Page 158 of Love ad Lib
‘We met at her improv night a couple of years ago,’ he replied. ‘And have been best friends ever since. She may not be able to draw or paint, but she’s an artist in her own right.’
‘Improv?’
‘Yeah, Libby runs a regular night on a Tuesday in Covent Garden and workshops for City firms who need to fulfil their “touchy-feely” quota for the year. That’s how she met Henry. Libby’s a very talented actress.’
The room was deathly quiet, but Lucas had failed to notice the changing mood. Libby’s heart was trying to exit her body through her ribs.
‘Lucas—’ she began.
‘Libby Bennet?’ Willow interrupted.
Lucas frowned. ‘Bennet? No, Fletcher.’ He glanced around the room, then laughed and rolled his eyes. ‘Bennet is just a persona Lib-Lob created for this job. Although—’ He raised his arms, gesturing to her and Henry. ‘As you can see, what was fictitious really has had a happy ending.’
‘Fictitious?’ Arthur asked.
Lucas hesitated and looked around, finally realising he’d brought a bad penny into the room and dropped it.
‘Erm, in the best possible way,’ he continued. ‘Totally above board. Henry had a contract drawn up and everything. I saw it myself. Paid her properly, too. And, erm, happy-ever-after and all that?’
Libby fled.
She made it to the front door before Henry caught her up.
‘Wait!’
She grabbed her bag.
‘Libby!’
She was shaking so hard she could hardly speak. ‘I need to get out of here.’
She didn’t wait to hear his reply, wrenching the door open and running down the drive towards Foxbrooke.
He sprinted after her. ‘Please!’
She didn’t stop running until she was out of sight of the house. Out of breath, she slowed to a fast walk, heading for the high street.
‘Please don’t go. It’s going to be okay. I’ll fix it.’
She ignored him, powering her feet forwards until she got to the bus stop for Bath.
‘Libby,please. Let’s talk about this.’
Every cell in her body wanted to throw up until there was nothing left inside. In all her worst nightmares about how her fake relationship with Henry would play out, none came close to the excruciating horror of what she’d just experienced. The image of his family looking at her was a tableau that would live in her soul forever, the sharp edges scratching and drawing blood, continually reminding her of its presence.
A bus in the distance was moving slowly down the high street towards them.
‘How long were you going to keep lying to me?’ Her voice shook as she struggled to breathe.
‘About what?’
‘Jack’s flat. The money for house-sitting. The cat?’
His face paled. ‘How—’
‘Jack’s never there and is so allergic to cats they make him blind within five minutes.’ She choked back a sob. ‘You’ve been lying to me. Giving me money so that I can watch a “therapy cat” trash his flat.’
‘Yes.’
