One Night with Her Ex

by Lucy King

  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?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘How was the restaurant?’

  ‘The restaurant was fine.’ The food had been divine. The atmosphere, however, had been positively frosty and things had gone downhill from there.

  ‘And how’s Kit?’ asked her sister, zeroing in on the trouble with a precision born from experience.

  ‘I haven’t a clue.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘The honeymoon’s over.’ She wasn’t sure the whole thing wasn’t over and her heart actually physically hurt at the thought.

  There was a pause while Zoe absorbed this news. ‘Huh?’

  ‘We had a row.’

  ‘About what?’

  The machine having done its job, Lily lifted the cup and took it back to her desk. ‘Remember the one-night stand he had?’ she said, sitting down and wrapping her hands round it as if the heat might give her the strength to relive the horrors of last night’s scene.

  ‘How could I forget?’

  ‘It turns out she works with him.’

  Zoe’s jaw dropped and her eyebrows shot up. ‘No,’ she breathed.

  ‘Yes.’

  Taking advantage of her sister’s astonishment and speechlessness Lily sipped her coffee and filled her in on the details of how she’d found out.

  ‘What did you do?’ said Zoe, once Lily had finished her rundown.

  ‘Lost it.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘I threw a wine glass at him.’

  Zoe winced. ‘Full?’

  ‘Empty.’

  ‘Classy.’

  ‘I know,’ said Lily with a sigh. ‘Not exactly my finest moment.’

  ‘I’d say you had provocation, and look on the bright side—it could have been worse.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You could have taken a key to his car, scissors to his suits and emailed his backers.’

  ‘There is that,’ said Lily with a grimace. ‘And at least I didn’t bottle it all up as usual.’

  ‘You certainly didn’t.’ Zoe shook her head. ‘But, Lil, that ultimatum… Really?’

  ‘I know,’ said Lily glumly. ‘It was wholly unreasonable. Grossly unfair. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m mortified that I did, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.’

  ‘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.

  There was bound to be a perfectly rational explanation for why Kit wasn’t answering his phone. Absolutely bound to be.

  *

  Stifling a yawn because now that he was done for the day the exhaustion he’d been holding at bay since he’d got up this morning was pouring through him like a tidal wave, Kit climbed the steps from the basement restaurant wher
e he’d had dinner and then left his colleagues ordering more drinks, and checked his phone.

  Two missed calls. One message. One text. All from Lily.

  The desire to call her had been needling him all day. He’d felt the urge to talk to her hammering away in the back of his mind throughout the site visit and the meetings that had taken up the rest of the day. But he’d been unable to do either because he’d barely had a moment to himself to think, let alone work out what he wanted to say to her and how to say it.

  Now he did, but it was late. Nearly midnight here and therefore eleven in London. He ought not to disturb her. He ought to wait until morning. On the other hand he didn’t think he could stand another night like last night during which his conscience had niggled at him so relentlessly that he’d hardly slept.

  What the hell? he thought, tapping the reply button to her text message and typing Too late to call? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  Then he hailed a passing taxi, and, after it pulled to a screeching halt beside him, climbed in and gave the driver the address of his hotel in his very dodgy Italian. As he sat back and rubbed a hand over his eyes, his phone beeped and he sat up, more alert than he’d felt at any other moment today.

  Never was Lily’s reply, and within a second he was dialling her number, his heart lurching in a way that had nothing to do with the driver, who clearly thought he was at Monza.

  The phone had barely rung before she picked up. ‘Hi,’ she said, sounding breathy, as if she’d had to run for the phone, which she couldn’t have if she’d only texted seconds ago.

  ‘Hi,’ said Kit. ‘Sorry it’s so late. I’ve only just picked up your messages. I was out for dinner with a couple of people from work. A basement place. No signal.’

  He heard her let out a breath and when she spoke again she sounded strangely relieved. ‘That’s OK. How’s it been going?’

  ‘Fine. Good.’

  ‘Good.’ There was a moment’s silence and Kit was just about to fill it when Lily got there first. ‘Look, Kit,’ she said, her voice soft and husky and sending a stab of desire shooting through him. ‘I’m so sorry about last night.’

  Kit nearly dropped the phone. She was sorry? ‘If anyone should be apologising, Lily, it’s me.’

  ‘Whatever for? I was the one who called you a jerk and threw a glass at you. I’m the one who hurled that ultimatum at you, which was utterly unforgivable. Of course I don’t expect you to fire your PR agency. I’m sorry I suggested it, and if it’s any consolation I’m mortified.’

  ‘You had justification to be angry,’ he muttered, not entirely happy about the fact that she thought she was in the wrong. ‘I should have told you about Paula. And if it had ever crossed my mind I would have. I never think of her outside the context of her working for me. She genuinely means nothing to me. Please believe me on this.’

  Lily sighed. ‘I do. I think. And with hindsight I’m not sure that last night was really about her.’

  He frowned in the darkness. ‘It wasn’t?’

  ‘No. Because I’ve thought about it, and, you know, I do forgive you.’

  ‘Then what was it about?’

  ‘I had a little wobble, that’s all. Freaked out for a moment.’

  ‘Over us?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Why?’

  There was a brief moment of silence and Kit could imagine her frowning, biting her lip as she worked it out. ‘I think I’m a bit scared, Kit. This has all been so fast. It’s kind of overwhelming.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be scared of, sweetheart.’

