Page 47 of The Couple Behind the Headlines

Jack tilted his head and smiled, her enthusiasm infectious even though he had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Got in where?’

‘University.’

He went still, for a moment stunned into speechlessness, all thoughts of sharing his news spectacularly derailed. What? University? She was going to university? ‘I didn’t know you’d applied,’ he said, the realisation she hadn’t told him stinging so badly that he was totally taken aback.

‘No, well, I didn’t tell anyone.’

‘No one?’

‘Not a soul.’

Oh. Well, that wasn’t so bad, then. But still … ‘Why not?’

She gave him a look that suggested she was surprised he even had to ask. ‘You know what the press is like. They’d have mocked me, ripped me to shreds, given me hell. And imagine what they’d have said if I hadn’t got in.’

Jack thought of all the stories he’d read and heard about her and decided that she was undeniably right. Again. ‘So who knows you’ve been accepted?’

Imogen blinked. ‘No one yet. Well, apart from you now.’

Something warm unfurled in the pit of his stomach at that. ‘What are you going to study?’

‘Behavioural Economics.’

‘How long’s the course?’

‘Three years. And when I finish I’m going to wave my bit of paper at the board of the trust and make them give me a job where I can really make a difference.’

‘It sounds like you’ve got it all mapped out.’

She nodded. ‘For once.’

Jack grinned. He was delighted for her. And weirdly proud. She might not have said as much in so many words, but he’d got the impression lately that she rather regretted her misspent, frivolous youth. ‘Congratulations.’ He held up his glass and she clinked hers against it.

‘Thank you.’

‘So where are you heading?’ If she wasn’t staying in London, then, wherever it was, they should be able to make it work somehow. They’d both be busy during the weeks, but there were always weekends … And long, long holidays …

Her eyes shone and he could feel the excitement vibrating through her. ‘America. New York, to be precise.’

And just like that, Jack felt as if someone had socked him in the solar plexus. His head went fuzzy and his heart rate slowed right down. All the blood that had been surging through his veins shot to his feet and for a moment he thought his legs were about to give way.

‘Well, that is worth celebrating,’ he said, his voice sounding as if it came from far far away.

‘Isn’t it?’ She beamed and took a mouthful of champagne, completely unaware her words were smashing all those achingly fragile fledgling hopes of his to smithereens. Because while London would have been perfect, the UK doable, the States was impossible.

‘When do you leave?’

‘August. To give me time to settle in and things.’

As something in his chest tightened Jack turned his back on her before his expression of careful neutrality cracked, and dropped a handful of linguine into the pan of boiling water.

‘I see,’ he muttered.

And he did, because it was blindingly clear. There he’d been, tentatively thinking he might like something more with her, and all along Imogen had been making plans to leave.

Wishing he could kick himself, Jack felt a strange kind of numbness seep through him. How the hell could he have been such a fool? How could he have ignored the one rule he’d sworn to live by, and made the disastrous mistake of confusing sex and emotion?

And what on earth made him think he was entitled to even a sliver of happiness anyway? Had he learned nothing from the past? He’d been nuts to even allow himself to go there.

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