‘You up for a beach mini-break?’ Mo asked Netta.
She nodded without hesitation. They’d just walked through fire together and, partly because of Mo, Netta didn’t feel burned. Being separated from him—regardless of the Lorena situation—seemed completely out of the question.
‘Probably not quite the Christmas either of you had in mind,’ said Rhona, ‘but desperate times and all that.’
‘Is this going to be bad for Mo? The Mitch thing?’ asked Netta.
‘I don’t think it’s going to help,’ said Rhona. Her eyes were soft as she looked at Mo. ‘But he’s always been one to stand by the people he loves. Haven’t you, Mo?’
Mo flushed and cleared his throat. ‘He’s a prick.’
Rhona nodded in agreement, her smile loaded. It was obvious she thought there was something bubbling between Netta and Mo. Maybe she didn’t know about Lorena Long, because there was no way anyone would think Netta could compete with that.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
MO
Netta and Mo had been strangely silent since they’d left Rhona’s. Nobody had mentioned the elephant in the car. Neither of them had even looked sideways at it. It had been almost two hours of hush punctuated only by the occasional awkward observation about something or other they’d driven past, any real conversation gagged by a tangible feeling of limbo. It was like that moment at the top of a Ferris wheel, swinging back and forth before the inevitable descent, half feeling like maybe you’ll plummet to your death and half like you could stay up there forever and just forget the ground, and all its real-world problems, even existed.
Social media had exploded with videos and photos of the Mitch incident only moments after they’d made their getaway in the limo. Mo didn’t resent being caught up in it, though. Not for a second. Netta hadn’t deserved the years of pain she’d lived with at the hands of Mitch cockhead Carlton, and she’d been magnificent. Someone with her history could justifiably have crumbled in that situation, frozen into submission by Mitch’s beady fucking stare, but she’d been strong. Classy.
Regardless, he knew it wasn’t a good look for him to have been involved. Hisopticswere currently subterranean, he guessed. ‘Maybe I should call Mav and tell him I’m not going to be around for Christmas,’ he said, as much to himself as to Netta, just to break the silence.
Netta shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat and groaned. ‘I’m so sorry for getting you caught up in all my rubbish.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said, glancing sideways at her. ‘I’m glad you had a chance to confront him. You did great.’
‘It’s not just tonight, though, is it? There’s a very clear chain of events that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t come to the UK. You wouldn’t be in this media mess or missing Christmas with your brother.’
Mo shook his head, relieved the quiet had finally been shattered. ‘I was already on the downward slope before you came,’ he said. ‘If it wasn’t this, they’d have found something else. It’s just my turn. This is how it works.’
‘Yeah, but …’
‘It’s really not your fault,’ he said. ‘I could’ve just told you to post the diary. And if anyone should feel bad about anything, it’s me. If I hadn’t asked you to come to London, then your history with Mitch would’ve stayed in its grave.’
Mo could still feel the warmth of Netta’s hand on his jaw, the pressure of her lips on his. That kiss was as permanent as any of his tattoos.
Netta took a moment before she spoke again. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this,’ she said, ‘but I’m actually glad it was exhumed. I didn’t stand up for myself back then, and all these years since, I’ve let the memory of him have so much power over me. And now, after tonight, something’s different. I feel, I don’t know,freeor something. I want to go back in time and hug my twenty-year-old self. Tell her to let go of it all, then and there, so she can feel the way I do right now without having to wait so long. Does that sound crazy?’
‘No. I just wish you hadn’t had to wear it for nearly twenty years.’ Mo’s fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, fighting the urge to reach over and take her hand. The kiss— Fucking hell,that kiss. He was unravelled.
‘It’s getting pretty late. Maybe you should call Mav.’
Mo nodded and passed her his phone. ‘The code’s one nine oh four six three,’ he said. ‘Can you call him and put him on speaker?’
Netta scrolled through Mo’s contacts and hit call when she found Mav’s name.
‘Bro!’ Mav shouted over background din. ‘Fucking hell, man. I was just about to call you. Someone just showed me a video of you and Netta with that old guy at the gala.’
Mo cleared his throat. ‘Yeah, that’s what I’m calling about, actually. It’s a bit of a mess. Rhona’s sent me packing for a couple of nights so I’m not going to be around for Christmas. I’m sorry, mate.’
There was a pause at Mav’s end of the phone line. ‘Are you, ah, with Netta, by any chance? I saw some red carpet photos on Insta that—’
‘Yep,’ hurried Mo. ‘And you’re on speaker.’ His tone was pointed enough for even Mav to pick up on. He hoped.
‘I see.’
Mo could hear Mav’s smile. Little shit.
