One Night with Her Ex (12 page)

His heart sank further. ‘I can’t do that either.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because she’s very good at her job and it would be grossly unfair. If not downright illegal.’

‘I see,’ she said coolly, but he didn’t think she did. ‘So you really won’t fire them or get rid of her?’

‘I won’t.’

Lily pushed against his chest and took a step back. ‘Then I really don’t think there’s anything else to be said, do you?’

TWELVE

The following
morning Lily stumbled in to work, late for the first time since she and Zoe had begun working together, but that wasn’t hugely surprising since she’d only fallen asleep at dawn. She was feeling on edge and cranky and not just from lack of sleep.

‘Morning,’ said Zoe, looking up from her monitor and shooting her a smile. ‘At last. I was beginning to worry.’

‘Sorry.’ Lily dumped her bag on her desk with rather more force than was necessary and then stalked over to the coffee machine.

‘How are you feeling? Headache better?’

‘What?’ she muttered, stuffing an espresso capsule into the top and slamming the lid shut.

‘Your headache,’ said Zoe again, only a little slower. ‘Is it better?’

‘No.’ Her head hurt like hell, but then it would given the half a bottle of wine she’d polished off when she’d got home last night.

‘Are you sure you should be here, Lily?’ said Zoe, concern evident in her voice. ‘You look absolutely awful.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ said Lily, grabbing a cup, sticking it beneath the spout and pressing the button while thinking that however awful she looked it wasn’t a patch on how awful she felt.

Last night, that scene with Kit, had been horrible, she reflected with a shudder. So much for hoping that the unnecessary—she’d thought—jealousy would fade. And so much for being able to ignore the doubts she’d had in that garden square. All afternoon while she’d been sitting at home alone with her thoughts and practically climbing the walls, the jealousy and doubts had been growing, feeding rapaciously off her insecurities and her fears.

But she’d made herself calm down and by the time she’d joined Kit for dinner she’d thought she could contain the swell of emotion. Control it. Ignore it. Clearly she’d been mistaken because he’d pushed and prodded and poked until she hadn’t been able to take any more and she’d exploded.

Right up until the point where he’d confirmed what she’d suspected she’d been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She’d totally been prepared to accept that she’d indulged her penchant for melodrama and overreacted.

In her heart of hearts she hadn’t expected him to admit she was right. Deep down she’d hoped he’d deny it. Tell her she was being an idiot, that the coincidence was just that.

But when he’d confirmed it, well, that had been just awful. That had made a mockery of all the silken promises he’d given her on the island. The promises of the last two months. All that nonsense about honesty and openness and communication when he’d been lying to her from the very moment he’d barged his way back into her life. Or at the very least lying by omission and not telling her something he should have realised she’d want to know.

Once she’d got over the shock of it she’d been so,
so
angry. So deeply hurt and fiercely disappointed and so rocked by the realisation that despite what she’d told him, despite what she’d thought, she evidently hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d done, she’d lost control. And that was why she’d done what she’d done and said what she’d said.

Back at home and in bed, her head churning, she’d hardly slept a wink. With time and distance in which to think more objectively than she’d been able to at the time, and with the anger and hurt fading, she’d found herself hating the way she and Kit had argued, wishing she’d held back, wishing she’d been under better control, wishing she hadn’t let her emotions get the better of her. Above all she wished she hadn’t given into the need to test his commitment to them by issuing that awful, hugely unfair ultimatum.

‘No, seriously, Lily,’ said Zoe worriedly, ‘you don’t look well at all.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘No, you’re not. What’s happened?’

‘I’m hung-over, that’s all.’

‘Big night?’

‘You could say that.’

‘How was the restaurant?’

‘The restaurant was fine.’ The food had been divine. The atmosphere, however, had been positively frosty and things had gone downhill from there.

‘And how’s Kit?’ asked her sister, zeroing in on the trouble with a precision born from experience.

‘I haven’t a clue.’

‘What happened?’

‘The honeymoon’s over.’ She wasn’t sure the whole thing wasn’t over and her heart actually physically hurt at the thought.

There was a pause while Zoe absorbed this news. ‘Huh?’

‘We had a row.’

‘About what?’

