The First Mistake(54)

‘Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,’ I said, my voice rising. ‘I don’t care that you’re going away. You can do whatever you want, go wherever you want, with whoever you want to go with, but don’t tell me I already knew something when I didn’t.’

‘Jeez, why are you getting so stressed out about it? Is it because you haven’t been to my place yet?’

‘It’s got nothing to do with that,’ I said, though I had to admit, it didn’t help. He’d come to my flat over a dozen times, we’d been to London probably the same again, yet his place, which was allegedly just west of town, had somehow managed to elude us.

‘Listen, when I get back from Spain, I’ll do dinner at mine,’ he said, sounding conciliatory. ‘Would that make you happy?’

‘Don’t you dare patronize me,’ I screeched, incensed. ‘Making out as if you’re doing me a favour.’

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ he said, pulling up outside my flat and turning the engine off.

‘Don’t bother getting out,’ I yelled as I retrieved Tyson from the boot. ‘You’d better get off home for your beauty sleep.’

‘Are you being serious?’ he asked incredulously, through the open window. ‘You’re honestly going to leave it like this?’

‘Have a nice trip,’ I said, without looking back.





24


When ‘Hot Guy’ flashed up continually throughout my lunch hour the next day, I had to turn my phone over.

‘Problem?’ asked Maria through a mouthful of ham sandwich.

‘Not really,’ I said tartly, unable to keep the vitriol I felt from spilling out.

‘I can’t believe you’ve still got him stored as “Hot Guy” on your phone,’ she laughed, in an attempt to defuse the atmosphere. ‘Does he know?’

I shrugged and felt tension creeping up from the base of my neck. ‘I’m seriously thinking of renaming him Dickhead.’

‘Uh-oh,’ she sang. ‘Trouble in paradise. Is this your first lovers’ tiff? What did he do?’

‘We rowed about going to his place,’ I said. ‘He made something so simple so complicated.’

‘About going to his place, or not going?’ she asked.

‘I wanted to go, but he said it wasn’t convenient.’ Even as I was saying it, it sounded immature. ‘So when we got back to mine, I forbade him to come in.’

Maria choked on her sandwich. ‘That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’

‘He was an extreme arsehole, so the punishment befitted the crime.’

‘So, this is him, trying to crawl back into your good books,’ said Maria, giving a nod to my phone, still vibrating its way along the staff room coffee table.

‘He flew to Spain this morning, so I’m assuming he’s ringing me to say that he got there safely. But he can call all he likes, because I really don’t care.’

Maria rolled her eyes and picked up my phone, which was in danger of buzzing itself off the table.

‘Jesus, he’s called twenty-three times,’ she said. ‘I think he’s done his penance, don’t you?’ It started ringing again, and she accepted the call before throwing the phone at me.

‘Yep,’ I barked down the phone, with all the sassiness I could muster.

‘It’s me,’ he said.

‘No shit, Sherlock. What do you want?’

‘I’ve had an accident,’ he said. ‘I’m in hospital.’

My blood ran cold and I momentarily lost the ability to focus. ‘What? Where?’ was all I could manage.

Maria instinctively came towards me, her presence a welcome anchor in the stormy sea I’d suddenly been immersed in.

‘I’m in Spain,’ he said, his voice slow. ‘I’ve been hit by a car.’

‘Oh my God,’ I said, bringing my hand up to my mouth. ‘Are you going to be okay? Where are you? I’ll come over.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ he said. ‘I’m fine, just bruised and sore. They’re going to take an X-ray. They suspect I’ve got a broken arm and they’re keeping me in overnight, just as a precaution.’

‘What about the car?’ I asked, though I don’t know why.

‘Well, that’s got a me-shaped dent in it,’ he said, attempting to laugh before saying, ‘Ouch, that hurts.’ I wondered how people in pain actually had the wherewithal to say ‘Ouch’.

‘I can come out there,’ I said, as Maria nodded in agreement, intimating that she’d cover for me. ‘I can be there later tonight, if I can get a flight. Honestly, I—’

‘No,’ he said with surprising force, though it was probably the best course of action as I was beginning to babble and struggling not to cry.

‘Will you be okay? Have they said when you might be able to fly home?’

‘Not yet, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be out of here any time soon. I’m just worried that I’ll not be able to get back to see you before you go off on your trip.’

I fell back onto the staff room sofa. ‘Listen, about last night—’ I started.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, cutting across me. ‘It was a silly argument and I’m sorry that it got out of hand.’