  ‘There’s me. And then there’s this all going wrong and my life falling apart again. Last time I eventually put myself back together again but if everything goes wrong this time I’d be in bits, and the really terrifying thing is that I’m not sure that I’d be able to put myself back together.’

  ‘You won’t have to because it won’t happen.’

  ‘How can you know that?’

  ‘Because this time whenever you’re scared or vulnerable, or whenever you think something’s overwhelming you, tell me and I’ll be there.’

  ‘I wish you were here now,’ she said quietly.

  ‘So do I. But I’ll be back tomorrow morning and we can spend the rest of the weekend making up.’

  ‘I can’t wait.’ For a moment neither of them spoke. Then she said, ‘Kit?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, sweet pea. Deeply. I always have, always will. Even when you’re throwing glasses at me and issuing unreasonable ultimatums.’

  ‘So are we OK?’

  The faint tremor in her voice cut him to the quick and at that moment he knew that he’d do everything in his power to make sure of it. ‘Of course we are.’

  THIRTEEN

  But they weren’t OK. At least Lily wasn’t.

  At first she’d clutched onto Kit’s reassurance that they were fine as if it were a lifeline, and had buried the tiny bubble of doubt somewhere deep inside where it wouldn’t bother her.

  Which hadn’t been all that hard because when he’d got back from Rome everything had been so lovely. After a weekend spent making up as promised, he’d announced that he was going to cut back on work and delegate as much as he could. With the extra time, if she was amenable to the idea, he was going to woo her.

  Lily had been very amenable to the idea, and had adored the dates, the dinners and the two minibreaks he’d taken her on. He’d poured every drop of spare energy into them and she’d fallen more and more in love with him every day that had passed.

  Which made the fact that the doubt she tried to get rid of kept bubbling away all the more frustrating.

  And she did try. Really hard. She tried to focus on the present, on the relationship she and Kit had now and the many, many positives of that. She told herself not to look too far into the future and simply to take one day at a time, as he’d suggested all those weeks ago when they’d been on that island.

  But to her despair she kept slipping back into the past. She kept dwelling on the latter stages of their marriage and reliving all the pain and hurt that she’d suffered.

  She didn’t know why she did it. She certainly didn’t want to. Most of the time she wanted to reach right inside her head and yank out all the thoughts and doubts and fears churning around inside. But she couldn’t seem to help it.

  Just as she couldn’t seem to help the horrible, insidious, burning desire to check Kit’s phone whenever he left it unattended. Or the almost irresistible temptation to casually open up his inbox and take a look at his emails whenever he was away from his laptop. Especially after the rare occasion he hadn’t been able to delegate and had had to go away.

  She hated it. Hated the way suspicion was slowly creeping into everything she did and everything she felt when it came to Kit. She hated the fact that she knew it was happening yet couldn’t seem to stop it however much she told herself that they were fine, that things were going great.

  Because the truth was things weren’t going so great and it was all her fault. As she’d dreaded, she was handling the things that were going on in her head and in her heart really badly. Most of the time she wasn’t handling them at all.

  Kit was trying his best. In addition to the attention he lavished on her and the way he kept her up to date of everything he was doing and everyone he was seeing he kept sitting her down and asking her what was wrong, telling her that he wasn’t going anywhere so she might as well spit it out. But she had the feeling they could have spent a week in the same room with him endlessly attempting to get her to talk and still she wouldn’t have been able to explain.

  She didn’t know what was wrong. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand the emotional distance that was beginning to stretch between the two of them. Didn’t know what to do about it. Didn’t know what would happen if she confronted it. Didn’t want to think about what it might mean for them.

  From time to time she
caught him looking at her. Worriedly, sadly, frequently frustratedly, and she couldn’t blame him because the expression in his eyes reflected how she felt. Their relationship was slowly imploding and she couldn’t seem to do a thing to stop it, and it was breaking her heart.

  By the time Zoe’s hen night came around, Lily was so low, so confused and so adrift that she really wasn’t in the mood for partying. But what could she do? She wasn’t going to back out. What with Zoe’s practically non-existent circle of friends, she and Dan’s sister, Celia, were the only guests, and she wasn’t going to dampen her sister’s happiness with her doubts and unhappiness.

  So as the trio walked down the stairs into the basement lounge bar in Notting Hill, Lily plastered on a smile, and when the waitress asked what they’d like to drink she ordered a margarita.

  Then another.

  And another.

  And then she started enjoying herself.

  Zoe was sparkling like the diamond solitaire that adorned the third finger of her left hand. Celia was wickedly clever and outrageously entertaining. The place was jumping, the tapas-style food delicious and she had a nice buzz. Almost nice enough to forget what a hash she was making of things with Kit.

  ‘Right,’ said Celia, once the waitress had returned with a fresh round of drinks. ‘So I know this is Zoe’s hen night and everything, but to be honest, as that Mr & Mrs quiz thing proved, she’s so besotted by my brother that that story’s boring.’

  ‘Hey,’ protested Zoe.

  ‘Well, it is.’ With a grin Celia turned to Lily. ‘Your relationship on the other hand sounds absolutely fascinating.’

  Lily somehow managed to drum up a smile, but it was hard when despite the uplifting effect of the tequila her spirits plummeted. ‘Fascinating is not the word,’ she said dully.

  ‘Then what is? Awesome? Steaming? Mind-blowing?’

  ‘Technically mind-blowing’s two words,’ said Zoe.

  ‘The word you’re looking for is hopeless,’ said Lily, and to her horror she could feel the backs of her eyes beginning to prickle.