Page 122 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

‘I’m driving,’ he says. I’m not about to argue.

Agnes is leading Lauren to her car but Lauren stops and pulls away.

‘Wait,’ she says. ‘I need a moment.’

Agnes nods and steps back to stand near Antoinette. She places a hand on her arm and my sister leans into her.

We watch as Lauren walks back towards the cabin, to the place where the man she thought she loved will rest forever. She takes something out of her pocket and stares at it for a few moments.

And then a small flame flickers in the barely there morning light.

A lighter.

She crouches down and picks something up off the dry desert floor and holds the flame to it before flinging it into the wooden cabin.

The tiny flame takes hold and then the wind catches it too and, in a heartbeat, the whole place is engulfed in fire.

Lauren watches it for a few moments. Then she turns her back on it and walks towards us, flames billowing behind her, as the cabin burns and burns.

‘Can we go home now, please?’ she says.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘We can.’

65

Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles

Charlie wakes me up several hours later with breakfast in bed, including avocado on toast, coffee and – the best thing – my iPad with the Flightscanner app open.

‘You,’ I say to him, ‘are the best man that has ever existed.’

He laughs. ‘Thank you. Although I suspect the bar is low.’

I kiss him on the cheek. ‘It’s on the floor of the basement in hell. But I think you single-handedly raise it up a few notches.’

‘I know you’re keen to get home,’ he says.

And I am.

I so am.

I want to get back to London.

I want to get back to my apartment.

I miss everything about it.

I want to get back to Tor and help her on her healing journey.

I want to see Maisie and put my hands on her swollen belly, feel those tiny babies kicking her from the inside.

I want to get back to my life. My life with Charlie.

‘What happens when we get back?’ I ask him as I take a big bite of my breakfast. ‘With us? Where are you going to go?’

Before we went to Cannes earlier this year, Charlie was living with me in my Chelsea apartment. I loved everything about co-habiting. Eventually. It took me a little while to get used to sharing every aspect of my life with someone else. Well, almost every aspect. Keeping my nocturnal activities hidden from my live-in boyfriend had proven quite challenging. I look at Charlie now and I honestly don’t think he’s ever looked more handsome. The morning sun is peeping through the blinds and making the golden bits in his hair shine. He smiles and I reach out and touch his face. I loved waking up to his face every single day and I want to go back to that. I want to live with him again, this time with no secrets. But Charlie moved back into his flat in Clapham Junction when we split up. Maybe he’s going to want to take things slowly.

I really hope he doesn’t.