Anyone But You: A BRAND NEW feel-good celebrity, second chance romance (Love is in the Air Book 2)

Chapter Eighteen

By the time Scarlett stirred, she was alone, but the distant sound of footsteps padding around upstairs gave her a vague idea of Dylan’s whereabouts. As the memory of last night hit her instantly, she burrowed into the duvet, content to do no more than think about Dylan. She stretched languidly. Being loved again was good for the soul, that was for sure.

The smell of coffee and warm bread finally roused her from his bed, and she made her way into the kitchen, where Dylan was already eating toast and reading at the table.

‘Good morning.’ He bestowed a smile upon her and indicated the coffee machine. ‘Help yourself. There’s fresh bread by the toaster.’

‘Hi.’ She was a bit put out that he didn’t jump up to kiss her or offer to make her breakfast, but she swallowed the feeling down and headed for the coffee machine. ‘What on earth is on that toast? It smells gross.’

‘Peanut butter and banana. Good for energy.’ His gaze didn’t leave the newspaper.

Scarlett frowned at his preoccupation as he read the newspaper. ‘Dylan, please don’t read that article again.’

‘Oh, I wasn’t. I was reading the sports page, when something caught my eye a few pages in.’ He folded up the newspaper in a way that made one article stand out. ‘Look. He called me a few minutes ago, wants me to appear on a national television show that’s well loved by housewives of a certain age. Not exactly the audience I had in mind when I started this thing, but anyway.’ He stabbed at the newspaper. ‘What an amazing coincidence, don’t you think?’

Scarlett slowly peered at the article he pointed to, a vague feeling of dread setting up in her chest. She wished she’d had the forethought to throw the bloody newspaper in the bin, or even set fire to it, to make sure it had gone forever. What could he have seen that hadn’t already been discussed?

On the page, a small picture of Harrison Dominic sitting in his flash car, had been positioned incongruously next to a grim picture of Sky’s body being removed from an ambulance. She hated that the paper had seen fit to republish that, regardless of how insensitive it might be. Underneath the picture of Harrison was a brief one-liner. Harrison Dominic says: Skywas one of the good guys. It’s a terribletragedy, but he hasleft usthe great legacy of his music.

Scarlett closed her eyes, wondering how she’d managed to miss that article yesterday. She fervently wished now Dylan had missed it, too.

‘It’s weird that he’s also my new manager, isn’t it?’ He flicked at the page. ‘It occurred to me that you must have known him — could even call him up, if you needed a favour, perhaps?’

Belatedly, she realised that his smile was steely, false, and edged with anger. She swallowed down the bitter taste of fear rising up in her mouth. ‘Yes, is it weird,’ she managed weakly, as she picked up a mug from the draining board and poured out fresh, hot coffee, the delicious aroma filling the air.

Dylan pushed his chair back and stared at her, a comic rictus of a smile on his face. He blinked. ‘Well?’

‘Well, what?’ She poured milk into her coffee and busied herself with the toaster, hiding her face from Dylan.

‘Well,what?Is that all youhave to say?’

She rounded on him. ‘Don’t talk to me as if I’m a kid who needs chastising.’

‘And don’t you try to instigate some kind of self-righteous anger to deflect the bloody obvious.’ The smile had disappeared, replaced by a raw anger that she couldn’t really fathom.

She sighed. ‘Oh, Dylan.’ Pausing as she tried to think, realising there was no defence she shrugged. ‘I was trying to help you.’

‘So, you let me call on you, late at night, to bounce around your flat like Tigger, telling you my news, when you knew all along? Let me show off to my friends, believing that my raw talent was enough to snag a top manager. Me, bigging it up in the pub, and Mac, silly sod that he is, actually being proud of me, thinking I’d managed all of it through merit alone. You must have been laughing your socks off behind my back.’

‘No, Dylan, never.’ She raised her mug to her lips, holding it tight with her trembling fingers to stop from sloshing coffee onto the floor. His calm fury was worse than his anger, and she felt ill-equipped to deal with it, especially when she so hadn’t been expecting it.

‘Now I think of it, how naive of me to think it would all pull together so easily. I meet a famous producer and within weeks I’ve got gigs booked up, and I’m calling him by his first name on the phone and riding in his Lambo.’ He gave a small laugh. ‘And eating sausage rolls straight out of the paper bag as if he’s my best mate . . .’ He stared at her bleakly through eyes that showed a world of hurt. ‘You know him well?’

She nodded as she swallowed down a lump of emotion she couldn’t quite identify.

‘And you never said a bloody word.’ He drawled out the sentence, his disdain clear. ‘I could have done this thing on my own, eventually. I didn’t need your help, you know.’ He pushed to his feet, his eyes flinty.

‘No, you couldn’t.’ She flashed her anger straight back at him. ‘Have you any idea how hard it is to break in to the music industry without an in by someone in the know? Grow up. You would have been playing on the streets for years, until your teeth started to look like Stanley’s and you smelled like him too. Although, wait, no you wouldn’t, because you have a beautiful home and a middle-class family to fall back on — oh and there is always the degree, if it didn’t work out. You just forgot to mention that bit earlier.’

Her lips twisted, not with anger but with the effort of holding back tears of frustration.

‘I see. So just, because you slept with a famous musician you now know all about the world of agents and talent seekers, do you?’

She stared at him in horror. They hadn’t even had breakfast together, before the spectre of Sky raised his ghostly head and that was how it would be — forever. ‘How dare you bring that up!’ She slammed her cup down on the table and wrapped her shirt around herself, hiding her body. She’d carelessly thrown it on, not even fastening the buttons, half hoping that she would tempt Dylan back to bed.

How quicklythings change, shethought.

