Page 49 of Unapologetic Love Story

‘So, when did you start writing?’

‘Well . . .’ He shifted himself upon the stack of beer crates. ‘I got a reputation for being snarky on social media quite quickly. Got the odd editor in my inbox after the blue tick arrived. Back when those were given out on merit.’

Tom hesitated, wondering if he wanted to continue the story. He’d never spoken about it with anyone.

‘Then my mum got very ill. Cancer.’

He waited for the inevitable ‘I’m sorry’, but it never came. Raina’s expression was serious but she was leaving space for him to carry on speaking.

‘She deteriorated quite quickly. Dad did, too. They hid the worst of it from me; they needed me to stay in London. Work was going well, and they didn’t want to see me stumble.’

Tom remembered those days as one long montage. Barely sleeping, just working, while living some sadistic auto-pilot way of life. Too busy to question why his family called less and less, and why Mirren often cried when he got in touch with her. He cancelled three trips home at their indignant insistence.

Then his father had called late one night and asked if he could make it home on the sleeper.

‘She died in our living room,’ he said. He touched the air above the ice, feeling its chill. ‘Grief . . . it turns you into an animal. Makes you crawl. And howl. You realize how civilized you once were. Because grief cuts that part out of you. And it’s hard to stitch it back in again. Everyone can sort of . . . still smell it on you.’

Again, he waited for Raina to say something hurried. To force away the silence with some rehearsed words of sympathy. Instead, she scooped up two large cubes of ice, handing one to him.

‘What was her name?’

Tom stared at the ice in his warm hand, letting it start to melt against the heat of his palm. ‘Linda.’

Raina clinked his ice cube with her own. ‘To Linda.’

They sat looking at one another, atop beer crates, holding ice cubes.

Tom felt the rest of the world melt away, like the frozen water in his hands.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Raina hated herself for what she was feeling. Sitting across from the man who was potentially writing a hit piece about her, but wanting to wrap her arms around him. She flexed and pointed her bare feet, being careful not to touch the damp stone floor. Having Tom Branimir open up about such a wound, it was like catnip to Raina.

‘Is that why you went so hard on that piece?’ she asked carefully. ‘The woman telling people they could cure cancer with oils and vibes?’

He squeezed his ice cube and shrugged. ‘Possibly.’

‘It all makes sense now,’ she said gently. ‘Your articles are amazing. But you take it all so personally. As if you’re the one they were trying to scam. But I get it now. You’ve seen the other side.’

He avoided her gaze and she wanted to brush his dark curls out of his eyes.

‘Something like that.’

Raina could have cried. But she changed the subject instead, sensing his need for a distraction.

‘I was Pepper’s cleaner.’

He glanced up in surprise. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Broke up a fight she and her boyfriend were having one time. With a toilet brush. And we’ve been best friends ever since.’

Tom threw his head back and laughed. ‘That’s great copy.’

‘Feel free to use that story.’

The ghost of the story he was writing sobered the mood. Raina allowed the last of her ice cube to melt and then pressed her palms together. She wanted to believe that Tom ‘Blue Tick’ Branimir was here because he found her interesting. Charming. Maybe even enchanting. But the brutal realist that lived in the basement of her otherwise romantic heart told her that this just wasn’t true.

‘We should leave each other alone, Tom,’ she said quietly.