‘OK, well, try to rest.’
‘I will.’ Not.
‘And I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘See you tomorrow,’ she echoed dully, and hung up.
In something of a daze she stumbled out of the park and hailed a taxi, and when it screeched to a halt gave the driver her address and climbed in.
She didn’t notice much about the journey home. Her head was swirling too fast and her stomach was churning too violently.
What should she do about what she might or might not have just discovered? Should she confront Kit? Summon up her courage and ask him outright to clarify things? And whatever his response, should she bite the bullet and ask all those questions about the woman he’d betrayed her with that she’d been in too much of a state to ask at the time but had secretly wanted to ask for weeks—or years, if she was being honest?
Or should she just leave it?
Because she could well be getting the wrong end of the stick here. It could be a coincidence. He could have had the one-night stand with someone else in the PR department. And did she really want to bring the past up? Did she really want to know all the sordid details of what had happened five years ago? For what could possibly be no reason at all other than to satisfy her morbid curiosity?
No, she didn’t, she thought firmly as the taxi pulled up outside her house and she got out, handed over a couple of notes and told the driver to keep the change. So she’d leave well alone. Put it to the back of her mind. Forget about it.
Things between her and Kit were good. Better than good. The searing—and probably wholly unnecessary—jealousy would fade. As would the hurt stabbing at her heart. With a bit of effort she could bury the doubt. And in a jiffy she would be back to normal.
Anyway, Kit was going away tomorrow and they had a lovely evening planned, and she wasn’t going to rock this boat for anything.
ELEVEN
Something was up, thought Kit, frowning to himself as he stood back to let Lily into the lift that would zoom them up to his suite. She’d been quiet throughout dinner. Pensive, monosyllabic and weirdly distant.
Given she’d just landed a huge deal, and considering she’d been aching to go to that restaurant since it had opened, her demeanour was unusual, disconcerting. He’d pulled strings and had managed to get a highly sought-after table at relatively short notice, and while he didn’t need her gratitude a bit of enthusiasm would have been nice.
And not just about either the restaurant or the deal.
She’d been so excited when he asked her what she thought about moving in together, and so up for it, he’d found her excitement infectious. Earlier this evening, though, when he’d brought it up and made a joke about having to change the habit of a lifetime and start putting the lid back on the toothpaste she’d barely responded. Admittedly the joke hadn’t exactly been side-splittingly hilarious but it hadn’t even raised a roll of the eyes, and he found the change in her faintly disturbing.
So what was wrong? Was it something to do with work? Zoe? Him? And what was he going to do about it?
The doors swooshed open and as Lily went ahead of him into his open-plan living area, dropping her bag onto a chair and then shrugging out of her coat, for a moment he considered giving her time. Waiting until she sorted it out in her head and then either told him what was up or moved on.
And then he dismissed it.
No, he thought, setting his jaw and striding over to the cupboard in the kitchen that stocked the drinks. He’d made that mistake before and he wasn’t making it again. He wouldn’t give her the chance to avoid him. Wouldn’t let her deflect. Whatever was wrong they could deal with it because so far things between them had been going brilliantly, and he wouldn’t let them screw it up.
It was probably nothing more than a blip in any case, he told himself, pouring a whisky for himself and a glass of red for her. Nothing they couldn’t sort out together if only she’d let him in.
He slid the glass of wine across the breakfast bar towards her and then leaned back against the counter and looked at her. ‘OK, Lily, so what’s up?’
She glanced up at him, her eyes weirdly empty, and despite the warmth of his apartment he felt a tiny shiver race down his spine. ‘Nothing’s up.’
Yeah, right. ‘Is it work?’
‘Why would anything be up at work?’ she asked, knocking back almost half her wine.
Kit frowned because downing alcohol as if she needed the fortification wasn’t like her. ‘You tell me.’
‘Work’s fine.’
‘Zoe, then?’
‘She’s fine too.’