‘So what happens now? Are the two of you over?’
She’d asked herself the same thing all through the night, but still didn’t have an answer. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, filling with a deep ache. ‘I hope not because I know I overreacted and that it was a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. Paula Burrows isn’t the problem. Kit and I are. Me in particular.’
‘Has he called?’
Lily shook her head a bit too vigorously, and despite the coffee her head started pounding again. ‘No. And I’m not sure he will.’
‘Why on earth not?’
‘I think I owe him an apology,’ she said, rubbing her temples and grimacing.
‘It sounds like he owes you one too.’
‘Possibly.’
‘So what’s stopping you from calling him?’
‘He’s in Rome.’
‘And?’
‘It’s not the sort of conversation I want to have over the phone. There may be grovelling. From me at least. And it’s not going to be pretty.’
Zoe shot her a smile. ‘In that case,’ she said, ‘don’t you think the phone sounds rather perfect?’
*
Zoe was right, thought Lily as she unlocked her front door after getting home from work and went inside. What was wrong with apologising and possibly grovelling over the phone? Nothing. Her blushes, and Kit’s, would be spared, and actually it was the only option she had because frankly she didn’t think her nerves could stand another night like last night.
She dumped her bag on the floor and hung her coat up and glanced at her watch. In fact she’d do it right now. Strike while the iron was hot and all that. It was seven o’clock, eight in Rome. Too late for a meeting or a site visit, surely. Kit would be having supper. A drink. Working in his hotel room, perhaps.
Maybe even waiting to hear from her.
Brightening a bit at that, she went into the kitchen and poured herself some wine—her hangover having been taken care of earlier by three more espressos and two bags of crisps—then picked up her phone.
Tapping it against her mouth, she wandered into the sitting room and settled herself on the sofa. Right. So. What was she going to say? And how was she going to say it?
Ten minutes later, Lily had a strategy of sorts and a few points jotted down so that she didn’t forget them, and she was more than ready to apologise, grovel and do whatever else Kit asked of her. She also had an empty glass of wine and cheeks red with embarrassment at the memory of how she’d behaved last night but that was fine because he wasn’t going to get to see either.
With her heart in her mouth she picked up the phone and dialled his mobile. Which went straight through to voicemail without ringing. She hung up. Tried again. But the same thing happened so she left a message asking him to call her when he had a chance. And then texted.
Trying to keep a lid on a simmering sense of frustration, next she tried the hotel he’d told her he was staying at. But there was no answer from his room there either, and the reception desk couldn’t help.
Out of ideas, Lily put the phone on the coffee table. Then sat back and frowned as she felt herself sort of deflate. She’d made notes, dammit. Thought about this at length and in detail. She’d also summoned up quite a lot of her courage to call, and after such a build-up the let-down was huge. She felt oddly cheated. And just the teensiest bit put out because after all the lengths—the emotional ones especially—she’d gone to to contact him, the least he could do was be there to listen to what she had to say.
So where was he? Who was he with? What was he doing? And should she be worried?
Of course she shouldn’t be worried, she told herself sternly. He was probably out. Or in the shower. The battery of his mobile might be flat. Or he might be somewhere where he didn’t get a signal.
On the other hand, their argument last night had been pretty hum-dinging, and she had been kind of unreasonable and irrational, so could she have driven him into the arms of another woman? Someone comforting and amenable, not argumentative and melodramatic.
Lily went cold and her heart slowed right down as her head swam at the thought of Kit with someone else. And then she blinked, gave herself a quick shake and pulled herself together. No. She was being ridiculous. That wasn’t at all likely.
Was it?
No. No. No.
They’d had one argument. Big deal. Millions of couples across the globe did. All the time. More often probably. It was normal. Nothing to worry about. She just needed to relax, that was all. Get a sense of perspective. Not leap to wholly unlikely conclusions based on her massive insecurities.