it.
And as I hold it in my hand, I turn and my eyes connect with Edward’s.
He’s across the gallery in a few quick strides and takes my elbow as he quickly escorts me away from Harry. He’s going too fast and I almost trip. I turn back to see Harry raising his eyebrows again. He’s clearly delighted that he’s made Edward so angry.
‘What did he say?’ Edward hisses when we’re out of earshot. He takes the card out of my hand and crushes it in his fist and drops it on the floor.
‘Nothing. He just had questions.’
‘So
not
nothing,’ Edward counters back, as if I’m being stupid. I’m frightened by his tone. I want nice Edward back.
‘He was snooping round, wanting to know why you moved, where you lived.’ I don’t tell him about his comment about the missing painting.
‘Fuck!’ Edward swears. It’s weird to hear him swear. He’s not the type. He’s clearly cross.
Really
cross. He stops suddenly, when we’re back in the large gallery, and turns to me. His eyes are blazing. ‘And what did you say?’
‘Nothing,’ I tell him, talking loudly over the thumping music, the beat of which throbs with my cheeks. ‘Nothing at all. I promise you.’
He leans in closer, his eyes boring into mine, like he can rewind the experience by the sheer force of his stare and replay it to his own satisfaction. For a moment I’m really scared. I glimpse now that there’s something lurking inside him, something deep down and scary that I don’t want to unleash.
‘I promise,’ I tell him again, but I feel shaky. Suddenly, I want to cry. I’m way out of my depth. ‘You can trust me. I told you that.’
He nods and exhales, like he’s deflating. His flash of anger suddenly shuts off, as if he’s slammed the door on it. Then he embraces me in a tight hug. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry,’ he says, stroking my hair. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I just can’t stand guys like him. And it annoys me that he honed in like a vulture, the second my back was turned.’
‘It’s OK. I understand,’ I say. But I don’t. I don’t understand anything at all. But all I can think of is the relief of his embrace.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he whispers in my ear.
20
The journey back home seems to take no time at all in comparison to the time it took to drive from the house, but maybe that’s because I have Edward to occupy me. We sit in the back, the low light on, and he tops up my glass with champagne. He has his legs stretched out and I’m propped up with pillows, my feet on the seat and I’m covered in a soft check blanket.
I have my phone plugged into a cradle that’s popped out of the door and I’ve had my playlist on. He has different taste from me, but I’m surprised at our mutual love of The Killers. He’s got a great voice. We’re laughing as we sing along. I don’t care about Trewin. He’s behind the glass. I’m just so relieved to be out of the gallery and alone with Edward. Nice Edward. Not angry Edward. I don’t ever want to incur his fury again.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you. This phone is useless at the house,’ I tell him, as I lean forward to change the song. I take a slurp of champagne. I feel giddy and pissed – but in a great way, not in a slurry way. The kind of pissed you always want to be when you have a drink – like you’re on sparkling form. ‘I have no reception or Internet. Is that something we can sort out?’ I ask casually, peering at the screen to put on another playlist.
‘I’m sure we can,’ he says, but when I look up, he’s frowning. ‘That’s more Marnie’s department than mine. She’ll help you. Ask her.’
Marnie. It’s the first time he’s mentioned her tonight. I’m suddenly nervous. Like we’ve hit on a taboo subject. I don’t know how she’d feel if she could see me now, drinking champagne with her husband. And, yes, I can’t deny it – flirting with him.
Having never met her, I really can’t imagine what they’re like together.
And as I hold it in my hand, I turn and my eyes connect with Edward’s.
He’s across the gallery in a few quick strides and takes my elbow as he quickly escorts me away from Harry. He’s going too fast and I almost trip. I turn back to see Harry raising his eyebrows again. He’s clearly delighted that he’s made Edward so angry.
‘What did he say?’ Edward hisses when we’re out of earshot. He takes the card out of my hand and crushes it in his fist and drops it on the floor.
‘Nothing. He just had questions.’
‘So
not
nothing,’ Edward counters back, as if I’m being stupid. I’m frightened by his tone. I want nice Edward back.
‘He was snooping round, wanting to know why you moved, where you lived.’ I don’t tell him about his comment about the missing painting.
‘Fuck!’ Edward swears. It’s weird to hear him swear. He’s not the type. He’s clearly cross.
Really
cross. He stops suddenly, when we’re back in the large gallery, and turns to me. His eyes are blazing. ‘And what did you say?’
‘Nothing,’ I tell him, talking loudly over the thumping music, the beat of which throbs with my cheeks. ‘Nothing at all. I promise you.’
He leans in closer, his eyes boring into mine, like he can rewind the experience by the sheer force of his stare and replay it to his own satisfaction. For a moment I’m really scared. I glimpse now that there’s something lurking inside him, something deep down and scary that I don’t want to unleash.
‘I promise,’ I tell him again, but I feel shaky. Suddenly, I want to cry. I’m way out of my depth. ‘You can trust me. I told you that.’
He nods and exhales, like he’s deflating. His flash of anger suddenly shuts off, as if he’s slammed the door on it. Then he embraces me in a tight hug. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry,’ he says, stroking my hair. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I just can’t stand guys like him. And it annoys me that he honed in like a vulture, the second my back was turned.’
‘It’s OK. I understand,’ I say. But I don’t. I don’t understand anything at all. But all I can think of is the relief of his embrace.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he whispers in my ear.
20
The journey back home seems to take no time at all in comparison to the time it took to drive from the house, but maybe that’s because I have Edward to occupy me. We sit in the back, the low light on, and he tops up my glass with champagne. He has his legs stretched out and I’m propped up with pillows, my feet on the seat and I’m covered in a soft check blanket.
I have my phone plugged into a cradle that’s popped out of the door and I’ve had my playlist on. He has different taste from me, but I’m surprised at our mutual love of The Killers. He’s got a great voice. We’re laughing as we sing along. I don’t care about Trewin. He’s behind the glass. I’m just so relieved to be out of the gallery and alone with Edward. Nice Edward. Not angry Edward. I don’t ever want to incur his fury again.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you. This phone is useless at the house,’ I tell him, as I lean forward to change the song. I take a slurp of champagne. I feel giddy and pissed – but in a great way, not in a slurry way. The kind of pissed you always want to be when you have a drink – like you’re on sparkling form. ‘I have no reception or Internet. Is that something we can sort out?’ I ask casually, peering at the screen to put on another playlist.
‘I’m sure we can,’ he says, but when I look up, he’s frowning. ‘That’s more Marnie’s department than mine. She’ll help you. Ask her.’
Marnie. It’s the first time he’s mentioned her tonight. I’m suddenly nervous. Like we’ve hit on a taboo subject. I don’t know how she’d feel if she could see me now, drinking champagne with her husband. And, yes, I can’t deny it – flirting with him.
Having never met her, I really can’t imagine what they’re like together.
Similar Books
