The thought alone is enough to make a man feel like he could fly, I reflect as I take a step onto the passerelle, my hands gripping the aluminium railing. As far as thoughts go, it’s not so bad to be the last thought I ever have as the metal beneath my fingers vibrates, a rending sound filling my ears, reverberating into my flesh. I don’t have another moment to process what’s happening. One second, I’m gripping the barrier, the next, the LED lighting under my feet blur. My head suddenly feels like it’s been cleaved in two as I follow the railing into the water. Colours around me meld. Blue. Grey. White. The moon like a smear of paint up above.
Death is only dangerous in a lie lived without love.
A flash of cruel clarity quickly followed by another.
I would’ve been happy living a life that simply lingered between her kisses.
I see colours no more. There’s not time to be philosophical as I sink into the dark, empty void, the bitter taste in my mouth not water but regret.
35
Rose
I need to be inside you.
His voice is somewhere between a breath and a groan, his hand sliding up my thigh.
Oh, yes please. My voice is breathless as I grasp the edge of the sink, grounding myself as my body begins to tremble.
My whole body.
Aching.
Shivering.
I want him so badly I can almost taste it.
His eyes track up my body, his gaze full of heat and promise.
Rain on mullioned glass. A house with honeysuckle and a view. Children playing in the pool, their hair lightened and skin kissed by the sun, kisses in the kitchen, arms wrapping around my waist as I rinse a glass at the sink. The scent of bergamot and spice and the musky scent of his skin. The feeling of happiness radiating from my chest, so bright and so large, I feel like I could burst.
Bees buzzing around pink honeysuckle.
Buzz Lightyear lying in the grass.
Buzzing.
Incessant buzzing. Like a bluebottle flying around my ear.
I come up from my pillows until I’m sitting up, ramrod straight in bed. Amber’s whisper drifts from my ear. Rich or poor, a good man is his own reward.
My phone is ringing—it’s already in my hands, but that isn’t what’s dragged me from sleep. I blink, brushing the hair from my face as my mind begins to whir. It can’t be Amber because she wouldn’t be at my front door. Unless I’m about to be faced with two emergencies. One on the phone, one in my face.
Throwing back the covers, I prod my phone as I note the time. It’s not even four thirty yet. The number is local but not one I recognise.
‘’Lo,’ I croak, my feet already trotting across the cool floorboards. I guess I can add champagne to the list of things that make me sleep like the dead.
‘Thank Christ. It’s like waking the fucking dead.’ I bustle along the hallway, pulling the shouty voice away from my ear as it then commands, ‘Open the fucking door.’
‘Who is this?’ The words are out before my mind grasps that there’s only one man alive who would speak to me in this tone. Everett. My brain skips from one name to another as I unlock and pull open the front door. A fist instantly squeezes my heart as I take in his creased T-shirt and the way his hair is literally standing on end. But more than that it’s his forbidding expression. ‘What’s happened. It’s Remy, isn’t it?’
‘I’ll tell you on the way.’ I step into the communal hallway when his large hand cups my shoulder. ‘It’s best you put some clothes on first. We don’t want to worry the rest of Monaco.’
‘Not until you tell me what it is,’ I reply as I try unsuccessfully to shake his hand off.
‘He’s okay.’ His eyes are soft and kind, but tired too, as he gives my shoulder a little shove. ‘Go on. I’ll wait here.’
I nod and step back, and I’m still nodding as I skitter along the hallway to my bedroom because if he’s making jokes, it can’t be all that bad, whatever it is.
‘You can start now,’ I yell, stabbing my legs into a pair of jeans because, despite my internal reassurance, I’m freaking the fuck out. My whole body shakes, the only thing stopping my ass from hitting the floor is stumbling to the bed.
Get a hold of yourself, I intone, reaching for my abandoned bra and almost simultaneously whipping my nightie, okay, T-shirt, up and off my head.
Inhale.
Stand.
I shove my phone into my back pocket, grabbing a hair tie from the top of the chest, and a clean sweater from the drawer beneath. I make my way out into the hallway, still pulling it on.
‘Talk now. Tell me, please.’
Rhett frowns, his gaze cutting to the slice of skin between my waistband and sweater. I yank it down.