‘I think he’s probably the only person who does. Well, and me, and guess what, I love you. You fought for ages to keep me the hell away, but eventually you let me in, and look at us now!’ She patted my leg. ‘Thick as thieves in the night. And even catching thieves in the night together.’ Her hand moved to my shoulder, giving it what felt like a very maternal squeeze. ‘Just let him in.’
My stomach tightened. ‘I’m scared.’
‘Were you scared to letmein?’
‘I’ve never really been that good at friendship.’
‘Mmm, you weren’t in the beginning, but you’re improving. I’d rate you a solid seven out of ten now.’
‘Do you miss him?’ She knew immediately what I was referring to.
‘Every single second of every single minute of every single day.’ Her voice was soft, laced with pain. ‘But if I’d walked away because I was scared, then I wouldn’t have ever known what real love was like, would I?’
‘You loved him so much and he died. Was it worth it?’
Philly glanced up at the wall, to the portrait of Lou that was hanging there. ‘I would do it all over again, even knowing the pain I would feel when he died. Lizzy, I believe you only get one love like that. One true, great love, and I know it’s terrifying sometimes, but you have to pull on your big-girl panties now. Because it’s worth it. So, so worth it.’
I looked at her for the longest time, and then I stood up and nodded. ‘Thanks for that.’
‘Any time, but preferably not at two in the morning again. I need my beauty sleep.’
I walked towards the front door, feeling a little less off balance but still not one hundred per cent upright either.
‘Night,’ I called over my shoulder.
I walked back down the passage to my own apartment, slipped the key into the lock and turned it. But the second I stepped inside, I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. It was something in the air. Something fundamental had shifted, I just didn’t know what, because looking around, nothing had changed. Everything looked exactly the same.
The corner of the carpet had turned up, as it always did, no matter how hard I tried to keep it down. The couch was still a mess of scatter cushions and the pizza box was on the coffee table. Half-drunk beers, and an olive on the floor. I looked towards the kitchen, scanning the counter tops to see if anything was out of place there. It was not. My car keys were still in the chipped bowl I kept them in, and the salt, pepper and chilli were in the same strange spot I’d moved them to earlier. Everything was the same, but something felt very different.
My heart started beating rapidly in my chest. It was as if it was telling me something, sending me anSOSin Morse code. And that was when my logical brain turned off and instinct took over. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find to use as a weapon: the old brass lamp with a cracked base that I’d been meaning to toss out for literally years. I was really happy now that I hadn’t. It would do for now, but what I really needed was my gun. Except my gun was in the safe in my bedroom.
I needed to get it. What if I had a Mafia hit man in my apartment, pissed off about the Blade and looking for revenge? An Angolan diamond dealer? For all I knew, Agent Russo had come to exact revenge on me because I didn’t appreciate late cubism. I crossed the floor as silently as I could. I’d kicked my shoes off at the door and was now sliding along in my socks. I held the lamp in the air, ready to knock the intruder’s head off, as I moved from room to room, clearing each one as I went.
Kitchen: cleared.
Living room: cleared.
Spare room: cleared.
Only one room left now, and that was my bedroom. I approached it slowly, every muscle in my body ready to spring into action at a split second’s notice. I edged the door open with the very tip of my toe and tried to peer into the blackness beyond. But I couldn’t see a thing, and I needed to see. I pushed the door open further and then, as silently as I could, slipped inside.
My safe was behind the bookshelf and all I needed to do was get there. But as I stepped forward, it happened. An arm wrapped around my neck and I was pulled backwards. My back hit something solid, and in the shock of it all, I dropped the lamp. I swung backwards with my elbow, trying to hit whoever was behind me, but they caught my arm mid-air. As if they’d expected that exact move—
Wait, there was only one person in the world who could predict my movements like this.
‘Who was that guy?’
‘Cam! What the hell are you doing?’ I wriggled, trying to break free of his grip, but he only tightened it.
‘Told you I’d come after you. Told you I’d fight for you,’ he said, and I let out a breathy chuckle.
‘His name is Byron. Why . . . are you jealous?’ I asked, playing along now.
‘Not at all. Shame, that poor guy. He was a wreck when he left your apartment. Crying like a baby.’
‘He was crying?’
‘What did you do to him, Lizzy? Did you break his poor little heart?’