The machine having done its job, Lily lifted the cup and took it back to her desk. ‘Remember the one-night stand he had?’ she said, sitting down and wrapping her hands round it as if the heat might give her the strength to relive the horrors of last night’s scene.

‘How could I forget?’

‘It turns out she works with him.’

Zoe’s jaw dropped and her eyebrows shot up. ‘No,’ she breathed.

‘Yes.’

Taking advantage of her sister’s astonishment and speechlessness Lily sipped her coffee and filled her in on the details of how she’d found out.

‘What did you do?’ said Zoe, once Lily had finished her rundown.

‘Lost it.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘I threw a wine glass at him.’

Zoe winced. ‘Full?’

‘Empty.’

‘Classy.’

‘I know,’ said Lily with a sigh. ‘Not exactly my finest moment.’

‘I’d say you had provocation, and look on the bright side—it could have been worse.’

‘How?’

‘You could have taken a key to his car, scissors to his suits and emailed his backers.’

‘There is that,’ said Lily with a grimace. ‘And at least I didn’t bottle it all up as usual.’

‘You certainly didn’t.’ Zoe shook her head. ‘But, Lil, that ultimatum... Really?’

‘I know,’ said Lily glumly. ‘It was wholly unreasonable. Grossly unfair. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m mortified that I did, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.’

‘So what happens now? Are the two of you over?’

She’d asked herself the same thing all through the night, but still didn’t have an answer. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, filling with a deep ache. ‘I hope not because I know I overreacted and that it was a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. Paula Burrows isn’t the problem. Kit and I are. Me in particular.’

‘Has he called?’

Lily shook her head a bit too vigorously, and despite the coffee her head started pounding again. ‘No. And I’m not sure he will.’

‘Why on earth not?’

‘I think I owe him an apology,’ she said, rubbing her temples and grimacing.

‘It sounds like he owes you one too.’

‘Possibly.’

‘So what’s stopping you from calling him?’

‘He’s in Rome.’

‘And?’

‘It’s not the sort of conversation I want to have over the phone. There may be grovelling. From me at least. And it’s not going to be pretty.’

Zoe shot her a smile. ‘In that case,’ she said, ‘don’t you think the phone sounds rather perfect?’

* * *

Zoe was right, thought Lily as she unlocked her front door after getting home from work and went inside. What was wrong with apologising and possibly grovelling over the phone? Nothing. Her blushes, and Kit’s, would be spared, and actually it was the only option she had because frankly she didn’t think her nerves could stand another night like last night.

She dumped her bag on the floor and hung her coat up and glanced at her watch. In fact she’d do it right now. Strike while the iron was hot and all that. It was seven o’clock, eight in Rome. Too late for a meeting or a site visit, surely. Kit would be having supper. A drink. Working in his hotel room, perhaps.

Maybe even waiting to hear from her.

Brightening a bit at that, she went into the kitchen and poured herself some wine—her hangover having been taken care of earlier by three more espressos and two bags of crisps—then picked up her phone.

Tapping it against her mouth, she wandered into the sitting room and settled herself on the sofa. Right. So. What was she going to say? And how was she going to say it?

Ten minutes later, Lily had a strategy of sorts and a few points jotted down so that she didn’t forget them, and she was more than ready to apologise, grovel and do whatever else Kit asked of her. She also had an empty glass of wine and cheeks red with embarrassment at the memory of how she’d behaved last night but that was fine because he wasn’t going to get to see either.

With her heart in her mouth she picked up the phone and dialled his mobile. Which went straight through to voicemail without ringing. She hung up. Tried again. But the same thing happened so she left a message asking him to call her when he had a chance. And then texted.

Trying to keep a lid on a simmering sense of frustration, next she tried the hotel he’d told her he was staying at. But there was no answer from his room there either, and the reception desk couldn’t help.

Out of ideas, Lily put the phone on the coffee table. Then sat back and frowned as she felt herself sort of deflate. She’d made notes, dammit. Thought about this at length and in detail. She’d also summoned up quite a lot of her courage to call, and after such a build-up the let-down was huge. She felt oddly cheated. And just the teensiest bit put out because after all the lengths—the emotional ones especially—she’d gone to to contact him, the least he could do was be there to listen to what she had to say.

So where was he? Who was he with? What was he doing? And should she be worried?

