39. ELLY
39
ELLY
M y phone buzzes and I flip the screen to view the caller. Jack. Again. He’s rung me ten times since yesterday afternoon. I have no idea why the number of calls suddenly increased, but I’m trying to put him out of mind. He can wait until I’m ready to talk. Might as well let him sweat it out while I get my head together.
“You sure you want to sell?” Seb Hawkston’s voice pulls me back to the moment, and I put my phone away.
“Yup. I have no use for a car like this. Hardly any miles on her.” I tap the bonnet of the Lamborghini, trying to be casual about the fact I’m selling the only thing Jack bought me. God, I love this car.
But I need to get rid of it so I can pay Jack back and wash my hands of the whole stupid affair. Having this thing sitting here is a cruel reminder of our relationship, and how perfect it felt when he bought the car and told me he loved me.
Seb Hawkston stands eyeing the car, one hand in his pocket, the other at his jaw. This is the first interaction I’ve had with anyone outside of Nico and Kate’s flat since the photos came out, and I’ve hardly moved far. We’re in the basement car park, and it took a great effort of will to come down here because I’m existing in this unpleasant place where I assume everyone I meet has seen me naked.
I had to force myself to look Seb in the eye when I said hello. I know enough of him to guess he’s looked up the pictures. Maybe even studied them. But he has made no mention of them. He’s been nothing but a gentleman, and I’m so thankful.
When he smiles, his dimple deepens and his pale blue eyes appear to glimmer. It’s cute. I bet a lot of women would drop their underwear for him in a flash, purely for the dimple. How had I not noticed it before?
The answer hits even harder. Because Jack was always there, taking up every scrap of my attention. Absorbing the very essence of me.
It doesn’t matter how attractive another man is, or how deep his dimple is, I only want Jack.
My heart breaks a little at the thought.
I really need to get rid of this car, so I don’t have to keep thinking of him, feeling guilty, remembering how he’d sat in the driver’s seat and glanced over at me and said, I fucking hate orange, but I love you.
But I can’t push Jack out of my head. He lives in there.
Standing here with Seb, while he contemplates buying this damn stupid car, an ache builds within me. I miss Jack.
I miss him so fucking much.
But I’m not ready to face him or to stop screening his calls. As if on cue, my phone buzzes and I imagine it’s him sending another message to add to all the others I haven’t read.
I can’t look at them yet, because if I do, I’ll run right back to him, and I have to get on my feet first. I have to sort my career, work out how I’m going to salvage my reputation, or perhaps create a new identity. Change my name by deed poll. Get enough plastic surgery that I’m unrecognisable.
I can’t hide out in Kate and Nico’s apartment forever.
“Orange,” Seb muses, a little furrow appearing between his brows. “Bold choice.”
I make an effort to steady my breathing and pretend a wave of regret hasn’t just assailed me. “I guess so.” I refrain from explaining that I chose it to piss Jack off. To offend his sophisticated sensibilities. And he still bought the damn thing.
Seb continues examining the car, stroking the bodywork with a fingertip, as though he’s checking it for dust. “Jack bought this car, right?”
A dark, tightly woven ball of fear plummets through me, as if any mention of Jack leads directly to the photo debacle, and suddenly Seb being a gentleman and not talking about them doesn’t matter anymore, because I feel exposed anyway. Totally fucking exposed.
Am I going to feel like this forever now?
I have the sensation of zipping something up internally, hiding part of me away, just so I can turn to him and say, “Yes. Sort of… Anyway, it’s new. I’ve barely driven it. Nico said it might be your thing. Or your thing for a while, anyway.”
“Doesn’t Jack want it?”
“Nope,” I say with absolute certainty. Jack Lansen would not choose an orange car. “I want to get rid of it.” Seb’s brows rise, but he rolls his lips, and before any sound can come from his mouth, I let it all spill out. “I tried to buy it on his card, and it makes me feel guilty, knowing it’s down here. It was a stupid thing to do. I want to sell it and pay Jack back.”
