Page 192 of The Stranger

P.S. I remember the rosemary with a special fondness.

Something inside me gives a throb as I remember again. The herb garden. Those tight pants and the crunch of gravel under his riding boots.

“You still with me?”

“Hm?” I snap back to the moment, and the café. “Yeah, of course I’m still here.”

“In body, at least.” Her gaze narrows as though she knows. “Why do you think he turned up at the hospital, then… nothing?”

“Because I told him to get fucked. Things ended really badly between us.”

“Things usually do,” she says, stirring her virgin mojito with her straw.

“Then why did you suggest I sleep with him?” I demand.

“Inside voice,” Lavender trills.

My shoulders stiffen, though I refuse to acknowledge my emotional outburst. Or any looks I might’ve drawn to the table.

“I suggested it because I thought you deserved a little fun. And because I thought he’d break your dry spell, not your heart.”

“He didn’t—” I halt. “You’re right.” I sigh. “Declarations were made. For what they were worth.”

“Love?”

I nod.

“You or him?” My sister’s elegant brows almost climb to the top of her head.

“Both. Only, one of us didn’t want to be heard. And maybe one of us shouldn’t have been listening.”

Her nose scrunches again. “What in the name or arse did you just say?”

“He told me he loved me in French.”

“But—”

“I know I speak French. I just didn’t tell him that.”

Lavender sits back in her chair. “Bloody hell. This is some K-Drama shit. And I am here for it.”

“I’m pleased my life is amusing you.”

“Oh, it is. Immensely. I’ll tell you something else too. It’s warming the cockles of my cold, cold heart to know that I’m not the only Whittington to have found love on the messy path.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Me and Raif,” she says to the tune of duh!

“Only, Raif married you. And he married you quickly.” Meanwhile, the man I love tried to manipulate me into screwing someone else. Only, that’s not true. He tried to frighten me. To make me run. I’m sure that’s what he thought I’d do. Idiot.

“You don’t know the half of it. Raif is… he’s as sly as a fox and I wouldn’t traumatize you with our origin story because then you might have to kill him. And I kind of like having him around.”

“I wouldn’t kill Raif. I like him.”

“I know you do but, if you knew what went on between us, you’d want to off him. I know you would, little miss sweet and innocent my arse,” she mutters. “But like I said, I love my husband, so no giving him Ebola on the quiet, m’kay?”

“I don’t know about Ebola, but I can give him compression socks.”