Page 77 of Wanting Mr Black

I don’t blame you for running. You should have done it sooner because I deserved it. You leaving was the wake-up call I needed. Some of the things I said to you … and did to you … are unforgivable, and every day, I wish I could turn back the clock and erase what I did.

I’ve been dry for two years and six months. I’ve talked to professionals who have helped me with my issues. I know I scared you and hurt you, emotionally and physically, andthere’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret how I treated you.

I met someone else, a good woman, and tried to move on, but it didn’t work out because you’re still stuck in my head. You’re the only woman I’ve ever truly loved, and I have to live with the memories of what I did to you every day. My biggest regret is that I didn’t realise how special you were to me when we were together.

I’d like to see you. To apologise properly for everything I put you through. I know I don’t deserve it, but after you went, I feel as though everything was left up in the air. We didn’t have that one final argument that ended everything, did we? We didn’t air our views and get everything off our chests. We just faded into grey and fizzled out.

I don’t ask for much of your time. Half an hour is all. I’ve things I’d like to say to you, and I’m very sure you have things you’d like to say to me. My numbers on the back of the letter. Please call me.

Theo x

The letter slips from my grasp and floats down onto the marble countertop. I lift my eyes to the Turner print that hangs on the hall wall, and my mind drifts to Dad. My happy childhood memories. The places I always travelled in my mind during the darkest times with Theo. The letter is a perfect example of my memory of him. Outwardly honourable and decent and full of good intentions but dangerously persuasive and manipulative once you read between the lines.

I glare at the letter as though it were a ticking time bomb, angry with the unfairness of it all. I’m finally happy, and my past has come back to bite me. A past which Art doesn’t know everything about.

We split up three years ago.Why has he sent me this now?

I briefly close my eyes as another startling thought hits me, making my stomach turn with nausea. Theo has been in the building.How does he know where I live?

The knock on the door to the apartment makes me jump, and I’m immediately on edge. I’m thrown back to the days after we first split up – when I would live in fear of him turning up and every knock on the door and car engine outside turned me into a nervous wreck.

You’re not the same person anymore.

You’re not that Sophie.

I take a deep, steadying breath in and ball my hands into fists to stop them from trembling as I slowly walk towards the door.

It’s not him, I chant repeatedly to myself as I peer through the peephole.

Big Steve fills the landing, and I let out a long sigh of relief at the sight of him.

He flashes me a bright white smile as I open the door. “Hi, Sophie. Is he in?”

I frown and shake my head to clear my anxious thoughts. “Erm … no. He went to the club about an hour ago.

His auburn eyebrows, bleached blond by the sun, meet in the middle. “No, he can’t have. I’ve only just come from there. It’s the club I need to speak to him about.”

Art definitely said he was going to the club. Didn’t he?

Doubt burrows a hole in my head, and my anxiety from moments earlier has been replaced with uneasiness at how the situation is unfolding. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Have you tried calling him?”

“Yeah, his phone just keeps ringing out.” Big Steve rubs a hand over the top of his bald head and looks perplexed. “Which I thought was a bit odd.”

Art definitely took it with him, and it’s permanently glued to his hand.

Now, I’m officially suspicious. The tension, the furrowed brow, and distracted looks, I’ve seen it all before.

Big Steve’s hefty shoulders heave into a shrug beneath his black T-shirt, oblivious to the feeling of impending doom that’s gripped me. “Not to worry. If you see him, tell him to call me. See ya, Soph.” He turns and disappears down the landing.

I spin on my heel, stalking back into the apartment, and snatch my car keys from the hall table.

See him? I’ll do more than that.

I’m going to find him.

Thirty-Nine

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