Page 123 of Unapologetic Love Story

‘Yes, thank you for your input, sir,’ Raina said, tapping her temple.

Pepper cleared her throat and then spoke in a serious and strangely humble tone.

‘As someone who stupidly and selfishly humiliated you recently, Raina, I have to say: it might be unfair to punish the man for having evil friends . . . who he has now cut out. Dex said he was a dead man walking.’

Raina stared. ‘You’re speaking to Dexter?’

Pepper flushed and glanced away. ‘Yeah, I am. And let me tell you, me to you . . . forgiveness – it’s a hell of a thing, Rai. Honest to God.’

‘Is this writer guy the real deal then?’ asked the driver.

‘Like, I didn’t really like this guy from the jump,’ Pepper told the driver, as if they’d been gossip pals for ever. ‘I’ve not liked any of her beaus. But he’s got a fire that the others didn’t have.’

‘How much longer? Maybe I’ll walk,’ Raina said desperately.

‘It’s a tough world to make mistakes in now,’ the driver said despondently. ‘And you know best, miss. You know, deep down, if he’s gone too far. This is a new age – men don’t get to mess you about.’

‘Right on,’ Pepper said, sliding on some sunglasses.

‘But I watch the news, me. Every night. And I get a lot of different people in this cab. Celebrities, working folk, housewives, businessmen and -women. All sorts. With all the terrible things in the papers now, I know one thing all of those different people have in common. No one gets to the end of their life, whenever that is, and thinks I’m so glad I walked away from love. Abuse, pain, terrible stuff – sure. But not love.’

Raina drew in a sharp breath and rolled down the window, letting the air hit her eyes as she screwed them up in a desperate attempt to ward off tears.

‘Are you driving anyone at half past six tonight?’ Pepper asked the cabbie.

‘Not yet, miss.’

‘Good. Can you pick us up from the address we’re going to?’

‘Where you headed?’

Pepper reached across to squeeze her best friend’s arm. Raina smiled wetly at the gesture and then laughed. ‘We’re going to an awards show.’

‘Hi, Solana,’ Tom spoke to Solana’s voicemail because he’d worn out Raina’s. ‘Can you please make sure she eats? She forgets a lot. When she has too much on her mind. And she has so much on her mind. She answers, like, one hundred emails a day on top of her job and . . . and everything else. Please. Just cook her something, anything. Thanks. And sorry. Bye.’

He hung up.

Tom had a lot of calls to make. He kept trying Raina, but the lack of communication was communication in itself. She obviously didn’t want to hear from him. Not a bit of him blamed her. Instead, he wrote a list of names. Tori, Ben, Mirren. He had a whole host of people he needed to contact.

He also had an entirely new piece to write. From scratch. The board was torn down and the document was blank, completely fresh. A page like new-fallen snow just waiting for footprints to give it some direction and a person pushing through the mass to reach something better.

He was about to try his sister again when his landline rang. He leapt across the room to answer it, knowing exactly which voice he wanted to hear on the other end.

‘Tom Branimir?’

It wasn’t her. It was someone with a toffee-nosed accent and an impatient tone.

‘Amanda Nolan.’

The name was vaguely familiar, but Tom didn’t care to network over the phone. ‘Yes?’

‘We met at the London Bridge building Christmas party? Your publishers’?’

‘I’m sure. Can I help you?’

There was a moment of stunned confusion on the other end of the line. ‘I’m calling for comment about Raina Lewis.’

Tom almost broke the phone. ‘What? Why?’