Seb makes a dismissive noise that seems to come from right behind his teeth. “He won’t care about the money.” He assesses the car again, then his gaze snags on mine. “I’ll help you out. I’ll take it off your hands.” He whistles. “This is one hell of a car.”
I’m beset by the need to hug him. Thank fuck.
“Can you transfer the money to Jack? I don’t want anything to do with it. I want to forget about the whole damn thing.”
My chest aches. Am I lying? What if the only thing I ever have left to remember my entire relationship with Jack is this damn car?
This damn car, and a ruined reputation.
I become aware that Seb is staring at me, a contemplative look on his face. “You must be angry at Lydia, eh?”
Her name is so unexpected in this context, during this conversation, that I recoil. “Why?”
Seb looks uncomfortable, and I suspect he regrets raising this topic. “The photos. What she did was awful. God, I feel sorry for you.”
My internal organs are imploding, shame crushing my insides. I don’t want to talk about the photos. It’s an effort to conceal the violence of my reaction, but I need to understand what the hell he’s talking about. “What exactly did she do?”
Seb searches my gaze for some sign that I already know, but when he doesn’t find it, his eyes widen. “Shit.” He exhales a low sound. “Jack didn’t speak to you?”
I shake my head, then remember the messages that came in from him last night and this morning. The flood of them, all unread, his calls all unanswered on my phone.
“Did he say something to you?” My voice sounds thready and my pulse is hammering. My legs feel like they’re made of water.
“He came to see me in the office. He was worked up. Determined to try and work out how those photos were leaked. He had all sorts of questions about Lydia. Whether I’d been with her the night of the fundraiser.” He tosses his head to make his hair fly off his forehead. It immediately falls right back where it was. “I was, but… not that way. She was only interested in Jack.” Of course she fucking was. “Anyway, she had these photos she was looking at. She was totally distracted. I thought it was porn—” He breaks off, catching himself, cringing at what he’s said. “Sorry.”
His story has me hooked, and my shame has taken a backseat to the intrigue. I wave a hand to dismiss his concerns. “Go on.”
“It was your photos. The ones Jack took of you. She’d stolen them from his phone at some point in the evening. As soon as he realised, he bolted out of my office like a prize-racehorse. Never seen him move so fast.” Seb pauses. “He really didn’t call you?”
“He did… but I didn’t answer. He left a bunch of messages.”
A beat of silence passes, during which I feel every ounce of Seb’s judgment.
“Go listen to them.” He rests a hand on his hip and exhales loudly. “This is none of my business, but I’ve never seen Lansen this cut up over someone. What went down with your photos was shit. Really fucking shit. But Jack’s not entirely to blame, and you should listen to what he has to say.” He turns back to the car, signalling that the conversation is over, even though for me it’s just begun. I am buzzing with this knowledge. “I’ll take the car,” he adds, holding up a finger to indicate I wait, then pulls his phone from his pocket to make a call, I assume to clear the money with the bank or something, but my hand whips out and grips his wrist.
He stares in shock at where my fingers are clamped around his sleeve.
“Sorry. No. The car’s not for sale.” The words are tumbling out of me. “I made a mistake. I can’t do it. I can’t sell it. I’m going to keep it.”
Seb tugs his arm from my grip and I let go. “Jesus, you and Lansen need to sort your shit out. The two of you are wasting my fucking time.” He shakes his head, but I catch a hint of a smile and he winks as he adds, “Give him a kiss from me, won’t you?”
Still shaking his head, he walks away, and when he’s gone, I open my phone. My knees feel unstable, but I force myself to stay upright as I scroll through the messages. A lot of them are just missed calls, but on a few of them he’s left voice messages.
I listen to them one by one.
Fuck, El. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have deleted the photos when you asked. I should have got rid of them. I never, ever, imagined anything like this would happen.
What can I do, El? What can I do to make this up to you?
I need to talk to you.
El, please, call me back.
I don’t recognise the sound of his voice. He sounds so serious, broken almost. What have I done to him?
Finally, I open the voice memo and listen to Jack’s exchange with Lydia, and when I get to the end, I have only one thought.
That fucking bitch.