Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
I feel guilty, but not quite guilty enough to take that barrage from him, so I raise my chin myself.
“We weren’t sniping behind your back. That isn’t what happened.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. It was nothing like that, for either of us.”
“Excellent. In that case you’ll keep this whole fuck up out of the spotlight from here on in and both have a bit more awareness about what the hell you’re talking about, won’t you?”
I keep my eyes on his, still reading him.
“We can try.”
His eyes hold mine. Fierce.
“You’d better do more than fucking try. You’d better make sure you fucking succeed.”
I pause, weighing him up, because is there a chink in his armour? A hint of a tic in the corner of his mouth as he scowls?
It’s a stand-off.
I know what Ant wants, because I know him. He wants me to back down, apologise again and swear my allegiance to him above all else. He’ll want me to keep my conversations with Cass to bland chitchat but I don’t want that. I’d rather live on my own than live in a house where there’s a constant emotional divide hovering just out of sight. I lived like that for months with Jo when things were going wrong, tense and treading on eggshells every time we had a conversation. I’m not going to be walking on eggshells every time I take a step in this place.
“I’m sorry for what I’ve done, Ant, truly,” I say as I walk past him. “I’ll get my case and go, because it’s not worth risking it.”
“Hey, wait a second,” he says, but I keep on heading down the hallway.
It’s when I hear the slight tremor in his voice that I know there is a definite chink in his armour.
“Gerwyn, I said fucking wait, will you?” he says as he catches me up.
My hand is already on my suitcase when he grabs it from me and tosses it to the side. His eyes are still fierce, but his scowl is weak.
“Let’s not get too carried away, shall we? Why don’t we stick the coffee machine on and talk things through some more?”
I’ve never seen Anthony Bradstone back down like this, especially not so dramatically. I stand mute.
He slaps my arm. “Shit, Ger, don’t let’s run away with this. I took it hard and so did Cass. She was crying her eyes out, scared shitless when she confronted me about it, and that got to me. It hurt to see her like that.”
“Yes, I can imagine.”
“Exactly.” He slaps my arm again. “So maybe I overreacted a little. Let’s get the coffee machine on, hey? Let’s stop being so uptight.”
I’m not the one who’s uptight as he paces through to the kitchen. His shoulders are tense, even though his swagger is casual, and he shoots me glances over his shoulder to make sure I’m following, when he wouldn’t usually give me a second glance.
It’s him who flicks the coffee machine on, which is another break from the norm.
“Thanks for calming down,” I say. “But, still, you must agree it would be best if I moved out and left you and Cass to a space of your own. I could move down to Canary Wharf. I’m sure Richard Wells would be very happy to have me closer.”
“No,” Ant says, just like that.
I ignore his protest. “Living with you has been great, but situations change, so I’ll get looking for a place. We can still be friends, right? All three of us.”
I know there is something in me testing… testing him down deep… because if the twist of my instincts are correct on how I’m reading him, there’s no way he’d want me to move out of here… and I don’t quite know why.
Ant gets a mug down from the cupboard, ready for my coffee, but he’s silent, so I test him some more.
“I’ll tell Cass I’m very sorry for what I’ve done. I definitely don’t want her to think I’m an asshole who whispers behind your back.”
“She doesn’t think that,” Ant says as he puts the beans in to grind, even though he can’t usually stand the sight of liberica.
“She must do,” I counter. “If she thinks I’ve betrayed you, then she must think I’m a jackass with a motive.”
Ant’s losing his cool now. He scratches the back of his neck as the coffee machine churns, and I watch him like a hawk as I speak.
“I’ll give my apology to Cass and get straight on out of here. I can stay at Richard’s again tonight before the flight tomorrow.”
I grab my phone from my pocket to begin texting, feeling Ant’s glare from across the kitchen.
“No,” he says again.
“Don’t worry, it’s not a problem–” I begin, but he breaks at this point. His voice is a bark.
“I SAID, NO!”
He looks unnerved as soon as he’s said it, so I stop texting but stay quiet, wondering what the hell is really going on here.