Page 65 of An Unexpected Kind of Love

My fingers hover over Blake’s number, but no. I can’t. Instead, I call Lily. She’s probably busy. She’s always busy. It’ll go straight to messages and that’s fine, because who rings rather than texts?

Of course she answers after the third ring. I can hear her frown on the phone. “Aubrey. What’s wrong? I thought you were still away.”

“Level five emergency.” I crunch a nut to punctuate my unhappiness, a sacrificial almond.

“Obviously, because you’re calling. Hang on. Let me get back to my office.”

Right, work. Of course she’s working. Selfishly, I didn’t even think about that, that she might be doing legitimate things rather than waiting to field my drama. And it hits me that I’m calling to unload like Eli did to me, except with two important differences: one, it’s not 3:00 a.m., and two, Lily and I haven’t ever been in a romantic relationship.

“Sorry, Lil. I’m calling at a bad time.”

“Nonsense. They have to wait for me anyway, and there’s enough going on for them to do without me there for a few minutes. The show install is going as well as can be expected.”

“That’s good.” I can only imagine Lily behind the scenes at her art gallery, calling the shots while people shuffle the art around to her specifications. “This isn’t the Spain stuff, is it?”

“No, no. That’s still in development. This is all about the influence of street art and punk rock in fashion. Very Alexander McQueen, plenty of skulls. Goth rating, ten out of ten.”

Despite myself, my lips twist into a smile. “I didn’t realize you were gothic, Lil.”

“Want to come to the private view next week? Might cheer you up.”

I hardly feel festive. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“I’m back in my office now. Tell me everything. What’s wrong?”

A groan escapes me. “It’s stupid.”

“Let’s not make me drag things out of you again. I do need to get back before too long.”

“Right, sorry. Well, Blake and I went away like I texted you. And we were having a great time hillwalking and relaxing in pubs. Till Eli called me in the middle of the night, having a crisis.”

I hear Lily sucking back air. “Hewhat?”Then a sharp exhale. “The jealous arsehole.”

“No, no. He doesn’t know about Blake. I haven’t told him.”

“You haven’t told him?” she asks, incredulity in her voice. “Why not?”

Isn’t that the question? “I don’t know. Because this is so new? I mean, not telling Eli about him is part of the problem.” I sigh. “Eli went on and on, upset after a fight with Ryan, with the punchline being that their fight was ultimately about me.”

If I was there, I could imagine her wide-eyed gawp. Instead, I hear clicking. Probably some rapid-fire pen fidgeting, knowing her.

“You still there?” I ask.

“I’m so mad at Eli!” she explodes. “Why doesn’t he deal with his own shit rather than bothering you in the middle of the night? Are yousurehe doesn’t know?”

“Mm, I didn’t say anything and God knows I’ve kept Blake a secret from Gemma because I would never hear the end of it, which is easy enough because the shop’s been a tip since the filming, and she hasn’t been in. But Eli did stop by the day that Blake sent me an incredible bouquet of flowers, and then Blake came in. They met…somewhat. So, maybe on some level he knows something’s up.”

“I would dearly love to give the man a swift kick in the ankle. I mean, I would never actually do it, but I can’t believe it,” Lily moans. “Level five indeed.”

“Then, I fucked things up even worse by not telling Blake about it, because I thought he slept through the call, but he must have heard at least part of it. And he brought it up the next day. And one thing led to another. I, er, didn’t tell Eli about Blake and now Blake’s upset. Course, he hasn’t told anyone about me, like I’m some guilty secret. Which, fair, I’m nobody on the celebrity scale.Andhis filming wraps next week, and then he goes back to America and his regular life, and all of this is for nothing, anyway, right? To make things even worse, he has an audition in L.A. like right now and it’s even worse than I thought, because he’s leaving tonight. For a couple of days. So, he won’t be back for long and then he’s gone for good. So, you see, everything’s ruined.” I’m breathless from my monologue.

Silence. More pen clicking follows.

Meanwhile, I chew my lip as we pull into the next station. There’s an announcement over the speakers, and through the mutterings of passengers, I can hear that the train is abruptly terminating service. And that we all need to wait for the next one. Nothing can be straightforward, can it? Not trains, not men.

“Sorry, this train’s given up the ghost, I’m afraid. Bear with me while I get onto the platform.”

And I do and she does. At least there’s a bit of shelter from the rain. I go into the cramped waiting room, with its foggy windows from the muggy day. The clouds are low and gray outside, like a storm threatens but hasn’t delivered yet.

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