Page 8 of Ghost Note

“I really hate him,” I repeated, like an echo of that statement would somehow make it stronger.

“You sure about that?” A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Screw you, Ben. I can hate you, too, you know.”

“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m impossible to hate.”

“Your arrogance makes it kind of easy to label you as an arsehole.”

“Really? Is thatreallywhat you think?”

“Yes. And half of Hope Cove does, too.”

“Then why are you sitting here with me, eating food you don’t even like, letting me order garlic on everything when you so obviously despise the stuff if I’m such an arrogant arsehole?”

My eyes widened. “If you know I hate it, why do you keep ordering it?”

“Because I see it as some kind of test now. I keep hoping that one day you’ll crack and stand up for yourself. Tell me you hate the stuff. Tell me you’ll never see me again if I keep bringing you here.”

“Why would you want me to be that person?”

“Because then you’d be free.” He tilted his head to one side. “Free to make your own choices, no matter what anyone else thinks, or who you piss off in the end by being who you need to be.”

“Quite the psychologist over there in your plaid shirt and with your slicked-back hair, huh?”

“Just… being me, Daisy.” He shrugged, like nothing I said or did would ever bother him.

“Damn you, Ben Atwood.” I sighed, pushing up to lean over the table again, my eyes cast down into my untouched food. I stayed there for a moment, looking at that pasta like it held the answers to questions I hadn’t even asked myself yet.

“You worried he’s going to come back for the funeral?” Ben asked, and when I looked up, he was taking a sip of his wine again, eyeing me over the rim of the glass.

I shook my head. “He won’t come back.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Danny Silver is a coward who caused too much wreckage around here, and he’s not man enough to come back and handle what we’d all have to say about his actions… or lack thereof.”

“But, what would you say to him… if you could?” he asked, lowering his glass.

“I have no idea.”

“Come on. We’ve all fantasised about putting an ex in their place before. Pretend he’s here, Daisy. Pretend my eyes are his. Look into them, and tell me what you’d say—”

“I’d tell him, thank you,” I said in a rush, cutting him off. “Thank you for showing me who he really was and for walking away.”

“I’m not sure thanking him for hurting you is the right way to go.”

“Why not? He did me a favour. At least now I can find someone to love who will be real with me, and Danny was never real. I was in love with a guy who didn’t even know himself. How can you love a man like that? You’re only loving a ghost—someone who doesn’t exist. So, yeah. I’d sayThank you for leaving.Thank you for breaking my heart. Thank you for not letting me live a lie. And… and then I’d kick his famous arse all the way out of Hope Cove and tell him to never come back.”

Ben studied me, seeking out the lie, before he huffed out a laugh, shook his head, and reached over to scoop up some of my pasta with his fork. “I’ve got to say, I love your fire. There’s nothing quite like heartbreak to turn peaceful girls into the kind of women who will start a riot to show the world they’re okay again.”

“Ben?”

“Yeah?” His eyes shot up to mine.

“Shut your garlic-mouth up.”

Three

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