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His brow creases. “Why would I blame you?”
“Because I wasn’t with you. We’d skied together all week, but that day I went back to the chalet with that boy.”
“Yeah. And?”
“I was your big sister. I should have been keeping an eye on you. If I’d stayed, maybe you wouldn’t have gone off-piste.”
“Briony, did you take a blow to the head too? That’s mental. I chose to go off-piste. Me. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, and I did it anyway.”
“I know, but—”
“Briony, you haven’t been blaming yourself for, like, the last four years, have you?”
I bite my lip. “Maybe a little.”
“Bloody hell.”
“I just wish I’d stayed with you.”
“And I wish I hadn’t gone off-piste. But what happened happened. Definitely wasn’t your fault, though.”
A tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it away with my sleeve. “Sorry. This is a ridiculous time to bring it up.”
“It is. I rang for exclusive access to the new world champion, and instead I’ve got you crying in a corridor.”
A laugh comes out of me, all wet and undignified. “You know I love you,” I say.
“I know. Love you too and all that.” He looks faintly embarrassed. “But tonight I’m celebrating Ryan’s win, and you should be too. Go back to your world champion. I’ll speak to you soon.”
We say goodnight, then he ends the call.
I stay on the bench for another minute, wiping my cheeks. Messages have come in, from Mum, from Dad, from Emmy. I respond to them while gathering myself, then I head back to Ryan’s changing room.
The party is still going, and Liam is recounting the knockout to the man who delivered it, almost as though he knows something about it that Ryan doesn’t.
The stitches are done, and the doctor is packing up his bag. He leaves after a final few instructions. The moment the door shuts behind him, Liam fills a glass with champagne and presses it into Ryan’s good hand.
“Doc’ll never know,” he says.
“But I will.” I snatch the glass off Ryan before it gets anywhere near his mouth. “You’re keeping Imran company on the Coke. Nothing stronger till tomorrow at the earliest.”
Niamh snorts. “Wouldnae argue wi’ her, mate.”
Liam laughs. “Aye. It took you five rounds to beat Vale. She had him doubled over wi’ one knee to the baws.”
Ryan grins then pats the table beside him. I climb up, and he puts his arm round me. I settle against his side.
“Tomorrow,” he says, “I’m taking you to the fanciest restaurant in Paris.”
“Deal.” I lean close to his ear. “But only if tonight, champ, you let me spoil you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
BRIONY
Ryan is still dead to the world.
I’ve showered, dressed, dried my hair, and fed Penny, and he hasn’t so much as twitched. He’s slept like this every night since Paris. Seventeen days on, his body is still taking back what the fight cost it.
