“Not if it’s done right. You’ll keep part of the place private though, right?”
“What for?”
“For you. Eve. And maybe later, a few little Olivers and Eves.” He mimes the pitter-patter of little feet with his fingers.Arse.“Imagine living in that place.”
And I do—just for a moment. A moment of bliss. Bliss that’s short lived.
I used her for my own means. For revenge. I’m no better than Atherton, though it took me a while to admit that to myself. Aren’t I still using her now? Stringing her along, knowing I’m incapable of love?Unworthy ofherlove?
“You okay?”
“No. I don’t feel too well.” When this is all over, I probably won’t ever want to look at Northaby again.
“What is it?”
“I think I’m coming down with something.” I suck in a deep breath. “My chest hurts.” I can’t be having a heart attack at my age.Can I?
“You were okay a minute ago.”
“And now I’m not,” I snap. I don’t remember the last time I felt unwell. I have the constitution of an ox—I’m never ill.
“Your chest, huh?”
“Yes.” I rub my sternum with my knuckles. “Whatisthat sensation? I feel like something has burrowed into it.”
“Into your heart?” The corner of his mouth kicks up. “It’s not—gasp! Horror!—love?”
“The heart is not some mythical vessel—it’s a muscle! What are you laughing about? I might be having a heart attack!Oof. Fuck.” And now, I suddenly feel short of breath.
“Haven’t you ever heard the song ‘Love Hurts’?”
“Yes, and I’ve also heard the song ‘I Do Like to Be Beside the Seaside,’ but I’m not sure what that’s got to do with anything.”
“You should just admit it. Works for me. Eve is cool. She keeps you on your toes, and you need that.”
“Admit what? That we’re enjoying ourselves? That one minute, we’re at each other’s throats like cat and dog, and the next—”
“You’re the same species?”
“We are completely unsuited. She’s ethical, good, and kind. She’s a vet, for fuck’s sake! She fixes things, while I tear them apart.”
“For money.”
“Which she has no interest in. She deserves better than me.”
“Huh.” He brings his hand to his chin, stroking it pensively. “Don’t you think that’s a question for Eve?”
“What is that?” I circle a finger, indicating his face. “Are you playing at therapist? Because you can fuck right off! I don’t even want a safari park.”
“So why have you been chasing it?”
I usually have an immediate answer, but right now, it’s like that answer no longer makes sense.
“People have done worse for love.”
I’m not sure I like what he’s implying, even if it does strike a chord.
“You know, Van Gogh chopped off his ear.”