Of course she shouldn’t be worried, she told herself sternly. He was probably out. Or in the shower. The battery of his mobile might be flat. Or he might be somewhere where he didn’t get a signal.

On the other hand, their argument last night had been pretty hum-dinging, and she had been kind of unreasonable and irrational, so could she have driven him into the arms of another woman? Someone comforting and amenable, not argumentative and melodramatic.

Lily went cold and her heart slowed right down as her head swam at the thought of Kit with someone else. And then she blinked, gave herself a quick shake and pulled herself together. No. She was being ridiculous. That wasn’t at all likely.

Was it?

No. No. No.

They’d had one argument. Big deal. Millions of couples across the globe did. All the time. More often probably. It was normal. Nothing to worry about. She just needed to relax, that was all. Get a sense of perspective. Not leap to wholly unlikely conclusions based on her massive insecurities.

There was bound to be a perfectly rational explanation for why Kit wasn’t answering his phone. Absolutely bound to be.

* * *

Stifling a yawn because now that he was done for the day the exhaustion he’d been holding at bay since he’d got up this morning was pouring through him like a tidal wave, Kit climbed the steps from the basement restaurant where he’d had dinner and then left his colleagues ordering more drinks, and checked his phone.

Two missed calls. One message. One text. All from Lily.

The desire to call her had been needling him all day. He’d felt the urge to talk to her hammering away in the back of his mind throughout the site visit and the meetings that had taken up the rest of the day. But he’d been unable to do either because he’d barely had a moment to himself to think, let alone work out what he wanted to say to her and how to say it.

Now he did, but it was late. Nearly midnight here and therefore eleven in London. He ought not to disturb her. He ought to wait until morning. On the other hand he didn’t think he could stand another night like last night during which his conscience had niggled at him so relentlessly that he’d hardly slept.

What the hell? he thought, tapping the reply button to her text message and typing
Too late to call?
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Then he hailed a passing taxi, and, after it pulled to a screeching halt beside him, climbed in and gave the driver the address of his hotel in his very dodgy Italian. As he sat back and rubbed a hand over his eyes, his phone beeped and he sat up, more alert than he’d felt at any other moment today.

Never
was Lily’s reply, and within a second he was dialling her number, his heart lurching in a way that had nothing to do with the driver, who clearly thought he was at Monza.

The phone had barely rung before she picked up. ‘Hi,’ she said, sounding breathy, as if she’d had to run for the phone, which she couldn’t have if she’d only texted seconds ago.

‘Hi,’ said Kit. ‘Sorry it’s so late. I’ve only just picked up your messages. I was out for dinner with a couple of people from work. A basement place. No signal.’

He heard her let out a breath and when she spoke again she sounded strangely relieved. ‘That’s OK. How’s it been going?’

‘Fine. Good.’

‘Good.’ There was a moment’s silence and Kit was just about to fill it when Lily got there first. ‘Look, Kit,’ she said, her voice soft and husky and sending a stab of desire shooting through him. ‘I’m so sorry about last night.’

Kit nearly dropped the phone.
She
was sorry? ‘If anyone should be apologising, Lily, it’s me.’

‘Whatever for? I was the one who called you a jerk and threw a glass at you. I’m the one who hurled that ultimatum at you, which was utterly unforgivable. Of course I don’t expect you to fire your PR agency. I’m sorry I suggested it, and if it’s any consolation I’m mortified.’

‘You had justification to be angry,’ he muttered, not entirely happy about the fact that she thought she was in the wrong. ‘I should have told you about Paula. And if it had ever crossed my mind I would have. I never think of her outside the context of her working for me. She genuinely means nothing to me. Please believe me on this.’

Lily sighed. ‘I do. I think. And with hindsight I’m not sure that last night was really about her.’

He frowned in the darkness. ‘It wasn’t?’

‘No. Because I’ve thought about it, and, you know, I
do
forgive you.’

‘Then what was it about?’

‘I had a little wobble, that’s all. Freaked out for a moment.’

‘Over us?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Why?’

There was a brief moment of silence and Kit could imagine her frowning, biting her lip as she worked it out. ‘I think I’m a bit scared, Kit. This has all been so fast. It’s kind of overwhelming.’