltdown, yes.’ I held out my hands as if to say exactly, hoping he’d realise my erratic behaviour had been warranted. ‘So, since I offloaded my phone, I’ve basically gone missing, and almost everyone in the UK is searching for me. Except my husband, it seems.’ I shrugged.

‘Except your husband,’ Jamie repeated.

‘Aye. He’s probably relieved. Wee break for him and his side piece.’ I swallowed.

Jamie’s jaw tightened slightly. Not a lot. But enough for me to notice.

‘That’s . . .’ he exhaled. ‘That’s properly fucked up, Harri.’

‘Well,’ I shrugged, ‘I’ve also been lying to the entire internet about who I am, so, you know. Balanced.’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

I hesitated, suddenly aware of how close he still was. ‘I’ve never said I’m Scottish online,’ I admitted. ‘I do a different voice. It’s like a completely different version of me.’

His brows shot up. ‘You’re fucking joking.’

‘Nope. And this is the worst bit – I go by the name Harriette.’ I shrugged again. I was letting it all out, and I didn’t seem to care.

He blinked. ‘But that’s—’

‘Not my name. Aye. But I hate my real name,’ I admitted. ‘Truthfully, when I went to uni, I didn’t want any association with my father, so I changed it.’

He seemed completely baffled. ‘But your husband—’

‘Not even Rupert knows I’m actually called Harri,’ I said.

‘Haud on, haud on.’ Jamie closed his eyes briefly and held up his hands. I wondered if he was about to whip out his phone and call to have me sectioned. ‘Your husband is called Rupert?’

Silence.

‘Like . . . the wee bear?’ he said.

I burst out laughing. ‘I know it’s awful!’

He huffed out a laugh, leaning back slightly again – but his leg still hadn’t moved from mine. ‘Rupert!’ he repeated. ‘That’s child abuse.’

I covered my face, slightly mortified on Rupert’s behalf. ‘Agreed.’

We laughed hard together until our amusement finally faded. But the closeness didn’t. If anything, it felt more obvious now.

‘Let me see your Instagram?’ Jamie said playfully.

I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. There was no way he’d get it.

‘Go on.’ He nudged me. ‘I’ll google you from my phone then,’ he said as he whipped out his iPhone and began typing. I lunged for it, but he held it out, tutting. Then I heard my voice, that fake voice. ‘Hello, my gorgeous friends . . .’ My heart sank, and I immediately covered my face. ‘Today we are going to make a warm, tender stew, perfect for the winter nights approaching.’