‘OK, fine,’ she said, with a small smile he didn’t like one little bit. ‘Then ask Paula to resign or switch to a different team or something.’
His heart sank further. ‘I can’t do that either.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she’s very good at her job and it would be grossly unfair. If not downright illegal.’
‘I see,’ she said coolly, but he didn’t think she did. ‘So you really won’t fire them or get rid of her?’
‘I won’t.’
Lily pushed against his chest and took a step back. ‘Then I really don’t think there’s anything else to be said, do you?’
TWELVE
The following morning Lily stumbled in to work, late for the first time since she and Zoe had begun working together, but that wasn’t hugely surprising since she’d only fallen asleep at dawn. She was feeling on edge and cranky and not just from lack of sleep.
‘Morning,’ said Zoe, looking up from her monitor and shooting her a smile. ‘At last. I was beginning to worry.’
‘Sorry.’ Lily dumped her bag on her desk with rather more force than was necessary and then stalked over to the coffee machine.
‘How are you feeling? Headache better?’
‘What?’ she muttered, stuffing an espresso capsule into the top and slamming the lid shut.
‘Your headache,’ said Zoe again,
only a little slower. ‘Is it better?’
‘No.’ Her head hurt like hell, but then it would given the half a bottle of wine she’d polished off when she’d got home last night.
‘Are you sure you should be here, Lily?’ said Zoe, concern evident in her voice. ‘You look absolutely awful.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ said Lily, grabbing a cup, sticking it beneath the spout and pressing the button while thinking that however awful she looked it wasn’t a patch on how awful she felt.
Last night, that scene with Kit, had been horrible, she reflected with a shudder. So much for hoping that the unnecessary—she’d thought—jealousy would fade. And so much for being able to ignore the doubts she’d had in that garden square. All afternoon while she’d been sitting at home alone with her thoughts and practically climbing the walls, the jealousy and doubts had been growing, feeding rapaciously off her insecurities and her fears.
But she’d made herself calm down and by the time she’d joined Kit for dinner she’d thought she could contain the swell of emotion. Control it. Ignore it. Clearly she’d been mistaken because he’d pushed and prodded and poked until she hadn’t been able to take any more and she’d exploded.
Right up until the point where he’d confirmed what she’d suspected she’d been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She’d totally been prepared to accept that she’d indulged her penchant for melodrama and overreacted.
In her heart of hearts she hadn’t expected him to admit she was right. Deep down she’d hoped he’d deny it. Tell her she was being an idiot, that the coincidence was just that.
But when he’d confirmed it, well, that had been just awful. That had made a mockery of all the silken promises he’d given her on the island. The promises of the last two months. All that nonsense about honesty and openness and communication when he’d been lying to her from the very moment he’d barged his way back into her life. Or at the very least lying by omission and not telling her something he should have realised she’d want to know.
Once she’d got over the shock of it she’d been so, so angry. So deeply hurt and fiercely disappointed and so rocked by the realisation that despite what she’d told him, despite what she’d thought, she evidently hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d done, she’d lost control. And that was why she’d done what she’d done and said what she’d said.
Back at home and in bed, her head churning, she’d hardly slept a wink. With time and distance in which to think more objectively than she’d been able to at the time, and with the anger and hurt fading, she’d found herself hating the way she and Kit had argued, wishing she’d held back, wishing she’d been under better control, wishing she hadn’t let her emotions get the better of her. Above all she wished she hadn’t given into the need to test his commitment to them by issuing that awful, hugely unfair ultimatum.
‘No, seriously, Lily,’ said Zoe worriedly, ‘you don’t look well at all.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not. What’s happened?’
‘I’m hung-over, that’s all.’
‘Big night?’