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“I’ve been sick,” I say. I want to tell him more, but I’ve no idea what Callum has said. I feel completely alone.

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sp; “Then you should go home,” he replies firmly. “I’ll call you a cab, we can charge it to the project.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Diana folds her arms in front of her chest. It’s as though the two of them are fighting over a toy. “I need to finish interviewing her before she leaves.”

“She’s clearly unwell,” Jonathan says. “Let her go and you can finish your meeting when she’s feeling better. I’m her boss, I’m responsible for her welfare.”

Diana opens her mouth to protest, then closes it with a snap. Shaking her head, she shrugs and steps back, giving Jonathan enough space to step forward and put his arm across my shoulders. He leads me down the corridor as I try to swallow down the bile that’s collecting in my throat.

“Make sure you keep your phone on,” Diana shouts, before we turn the corner. “I’ll call you later to rearrange the meeting.”

I don’t reply, because Jonathan is opening the door to his office and ushering me inside. He shakes his head when his PA starts to talk to him. Instead he sends her out for coffee, closing the door firmly behind her, and sits me down in the easy chair next to the window. Then he hands me a handkerchief and hunkers down in front of me, an expression of concern written across his face.

“I think you’d better tell me what’s going on.”

27

Talking to Jonathan is so much easier than being interrogated by Diana. He listens patiently as the words spill out with the tears, silently handing me his soft, linen handkerchief. The whole story comes out; from the first kiss to the declarations of love, and it feels as though a weight has lifted off my chest.

When I’m out of words, he hands me a glass of water and leans back against the desk. There’s no look of shock on his face, no expression of surprise, and I find myself wondering how much of this he already knew.

“You don’t seem too perturbed by a woman crying in front of you,” I say, as much to break the silence as anything else. “Most guys would be running away screaming.”

“I’ve got four sisters,” he says, the corner of his lip quirking up. “I’m used to the waterworks and drama. They trained me well.”

It’s strange how you only see one side of people until the shit hits the fan. I’d never have put Jonathan—my ever-so-posh, very restrained boss—into the confidante category, yet he’s playing the role very well.

“Callum texted me and asked me to get you away from here,” he says.

“Where is he?” I lean forward. “Can you take me to him?”

Jonathan shakes his head. “I think the partners are grilling him while Diana grills you. I spent half an hour wandering the corridors looking for you.”

I look up at him with a watery smile. “Thank you.”

“So now I need to get you home. I’ll get us a cab.”

This time I shake my head. “You’re too busy, there’s that meeting at three. I can take my own taxi.”

“I’ve postponed it until next week,” Jonathan tells me. “You don’t think I’d go in there without my project manager do you?”

He calls for a cab anyway, and I sit quietly next to him as we wind our way through the busy London streets. I lean my head against the door, my mind still racing as I wonder what the hell Callum is saying, and whether he’s about to lose his job too.

We knew about the damn policy, we simply didn’t think it applied to us. Apart from a couple of kisses, we conducted our relationship away from the office. But now I realise how obvious we must have been. Especially last night when we ended up making out in the corridor.

Eventually we pull up to my street. Any embarrassment I might have felt at Jonathan seeing the state of our road is blotted out by the sickness that is still tugging at my stomach. I mutter a goodbye and grab my bag, practically falling out of the cab and into the gutter.

Not a metaphor, I tell myself.

Before I close the door I look back at Jonathan. “If Callum calls you first, can you ask him to ring me?” I say. Jonathan nods his head and I slam the door shut, using my other hand to dig into my purse to turn my phone on.

There are missed calls and texts, from both Callum and Jonathan. I listen to Callum’s more than once, just to hear his voice. At the end, there’s a message from Charlie—who asks me what the hell is happening—and I realise the news is already spreading fast.

I try to call Callum while I sit on the front step, unwilling to enter the house right away. It goes directly to voicemail, and I leave a message, asking him to call me as soon as possible. After I hang up, I try Charlie. He answers after the second ring.

“Amy? Are you okay?” He’s breathless, as if he’s been running. “Is it true what they’re saying?”

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