Page 117 of When We Were Young

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

She let out a long exhale. ‘It kind of is.’

‘Milly,’ he said, his tone serious. ‘It absolutely is not.’

She gave a tiny shrug and went back to her book.

He closed his eyes and tried to visualise their future. Try as he might, he couldn’t shoehorn this Malibu mansion life into their life back in London. His schedule was relentless. It was like being on a rollercoaster with no way of getting off. And she had her course to get back to. Red Rocks had been the single best experience of his life and this past week with Emily had been idyllic, but now he was crashing down from that high and she hadn’t even left yet. Soon she’d be on the other side of the world. Literally as far away as it was possible to get.

He opened his eyes and squinted in her direction. She lay stretched out along the lounger with the pool throwing watery reflections on her tanned skin. He wished he could pause this moment and stay here forever.

Chapter 53

June 2016

Liv

I’m worried Chloe will look ill, but when I go into her hospital room, she looks the same as always – if you ignore the dark circles under her eyes, the ugly gown, and the grumpy expression on her face. She’s still angry with me.

‘Hey,’ I say.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Your mum asked if I would visit. I’m sorry, I thought you knew.’

‘So you’re not here becauseyouwanted to visit?’

‘Of course I am. I got here as soon as I could. I’ve been worried about you.’

She says nothing. A bag of clear liquid dangles above her, connected to her arm by a tube.

‘How are you?’ I ask.

‘What do you care?’

‘Chloe, I care––’

‘How was Beatland?’ She says it in a nasty sarcastic voice that doesn’t sound like Chloe.

‘You heard about that?’

‘I heard you told your parents you were staying at mine when you went off for the weekend with your boyfriend.’ She gives me an intense, cold stare, then looks away.

‘He’s not my boyfriend, and it wasn’t just Nathan – it was a group of us.’

She shakes her head slowly. ‘Youusedme.’

‘No, I––’

‘Why didn’t you invite me?’

‘To Beatland?’ I ask, buying time to think of an answer. ‘A spare ticket came up at the last minute – there was only one, otherwise I would have.’

She picks up the book resting on her lap and starts reading, so I sit on the chair by her bed.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Nathan… and Beatland,’ I say, but she carries on reading. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you got ill.’