Page 113 of The Photograph

“Des,” he groans against my lips.

And I haven’t kissed him in so long that I can’t help myself turning it from a lip touch into a full-on smooch. Someone coughs behind me, and I lurch back and run my hand over my hair, dazed as my eyes skip over the glass counter.

“Are you okay?” he says.

I shake my head, sawing in another sharp breath. “You disappeared from the office. Are you mad at me?” I say.Jesus! Of course he is!“I’m sorry I left you sitting there. I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls. I’m sorry about everything.”

He puts his hand on my arm. “Calm down, it’s okay.”

Another deep inhale, and my racing pulse starts to ease. “Why did you come to my work?”

Leaning over, he grabs our coffees and gestures to a seat in the window.

Once we’re settled, my eyes scan over his pale face and the flat line of his full mouth. Oh, God. Is this the conversation where he dumps me for good? That would need a face-to-face, right? Perhaps he’s been trying to do this for days.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting. “That’s never a good start to a conversation, Alex. What happened?”

“I’ve been fired. There might even be an investigation”—he swallows—“by the FBI.”

“Woah! What? The FBI! What the hell for?”

He shakes his head. “The details are all a bit murky, but East River Capital Markets took a position in ForceX.”

“Oh shit! They were in your report. They’ve just filed for bankruptcy.”

He blinks at me. “I mean I wrote that analysis and …”

“But surely they can’t hold you responsible for … My God, it was me who told you to look at them!”

Wrapping his arms around his body, he says, “God knows what East River is going to do. They’re looking for scapegoats, as they always do in these situations. Christ, I hope none of it rebounds on you.” Tears fill his eyes. “They confiscated my phone and my laptop. I had nowhere else to turn. I’m sorry if I’m imposing, you haven’t been answering my calls, and …”

Jesus.I reach over the table and take his hand.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I’m sorry I haven’t called you back.” Cars are streaming over the intersection as I squeeze his fingers. “I saw some pictures on Facebook.”

“Pictures? What pictures?”

“Of you and a girl. Your sister posted them, I think.”

“Amalia?” He slides his hand up his face. “Oh God, now I understand! Hannah said she was my girlfriend or some such nonsense, didn’t she? Shit. Shit.” He tips his head back and grimaces at the ceiling. “Nothing is going on with Amalia, Ipromise you. In fact, it was terrible.” He bites his lip. “I’m not even there anymore.”

“Where?”

“At my parents’ house.”

Shock burns through me. He’s left? “Where are you living?”

“I moved in with Nana.”

“What? When?”

“Yesterday.”

So he was already living there when I went to see his grandma today? Woah! Mrs. S is a crafty old bird: I didn’t think she was hiding something so significant. But I guess she wanted to pump me for information, judge for herself how committed I am to her grandson. “I’ve just been to see her for lunch,” I say.

“What?Why?”

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