She drew herself up to her full height. ‘I didn’t want to go out with you, remember? You were the one who chased me. I barely knew you when I spoke to Harrison. I was just doing a favour for the friendly busker boy whose feelings I’d hurt by turning him down. I thought it was the least I could do — and I did it because I wanted to help, no other reason.’ She dashed away a tear angrily as she tried to maintain her stance, but it was hard to sustain.

‘And there was not one minute, in the time we’ve been together, when you thought it might be a good idea to tell me this?’ He threw the folded newspaper on the table. ‘I thought we trusted each other.’

Anger flared from deep within her. ‘Trust? Hah!’ He had no idea how hard it had been for her to have faith in another man. ‘You know what I should have trusted? I should have trusted my instincts and kept right away from sleeping with you. This thing—’ she stabbed her finger at the newspaper ‘—and this man I loved, will always come between us, because you can’t handle it.’

‘It’s not about him, at all! It’s about truth and honesty.’

‘Bollocks, is it. It’s about you using such qualities as a weapon to keep me in line. You can’t bear the thought of me having had a relationship before you.’ Her anger choked her — she didn’t even know if she was making sense or where the words had come from. She’d thought herself in love with him only minutes before.

‘How much more is there to tell me, Scarlett? What else are you hiding?’ His voice dripped icy anger and contempt, as if he hadn’t heard her words, wanted to twist the knife he’d already plunged into her heart.

Scarlett sighed, her own emotions shifting to calm acceptance as the inevitable outcome of their argument took shape. ‘Well now, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, little rich boy begging on the street.’

She didn’t even shout. She was done.

Dylan must have sensed the change, because his own anger seemed to dissipate, and a pleading tone crept in as he repeated, ‘I thought you trusted me.’

She tried to hide her desolation that, once again, she’d failed. ‘I thought I trusted you, too.’

Dylan took a half step towards her, but she didn’t want to know if he intended to placate her or rant at her. She didn’t care. She wanted out and she certainly didn’t want him to see how hurt she was.

She threw him an icy glare, stormed out of the room and pounded down the stairs into the bedroom that she’d so recently left bubbling with happiness. She pulled on the rest of her clothes, casting a last, sad look at the crumpled bed where she had spent the most magical night of her life. It really truly had been. It was too much.

After pushing the bedroom door shut to keep Dylan out, she threw the few things she’d unpacked into her bag. She checked her face in the mirror, determined not to let Dylan see how much he’d hurt her. Dragging her fingers through the mess of her hair, she pasted on a smile and pulled the door open.

Dylan, clearly agitated, paced at the top of the stairs and lunged towards her as she emerged from his room. ‘I’m sorry, Scarlett. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

She stopped, held up her hands to ward him off and shook her head in sorrow. ‘For a couple who were supposed to be falling in love, we appear to have argued more than is traditional, don’t you think? That’s not right, is it?’

‘I was pissed off. Am I not allowed to be?’

‘Yes, of course you are. It’s just that . . .’ She shook her head again as words failed her. She put her hand to her forehead, sweeping her fringe out of the way. ‘I don’t think any of this was a good idea. But it’s okay.’

‘It is?’ His relief was palpable as he moved to take her overnight bag out of her hand. She waved him away. ‘No, I won’t stay. Probably stayed too long, as it is. I need to . . .’

She jerked her thumb towards the hallway, her mouth twisting in pain. ‘It’s for the best,’ she added.

Dylan’s smile of gratitude faded. ‘No, it’s not for the best, for either of us. Don’t leave, please. We can sort this out.’

‘We really can’t. It’s plain to see how this will end, and I don’t think my heart could bear to go through it again. You were my first since . . . since, you know.’ She inclined her head towards the table where the newspaper had been ripped and scrunched up. ‘If this was no more than an exercise to see how I would fare, let loose on the circuit, as it were, it would be deemed a success. I’ve proved I’m not up to the task.’

‘No, it’s my fault, Scarlett — all mine.’

She shook her head sadly. ‘And I wouldn’t relish being left on the sidelines again, being needy and pathetic because my boyfriend is famous and every other woman wants a piece of him. At least I know one thing for sure, Dylan, Harrison was happy to help, give you a go, but he wouldn’t waste time with you if you didn’t have what it takes. I just gave you a leg up.’ She pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. ‘For which, it appears, I am sorry.’

Despite it feeling as though her heart was bleedingout, she fixed on a wan smile. ‘Goodluck,although I don’tthink you’llneedit.’

She headed down the hallway, opened the front door, and pressed her key fob. The Audi lights flashed as the car came to life, and for a moment she faltered, suddenly hoping that Dylan would find a way back for them both, wishing she could turn the clock back.

Dylan followed her down the hallway, and she turned to him, with hope in her eyes, but he just pushed his hands into his pockets and stared bleakly at the Audi, refusing to meet her eyes.

‘This was all a game to you, wasn’t it? The bit you never intended to happen was for us to be together.’

‘Believe that, if it makes you happy.’ She drew herself up, thrust out her chin, and marched down the pathway.

‘Wait!’

Yes! She turned, her heart leaping, but she raised her eyebrows slowly and coolly as if she had all the time in the world to hear him out.

‘Will you be okay? I mean will the photographers still be lurking?’

She exhaled. No redemption there, then. ‘As if you care,’ she threw at him as she marched on, and out of the door.

‘Stupid bastard,’ she muttered, as she snatched open the car door. She threw her bag onto the passenger seat as, with a heavy heart, she adjusted the seat and mirrors from the drive up to Southwold, almost imagining the seat was still warm from Dylan’s body. She hoped her blurred vision would clear before she set off on the long haul home.

Her tears showed no sign of abating, though, and waiting until she’d rounded the corner where she was sure Dylan couldn’t see her, she fumbled for the box of tissues in the glove box. Something told her she’d need them all before she reached the sterile safety of her home once more.