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“Give someone enough rope and they will hang you with it eventually. Either intentionally or not, the result is the same. I don’t miss the intimacy, no.”
“So, what happens now? You’ll never have a relationship again? Never let anyone in?”
“Not in the conventional sense. I value my sanity far too much.”
“I think I shall adopt the same philosophy,” she said, raising her glass. “Here’s to us. Single and sane.”
“Here’s to us, Lydia Marsh. Non-talkers anonymous. Private and proud.”
“That should be our new tagline. Single and sane, private and proud,” she laughed.
“I’ll have it printed up and framed for my living room.”
“I’ll have it printed up and framed when Igeta living room,” she smiled sadly. “I really need to get my shit together.”
“Where are you living?”
“On a friend’s sofa. It’s not the greatest. I need to find a house share or something, but I die a bit at the idea of all the smiles and questions and rigmarole of finding suitable housemates. I need to get a grip.”
“You have to allow yourself a bit of slack, given the circumstances.”
“A bit of slack won’t find me somewhere to live.”
The idea was there in a heartbeat. Maybe it had been there all the time, lurking under the surface.No, James, no. Don’t fucking do it, no fucking way.My mouth turned dry, my throat tightening around the words in my throat. “I’m sure you’ll sort something out.”
“I’d better had,” she said. “I think Steph’s boyfriend is getting sick of me. I hear her shushing him at night and pushing him away. Paper-thin walls.”
“Always a bitch, those.”
“They should just get on with it. I’m a big girl, I can handle the odd grunt in the night.”
I itched to ask her more questions, to scratch at the pain under her skin until I found her soft and raw inside, but the conversation was over. Her head was firmly back on planet Earth, complete with its accommodation nightmares. I tried to convince myself it was for the best, but one flash of her eyes put paid to that.
She’d compelled me to talk, bored into my privacy like a hungry worm. For that small deed alone she deserved to go over my knee. Her perky little ass would feel just right under my palm.
She checked her watch. Game over.
“We should get to bed. Another early start.”
“Yes, we should.”
I summoned the bill and signed the evening to my room as she watched me. We walked up slowly, the silence hanging heavier with each step. She slid her keycard into the lock and turned to me with cold, cool eyes again. Professional Lydia.
“Thank you, James, I had a great night.”
“My thanks for a job well done.” She gave me a smile as she pushed her way into the room beyond, and I was there outside the bushes again, autumn leaves under my shoes. “Lydia, wait.” She stepped back, eyes full of questions, and there, underneath them was the tiniest hint of potential. I could almost taste thewhat-ifcoursing through her mind, even if she didn’t know it. I took a step towards her, forcing her to tilt her head up to meet my eyes, approaching so close I could feel the heat of her through my suit. “I have a friend who’s looking for a housemate. She won’t pry. No false smiles or interviews, just a room there if you want it.”
I watched her exhale, the corners of her mouth lifting as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I want it. Thank you.”
“Don’t you even want to know where she lives?”
“Where does she live?”
“Camden.”
“That works. What’s her name?”
“Rebecca.” I stared at her awkwardly, my composure well out of kilter. “Goodnight, Lydia.”
