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“It doesn’t. I apologize. It was rude of me to be so flippant.” I genuinely felt bad for being so quick to judge without giving it more thought. It made perfect sense that someone surrounded by death would want something that said the opposite.

Glenn’s smile was slow. “Don’t feel bad. You’re not the first to say something about it, and you won’t be the last.”

We were sitting by the window, with me facing it and Glenn with his back to it. Therefore, while I was in the perfect spot to notice the man stroll into view with a phone pressed to his ear and a smile on his face, Glenn remained oblivious. Not that he would have meant anything to Glenn, had he seen him. He hadn’t lived with Glenn for two months. Glenn hadn’t swallowed every lie he’d told. And Glenn hadn’t lost fifty percent of his personal possessions to the man chatting on his phone like he had absolutely no cares in the world.

Carl looked happy and relaxed, a complete juxtaposition to the molten heat forming in my chest at the sight of him. A molten heat that reached lava-like proportions when I realized the jacket Carl wore was mine. Leather. Expensive. A present from Verity. It was a little too big for Carl, but the thieving bastard was wearing it, anyway. It suddenly became of crucial importance to me that if I couldn’t get anything else back from him, I’d get that jacket back. I’d had a lot of time to think about Carl in the weeks since he’d left, and the more I’d thought about it, the more stupid I’d felt and the angrier I’d become about him making a mug out of me.

Glenn was talking, his voice nothing more than background noise. I gave myself a mental shake. “Sorry… What?”

He stopped mid-sentence. “I made a terrible joke about your ice cream getting cold.” My eyes strayed back to the window. Carl was still there. Still talking. Still smiling.

Glenn twisted around in his seat to see what had captured my attention. “Who’s that? Do you know him?”

“Carl,” I said, my voice dripping with acid. I’d been surprisingly calm when it had happened, but living in a house absent of things I couldn’t afford to replace had festered a resentment in me. I’d attempted to find him, intending to have it out with him, but had drawn a blank, a slow realization dawning about how little I’d known about the man I’d invited into my home. “He’s my…” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Verity referred to him as my ex, but he wasn’t. Not really.

“Right,” Glenn said, his tone loaded.

I apparently didn’t need to say the word for him to pick up on the subtext. “He robbed me.”

“Oh.” Slight consternation changed to concern. “Did you call the police?”

I pushed my chair back from the table, base instinct driving me. “I have to…”

Glenn reached over and grabbed my hand before I could stand. “You should let the police handle it. Don’t go out there. It might turn nasty. He looks as if he knows how to handle himself. I’ve met his type before.”

I yanked my hand free and stood. “That’s my jacket. He needs to give it back.”

“I really don’t think that’s…” Glenn never finished his sentence, probably on account of me already being halfway to the door. “What about your dessert? What about…?”

I didn’t catch whatever the last thing was, already through the door and out on the street. I’d imagined it being as simple as marching over to Carl, grabbing him by the arm, and demanding my jacket back. However, some sixth sense had him looking up before I could reach him. Or maybe it wasn’t a sixth sense. Maybe it was the way I’d thrown the restaurant door open like a cowboy leaving the saloon. In retrospect, stealth would have been a good idea. But stealth and fury didn’t really go together.

Our gazes clashed. If I’d been hoping for remorse, I was sorely disappointed, the only emotion on Carl’s face reminiscent of a small boy getting caught in the act. And then he took off running.

I didn’t stop to think, instinct kicking me into pursuit. Past a street cart selling burgers. Around a woman pushing a pram. Across a busy road, where horns blared and the cars didn’t stop. I had a fleeting thought whether the jacket was worth dying for at that point, but kept running anyway. Maybe Glenn would bury me.

Around a corner. Carl still in sight. Through the park, Carl pulling ahead when he athletically leaped over a fence, and I decided the risk of breaking a leg was too high and went around. Out the other side of the park. Over another road, this one thankfully not as busy.

By this point, both my legs and lungs were screaming at me to stop. Carl was younger, faster, and probably the more determined of the two of us, considering the circumstances to get away. I was stubborn, though, so despite this being far more challenging than my usual runs on a treadmill at the gym, I kept going, letting fury push me past what was physically possible.

When I got hold of him, I was going to tell him exactly what I thought of him taking my trust and shitting all over it, and then I was going to wring his neck. He could apologize all he wanted, and it wouldn’t matter a jot to me. He’d messed with the wrong man. He’d…

He’d disappeared was what he’d done. I came to a stop in the middle of the alley I’d pursued him down. No sound of footsteps. No glimpse of my jacket disappearing around a corner. Only a large, industrial-sized bin spilling over with rubbish, a faint light coming from the restaurant it backed onto, and a couple of rats not fazed enough by my presence to stop feasting on the slice of pizza they’d discovered.

I bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to drag some much-needed oxygen into my lungs. Unfortunately, the bin’s contents tainted the air. Rotting food, I presumed, but I wasn’t enough of a connoisseur of smells to tell for sure. Whatever it was, it made me retch. I swallowed it down. I did not need to end the night by throwing up in an alley.

My body was past thinking about what I wanted. I’d fed it steak and potatoes, given it wine, and then taken it on a punishing, high-octane run with all that food and drink sloshing around inside of me. It didn’t care what I wanted. Therefore, it happily purged itself over the broken tarmac, the rats taking offense at that and scattering.

Stomach empty, I staggered over to the other side of the alley and leaned against the wall for support. All that effort, and for what? Carl had gotten away. With my jacket. Sweaty and nauseous, I wrestled with the knowledge, perhaps too late, that I’d run out on a date.

There’d been a moment when I could truly imagine being with Glenn. Our love might not have been the kind that burns brightly and becomes the stuff of legend, but we would have had fun together and made each other laugh.

Telling myself it wasn’t too late, I levered myself away from the wall. The trip back to the restaurant took a lot longer than getting here had, on account of the fact that I’d taken little notice of where I was going and was slightly lost. Oh, and the limp I’d developed wasn’t exactly conducive to rapid travel.

The table Glenn and I had shared was empty. An inquiry to the waiter who’d served us resulted in a sympathetic smile, and the news that Glenn had paid for the meal and left. No, he hadn’t left a message. He’d just left. Which gave me no other option but to leave myself.

It was fine because I had a plan. I was going to find the nearest bar and get horrifically drunk. And if Verity messaged to ask how the date had gone, I was going to ignore her.