Page 32 of Unapologetic Love Story

She watched Raina with barely contained mania. Raina exhaled, knowing how Pepper’s birthday parties tended to escalate into lavish shows of excess, so it really was a fitting theme. She indulged them because a part of her knew it was Pepper’s way of making up for a childhood of birthdays with the nanny, while her parents were nowhere to be seen.

‘Fine,’ she said wearily. ‘I’ll be dressing as a disenfranchised worker with no rights or economic prospects.’

‘Oh, come on, roaring twenties in the new twenties!’

‘Original.’

It would certainly be easier to costume than last year’s theme: Pemberley.

Raina knew how her best friend appeared on paper. Heir to extortionate amounts of money, possibly even unethical amounts of money, with the best education and access that privilege could afford. When she’d first arrived at Pepper’s house as a cleaner, Raina’s inverted snobbery had been very strong and healthy. Yet, meeting Pepper changed those feelings. She was open and warm and a complete tangle of insecurities.

Pepper liked to pretend that she was the strongest person in the room, with the thickest skin and the coolest temper. Raina was the only one who heard her cry some nights.

Raina also knew about the photograph in her bedside drawer. She’d found it there while sleeping next to Pepper one night, when she’d been looking for a charger.

It was Pepper next to a tall, striking man, and she was gazing up at him. Both of them in their early twenties. It was almost a different woman in the photograph. More reserved, but clearly in love.

Raina had asked about him and Pepper had been unusually cagey. She’d snatched the picture away and told Raina not to bring it up again.

‘Want me to help you with invitations again?’ Raina asked innocently.

She always helped Pepper prepare for her soirées, no matter how ridiculous they appeared. Every year, Pepper would write one invitation herself, to someone called Dexter. Raina would watch her take extra care with the lettering and the address on the envelope.

No one with that name had ever come.

‘Yes, please,’ Pepper said in a chirpy voice. ‘Thank you!’

Of course, Raina was pretty convinced that Dexter and the man in the photograph were the same person, and every year she hoped that Pepper’s birthday bash would provide confirmation of this, but it had yet to happen. She instinctively knew not to ask. If Pepper wanted to share, she would. Raina wouldn’t pry.

Maybe this year.

‘I can invite your new writer friend, if you like,’ Pepper said silkily.

Raina threw her a look. ‘I’ll have scared him off by then, Pep.’

‘So, what did he ask you at the pub?’

Raina let herself recall the strange meeting. Her old workplace, where she’d been groped and belittled, was now a place that made her feel free. She often suggested the old pub for a first date. It was familiar, which grounded her. She found meeting new people stressful, so knowing how to get to the meeting place, as well as knowing the menu off by heart, often soothed some of her anxiety.

It was strange that a minor interview with Tom Branimir had felt more like an actual date than any of the other escapades she’d gone through there. She’d undergone the occasional first kiss on those Chesterfields, and yet, stumbling backwards into his arms had stirred more feeling in her than any of those flirtations.

She just needed to remember that everyone appeared friendly and obliging when they wanted something. Being neurodivergent, for her, meant hearing all of the warnings and the clichés about other people, then forgetting all of it while looking into someone’s face.

Maybe there was some evolutionary reason for her discomfort with eye contact. Maybe it came from falling into people too easily. Hearts were happily broken by taking people at their word. So, while Tom Branimir’s eyes said one thing, Raina knew not to trust them.

Her mobile buzzed insistently. Raina moved to check the text, annoyed at herself for hoping it was him.

‘Who is it?’ Pepper asked, seeing Raina’s shoulders stiffen while her face stayed emotionless.

Matt. The ex.

Raina swallowed and turned the phone over, concealing the words on the screen. A simple How have you been? completely out of the blue and seemingly nothing to an objective observer. Four words that gaslit the receiver and erased a history. There was a mild blast of serotonin at seeing the sender’s name, but it was quickly replaced with a queasy pain that came from memories of salty tears and rocking sobs. Of gasping cries and splitting headaches.

‘It’s from Matt,’ she said, unable to supress the wobble in her voice.

Pepper’s face became a mask of coldness. ‘Delete it and block.’

‘Pep, I’m fine.’