Page 56 of Best Mistake Ever
The mere thought of that makes my heart sink.
I’d got so excited about the idea of developing the hotel with Bea, but that’s never going to happen now. I can’t be around someone I can’t trust.
Her face flashes into my mind and all the air leaves my lungs, as if someone’s just elbowed me in the ribs.
I get now why Bea stopped me kissing her after we performed together – the memory of that night now takes on a very different significance in my mind – but why did she then kiss me at the lake? And why go to the trouble of going with me to the rival boutique hotel? What did she have to gain from that?
My thoughts are a mess.
The paranoia is back in full force and I jab angrily at the buzzer for her top floor flat.
The thing is, it doesn’t matter now. I don’t care any more.
I’m done with her and her games.
Her and her bloody sister.
The door buzzes and clicks open and I step inside and quickly climb all the stairs to the real Dee’s flat, taking them two at a time. Now I’m here, I just want to get this over with.
It’s right at the top though and I’m out of breath by the time I get there so I take a moment before knocking on the door, waiting for my heart rate to slow so I don’t just pant at her when she opens up.
Steeling myself, I raise my fist and bang three times, feeling the flimsy wood shake under my knuckles.
Then I wait impatiently for her to come to the door, my foot tapping a rhythm on the worn carpet.
I have a sudden moment of panic. What am I actually going to say to her? She already knows she’s fired, I’m sure. Bea must have told her by now. But I need to stay completely professional about this. I can’t give her any reason to come back at me legally.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be doing this after drinking.
But it’s too late; the door is already swinging open.
I stare at the woman standing in front of me. Her eyes are wide with surprise, as if she’s totally floored to see me. She’s clearly not brushed her hair today because it’s sticking up in messy waves around her head. There’s no make-up on her face either and there are dark rings under her eyes, as if she’s not slept.
Her brows knit together and she opens her mouth, then closes it again, seemingly lost for words.
I just stand there and gaze at her. Despite her dishevelled state – or perhaps because of it – she’s never looked more beautiful and the whole of my insides seem to heat with a fiery need that I’ve become accustomed to feeling whenever I’m around her.
Her familiar sweet scent hits my senses and instinctively, I draw it in through my nose, pulling it down deep into my lungs.
‘Hi Bea,’ I say. Because I know without a doubt – without a single ounce of uncertainty – that this isn’t Delilah. There’s something deep down in my bones that tells me that. The chemistry between us is totally different.
I’ve always been aware that Dee’s attractive, but I never felt the way I did when I was around Bea. Something in me just knew they were different people.
I guess I’ve been aware of that in the back of my mind, but I’ve not wanted to fully admit it to myself.
And that my life changed course the day Bea walked into it.
‘Hi,’ she says, in a rough-sounding voice, as if she’s been crying all night.
Has she?
I push away the thump of concern. It shouldn’t matter to me whether she’s upset or not. It’s not my problem.
‘I came to see Delilah,’ I say, keeping my voice as unemotional as I can in the face of this setback.
‘She’s not here. We swapped apartments because of her ankle.’
‘I see.’
