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‘I...well, I don’t know what to say.’
‘Have you never looked him up on the internet?’
‘No.’ My chin tucks under as I glance at her as if she’s crazy. ‘I’m not some weird stalker. Besides, I had no idea he would be worthy of an internet search.’
‘Ah, and the truth is out.’
My laugh is awkward. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, had you realised he was worthy of an internet search you would have done it.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Why not? I search up my husband and I know everything there is to know. Besides, it can be amusing to laugh at all the stuff the tabloids get wrong at times.’
‘You got that right.’
‘And better to laugh than to let it get to you.’
‘True.’
We clink glasses and I sense the newfound bond between us swell. And my desire to have them front my charity arm flourishes with it. Valentine definitely called this right. And as for Valentine...
‘So come on, tell me, just how much of a daredevil was he?’
‘Oh, you wouldn’t believe how bad he was. Thinking up crazy dares, challenging his mates to a game of chicken, ridiculous drinking games, all night parties... Seriously, if there was a party Valentine was either instigating it or at the centre of it anyway. You know the phrase, the life and soul, that was him.’
I raise my brows, hum into my glass as I take another sip. Isthathow he got his scar?
‘But the accident changed things...’ She breaks off, her eyes finding him inside the bustling corporate box. ‘It was understandable really. He didn’t want to party. He didn’t want to drink. Hell, it took us long enough to get him socialising again, and we missed him. Really missed him.’
‘He was that bad? But he was only a teenager; surely they bounce back quicker than that?’
Though I feel unfair now. If he’d dreamed of being a professional footballer and he shattered that in one foolish act...
‘Oh, no, he was much older.’
‘He was?’ Now I’m confused.
‘I’m not talking about the crazy stunt he pulled busting his foot.’ She lowers her voice as she leans in to me. ‘I’m talking abouttheaccident. You know, the one that killed Layla.’
‘Layla?’
The blood drains from my face as the champagne rises in my throat.
‘His wife.’
His what?
‘You didn’t know?’ She looks at me, a frown creasing up her brow. ‘Sorry, I just assumed, what with you two being so obviously close. I kind of had you pitched as friends rather than just acquaintances. The way he looks at you and how at ease you both are. And everyone who knows Valentineknowsabout it. And, oh, my God, I’m rambling. I’m so sorry. I really do need to learn to zip it.’
I’m still reeling. ‘He was mar—’
‘Right, ladies, gossip time is over.’ His husky voice penetrates through the conversation and my eyes snap to his as he stands in the opening to the internal part of the box now.
His expression’s unreadable, but I get the strange sense he knows what we were talking about. I also feel a peculiar stab in my chest. Anger. Hurt. I don’t know. I just want to know why he didn’t tell me he was widowed too.
‘Time for us to celebrate,’ he says. ‘Louis is on his way up.’
