“You’re still you,” he continues. “You can rebuild.”
“But it will take forever,” I whine. “It took years of daily posting.”
“Do you have the old content?”
“No.”
His jaw tightens. “Lizzie said you had a mailing list. Did you download the details of everyone who signed up?”
I drop my head into my hands again. I’d been avoiding thinking about all the things I did wrong, all the stupid mistakes I made, and everything Dad was able to take from me, but being questioned on it makes me realise just how foolish I’ve been. The shame of it is almost unbearable, and my reply to his question comes out so quietly, I can barely hear it myself. “No.”
For an eternity, nothing happens.
Just as I’m wondering if I should show myself out, a large, warm hand cups my shoulder, causing goosebumps to erupt down my arm. I hold my breath.Dear God, please don’t touch me. I can barely hold it together being in the same room as him, but having his hand on me?Hell, no.“Don’t give up. Everyone has to start somewhere.”
His voice is so gentle, so kind, that I want to cry. He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a business card, instructing me to call his accountant and get myself set up as a business.
“And as for the money,” he adds, “I’ll loan you the capital.”
My mouth falls open. “Oh, no. Don’t do that. Haven’t I just proved to you what a waste of space I am? I wouldn’t be surprised if you think I’m completely incompetent.”
One corner of his lips lifts. “It’s not the best start, but the amount you need is small change to me. Lizzie’s very fond of you and seems to think you’re good at what you do. I trust her judgment. Plus, you’re on a short time frame. So yes, I’ll loan you the money.”
My hands fly to my mouth, and I let out an excited squeak behind them, at which his smile widens a fraction.
Lowering my hands, I clamp them between my knees in case I try to hug him, or something worse. “You’ll invest in me?”
“Yes. You can pay me back, interest-free, if it makes you feel better.”
“And if I can’t pay you back?”
“I’ll make sure you can. We’ll go through it together, make a proper plan and get this business off the ground.” He flips open an old school paper diary. “When can you spare me the time?”
Not,when can I fit you in?,butwhen can you spare me the time?
“Oh, anytime. I’ll come any time you want.”
He stills almost imperceptibly at my stammered words, the nib of his pen—a fountain pen no less, maybe even the same one he used to write his phone number on the Delirium card—touching the cream paper of his diary.
Nerves bubble through my insides and spill out in another stupid attempt at clarification. “I’ll come when you ask me to. I’ll come…”Stop talking about coming.“I can come on demand.”
Nice. Rounded it off with a flourish there. Nerves morph to giggles, transmuting without my permission, and I have to bite my lip to keep them in as I shrink into his huge desk chair, wishing it would swallow me up.
He doesn’t look my way, but I know he’s focused on me. Heat prickles up the back of my neck and across my cheeks.
He pushes the diary away without making a mark and straightens. “I’ve got time tonight. I’m out for dinner, but when I get back, I’ll give you half an hour.”
I start nodding too fast, eagerly gathering up my laptop. “Thanks so much, Mr Bastion. This means so much to me.” I trip out of my chair and back up towards the door.
“It’s my pleasure. And please, call me Rafe.”
“Rafe,” I repeat, curling my tongue around his name while holding my laptop tight against my chest, still backing out of the room at near unacceptable speed.
“And Diana?”
I halt, one hand on the door handle. “Yes?”
“If you want to make this work, you mustn’t say things like that. Mustn’t even think them.”
