RAFE
Lizzie runs up through the main atrium, pushing aside groups of attendees who have spilt out of the auditorium after the disruption.
She’s out on the riverbank, heading God knows where, before I reach her.
“Stop, Lizzie. Stop!” I call, but she doesn’t until she glances over her shoulder and trips. She doesn’t fall, but her stumble gives me the second I need to catch up.
I reach out, but she swerves away, backing up against the wall that separates us from the Thames.
“Don’t touch me,” she screeches.
I raise my hands, breathing hard. “Okay.”
She tips her head back and stares at the clouds above, which are thick and dark with imminent rain. Placing one hand against her forehead, she says, “You slept with Diana?” Her voice breaks on the question.
Heat spreads up my back, sweat prickling on my nape. “Yes.”
“Was it the night you took her to the opera?”
“No.”
Lizzie’s breathing comes in strange, uneven bursts. “Did you do it more than once?”
“Yes.”
Her features crumple, and she lets out a pitiful whimper. “Why?”
A pause. Then, “I’m not sure you want the answer to that.”
She blinks at me, tears rimming her eyes. “She’s my friend.” She chokes out a sob. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“No.”
She whines and tries to catch the sound by pressing both hands to her mouth, dropping them a moment later. “Has it been going on the whole time I’ve been away? All these months?”
“No. God, no.”
“Then how long? When did you last see her?”
“Before today? I saw her on the street briefly at Easter time. But if you mean, when did I last spend time with her? Just after you left. Months ago. Before Christmas.”
Lizzie’s breathing hitches. “Do you love her?”
The question hits like an unexpected blow, but the speed of my response shocks me even more. “Yes. I love her. I’m in love with her. I have been for months.”
Stepping away from the wall, she turns first one way, then the other, as if she has no idea what to do or where to go. She swipes at her tears with both hands, cursing as she does it.
My heart races, nerves churning in my gut. I want to reach out and hold her, but she’d only shove me away, so I wait.
When she’s marginally more composed, she rests back against the wall, slouching. “Does she know?”
“I haven’t told her.”
Lizzie presses her lips together, but it doesn’t stop the quiver in her chin. “And you’ve loved her all that time?”
“I have.”
Turning so her back is to me, she puts her hands on the concrete wall, looking out across the river. When she lowers her head, and I wonder if she might throw up. Her next question comes quietly. “Does she love you back?”
I step up beside her against the wall, the two of us looking out towards the river now. I fix my gaze on a small boat chugging down the Thames. “I don’t know.”
The breeze catches a strand of Lizzie’s dark hair, and she shifts it off her face. “Why haven’t you seen her?”
“She ended it. She didn’t want it to become something we’d have to hide from you when you came back. Said it would make her a terrible friend and me a terrible father.”
Lizzie tosses me a bitter look. “She’s not wrong about that last part.”
I hang my head, shaking it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She fiddles with a tiny pebble on the surface of the wall, rolling it with her fingertip for a few seconds. “She broke your heart.”
“I don’t—”
“She broke your heart to save mine.” It’s a statement that doesn’t welcome discussion.
I swallow. “I suppose so.”
She lets out a hopeless, manic sounding burst of laughter. “That’s what’s wrong with you.” Her shoulders sink, relief filling her voice. “God, I thought you were dying.”
“Dying?” I blurt.
“You look terrible. Like you’re not eating or something. I thought you might be sick and hadn’t told me. I’ve been waiting for you to break the news. You’re not sick, are you?”
“I’m not sick,” I confirm, threads of tension leaving my body. “I didn’t realise I looked that bad.”
She turns, facing away from the river again, and rests her elbows behind her on the wall, letting her entire body relax.
In the distance, there’s a rumble of thunder, and she glances up before looking back at me.
“Maybe terrible is an exaggeration. But worse than when I left, for sure. So this is good news, I guess. I couldn’t take you being sick and heartbroken.
I mean, you are a terrible father for this, but I don’t want you to die over it.
I’m glad you’re not sick.” She sighs, wiping again at her tears.
“But if you don’t fatten yourself up and sort yourself out, Diana won’t want you back. ”
“Excuse me?”
Lizzie shrugs. “She’s flourishing, and you’re fading away. She looks so beautiful at the moment. Glorious up there on the stage. Totally out of your league, by the way.”
“Well, thanks,” I mutter, unsure how the conversation took this turn.
For a while, we’re both quiet, staring out into the distance. I don’t know what Lizzie’s thinking, but I’m still mulling over her words. Finally, I ask, “Are you suggesting you want me to tell Diana?”
“That you love her? Yes. You made a bloody great scene in there, so you might as well. Everyone knows now. Or at least every person in that auditorium knows, and if they don’t, they’re busy googling your name and uploading videos to social media full of conspiracy theories. You’ll be famous by morning.”
I grimace. “Sounds terrible.”
Lizzie heaves a breath, her shoulders sinking lower as she exhales.
“Maybe Diana’s fine without you. I mean, she looks fine.
She looks great. But either way, you have to go and tell her how you feel because what you just admitted is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.
” She retches. “It’s still gross, but very romantic. Diana would like it.”
I allow myself a single chuckle. “She probably would.”
“I’m serious. You can’t be withering away because you’re in love with someone who ended it with you because of me.
I’m not some evil witch. I don’t need you to keep putting me first. I’m an adult now.
I love you. I want you to be happy. And I know you’ve never really loved anyone.
” She swallows, looking away as she lowers her head. “Maybe not even my mother.”
“Lizzie—”
She raises a hand. “I really hoped you’d find someone. I prayed that you’d fall in love and be happy.”
“You prayed?”
“Yeah. I did. I know we’re not religious, but what else could I do?
” She laughs. “Now that I think of it, I prayed really hard right before I went off to find Diana in that Uxbridge flat that smelled like fried onions and didn’t have any heating.
I prayed in the car on the way there.” She presses her hands together and lifts her gaze to the sky.
“Please God, let my dad find love. He’s so grumpy and lonely, and all he does is work.
” She shoots me a look, tapping two fingers to her sternum.
“So I did it, really. It was me. I found love for you. I brought it right into the house.”
I contemplate telling her that Diana and I met before she ever brought her into the Emblem, but that would require an explanation I’m not willing to give. There are some things Lizzie never needs to know.
“When you get married, I’m taking all the credit,” she says, and her chuffed expression makes me smile.
“I’m not getting married. I’m not even with Diana. I don’t think I ever really was.”
“Well.” She shrugs. “If you don’t go and tell her that you love her, I’ll do it. It will be awkward and horrible, and I’ll ruin your chance to tell the woman you love how you feel. Diana’s a romantic. I promise you, she definitely won’t want that.”