Page 192 of Strangers in my Bed


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I feel like a piece of shit as the tears stream down Cass’s face, choking on my own as they threaten to rise up and spill along with them. A huge part of me wants to drop to my knees and beg forgiveness from both of them, but it would be pointless.

Ant won’t look at me as I give Cass a final glance and walk away. I rub the tears from my eyes as I reach my case at the bottom of the stairs. I have no idea where the fuck to go or what to do, still half pissed on De Chante with nowhere to turn.

I hear Cass’s voice loud, from the kitchen. Pleading.

He loves you as well, Ant! He’s your best friend! Please don’t force him to go! This is my fault, not his! I’m the one who’s engaged to you!

The sound of her pain breaks my heart.

I lean back against the banister, trying to pull myself together enough to walk out. I’ve got my hand on the doorhandle ready to make my move when a rush of footsteps comes up behind me, and it’s Cass who pulls me into her arms, sobbing into my chest like this really is a final goodbye.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears spilling along with hers, but she shakes her head against me.

“No, Gerwyn. I’m sorry. This is my fault. I was the one who kissed you.”

I take a breath as she loosens her grip on me, trying my best not to meet her eyes as I pull the door open, because I can’t bring myself to say goodbye.

“I’ll get things sorted,” she says to me. “I’ll talk to him when he’s calmed down, and I’ll make it up to him however I can. We’ll put it right. It’ll be ok.”

I smile a sad smile, wishing I could share her optimism.

“Thanks. You can try.”

“I’m going to try my best,” she says and I love the genuine hope in her eyes. She wipes more tears away. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Somewhere. A hotel. Or a bar. Or in my car in a car park. I don’t know, Cass. Just somewhere.”

She flashes a glance back at the kitchen, but there’s no sign of Ant.

“Don’t go far,” she whispers, looking worried. “You’re not sober enough, or ok enough, or…”

“I’ll figure something out,” I tell her, but she shakes her head.

She reaches up behind her to the rack, grabbing her keys and her handbag. Her fingers are shaking as she unclips a key from the keyring, and she places it in my hand.

“My apartment in Newton Road. Go there.” She wipes her cheeks before she digs into her handbag for her notebook. She scribbles down an email address.. “He might want me to block all contact with you, but if you need me… this is one I rarely use…”

“CASS! ARE YOU COMING BACK IN HERE?” Ant bellows, and she curses herself as she drops the notebook. “CASS?!”

“Apartment four, Newton House,” she whispers, and her hands are shaking like hell as she grabs the notebook from the floor and hands it over in a panic. “Go, Gerwyn, honestly. You can stay there.”

I stuff the key and her notebook in my pocket, hating how ripped up my heart feels as I step away.

“CASS!” Ant yells again from the kitchen.

“I mean it, Cass. I’m sorry,” I tell her.

I love you. That’s what I want to say. I’m sorry, and I love you.

“CASS! GET THE FUCK BACK IN HERE!”

“Shit,” she whispers. “I can’t believe this is happening to us… I can’t believe you have to go. I can’t believe it…”

She looks so nervous. So scared. But that doesn’t stop a final display of affection. What might be her one last chance to say farewell.

My heart stops as she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. One gentle press of her mouth against mine that says sorry, and I love you, and goodbye, all at the same time.

I feel my heart tear to pieces when she pulls away. She doesn’t speak another word as she turns back to the kitchen and dashes back to Ant, and neither do I.

My tears are streaming so bad I can barely close the door behind me, and it takes every scrap of strength I have to reach my car and drive away.

Cass

I can hardly see through the tears. I lean against the wall just outside the kitchen, trying to compose myself before joining Ant. This is crazy. Watching Gerwyn leave hits me all the way down in my soul, and it’s my fault. I was the one who should have known my fiancé well enough to read what was really happening, even after downing too much De Chante.

That’s the problem, though. How well do I really know Ant? Not well enough, it seems.

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