Page 127 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘Miller’s got man flu, so he’s crook,’ Cal explains on screen to the older female presenters, who all seem to fawn over his Aussie charm. ‘Aidey’s got a family emergency. I promise you, as a band, we are not breaking up.’

Cal goes on to keep the audience amused, J.B. burying his head at one point, his French accent like melted chocolate when he says, ‘This is the level of sophistication I have to deal with.’ Ravi has everyone laughing at tales from their world tour, answering all the presenters’ questions with panache.

When the segment is over, I send Duncan a message.Is that true about Aidan?

Duncan replies,Must be. He isn’t here today. No sign of Miller either. Or Ziggy.

I switch off the TV, wondering what to do with the remainder of my day, feeling at a distinct loose end.

I’m staring at the contents of my open fridge when the door buzzer sounds.

I press the intercom. ‘Hello?’

‘Lexi,’ a familiar American voice says. ‘It’s Bodhi.’

‘Bodhi?’ I echo in surprise, picturing the security guard’s kind face, for a moment wondering if I have the right person.

‘Would you mind coming downstairs, please?’

‘Sure, of course,’ I say.

I feel my heart racing all the way to the ground floor. Aidan hasn’t appeared on the talk show. Maybe he’s had other ideas. Maybe he wants to talk.

I open the main door to the building, to find Bodhi grinning at me. On the other side of the street, an unmarked black van is parked.

‘Hey, Lex, how ya doing?’

‘I’m good,’ I respond, giving him a hug. ‘How are you? This is unexpected.’

‘I got someone here to see you.’

My gaze transfers to the van, my stomach flipping over several times in a row, wishing I’d put on a layer of make-up before making my way downstairs.

Except Bodhi says, ‘Miller wants to talk to you.’

Chapter Thirty-Five

Disappointment surges in my veins. When the back of the van opens, Miller gets out. He’s wearing blue jeans, a black and blue plaid shirt, brown boots and a cap pulled down over his face, hands thrust in his pockets. Keeping his head down, he walks directly into my building without looking my way. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, or remind him that there isn’t a single paparazzi camera present, so he doesn’t have to lurk around like some uber-famous pop star.

‘Are you coming in too?’ I ask Bodhi.

‘Nah, that’s okay, I’ll wait down here.’

I close the door, my mind reeling as I climb the stairs. Miller follows me to my flat.

‘Hi, Miller,’ I say stiffly, when the door is closed and we’re alone. ‘How are you?’

He reaches up, removing his hat. When he turns, I gasp at the gash in his lip, his right eye swollen with a bruise the shade of deep purple.

‘Oh god,’ I breathe. ‘What happened to you?’

‘Oh, believe me, it’s better than it was,’ he says, trying to sound cheerful, but it comes off as awkward.

‘Would you like an ice pack?’ I ask.

‘I’m okay,’ he says. ‘Got any cola?’

‘Sure,’ I say, walking over to the fridge. ‘Sit down if you like.’

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