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Pushing my way out of the door, I reach for my phone to call Luke, but I don’t get to dial him. He’s sitting in the carpark in his BMW waiting for me. Waiting to hold me together. He’s been here the whole time. He knew I’d need him. Always there for me.
I exhale, the last of my anxiety leaving me, and hurry over. There’s a definite stagger to my steps, the wine reaching my head with the help of fresh air. “Please get me out of here,” I beg as I fall into the passenger seat.
“You smell like a wine cellar.”
“It was the only way I could get through it.” I hiccup and press my lips together. “I’m a little bit drunk.”
“You’re entitled to be drunk.” Luke starts the car and pulls away. “Am I taking you home?”
His question gives me pause. Home. My house hasn’t been my home since Billy died. It’s empty, soulless, and silent. “I think I should move. Get a smaller flat somewhere.”
“Okay,” Luke agrees easily. “But what now?”
“Just drive. Anywhere. I don’t care where.”
“I know just the place.” Luke hardly even thinks about it, taking a left at the roundabout and putting his foot down when he hits the M25. I rest back in the seat and breathe in deeply, content for him to take me away from here.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Brighton? My neck cranes as we pass the sign welcoming us to the eclectic British seaside town. I’ve never been here before, despite it being within easy driving distance of the city. After navigating the streets with ease, Luke pulls up on the seafront. It’s cold, there’s hardly anyone around, and the waves are bashing the shoreline in loud, foamy surges. It’s still dull, still drizzly, and the horizon can barely be seen in the distance.
I get out, keeping my eyes on the sea. It might be a dreary day, but it’s still beautiful. Oh, how I’d love to see it in the height of summer. I imagine hordes of people, tourists and locals, wandering the promenade, bumming on the beach, paddling at the shore. I breathe in the thick, salty air and sigh. My lingering thudding headache clears for the first time in weeks.
Bunching my hands in my pockets and huddling my shoulders up to my ears, I turn to find Luke. He doesn’t have a coat; his only protection from the bitter cold is his suit jacket. “Brrrrrrr,” I shudder, the whipping wind made more biting by the sea, working its way into my bones. “Don’t you have a coat?”
“No.” Luke blows into his hands and rubs them together. “I didn’t think this through, did I?”
I look down at my gray trench coat. “I don’t think we’ll both fit in here.”
He smiles and wanders over, his green eyes seeming greener, like they could be reflecting the sea. “I’m a brave man. I’ll power through.”
“Your lips are turning blue.” I surrender the warmth of one of my pockets to reach up to his lips, padding them lightly with my fingertip. “They’re freezing.”
He moves suddenly, playfully snapping at my fingers. I jump back, startled, and then smack his bicep. The sound of his chuckle takes the edge off my cold skin. “I’m fine.” He takes my hand and pushes it back into my pocket before wrapping his arm around my shoulders and tucking me neatly into his side. We start to walk down the promenade, and though I’m wondering why he chose here of all the places he could have driven me, I don’t ask. The crisp, briny air, the sound of the sea, it’s just what I need. Escape, out of London, away from the relentless sympathy and, now that Linda has spouted her mouth off, the judgments too.
“Do you think I’m a bad person?” I ask. I don’t look at him, choosing to keep my eyes on the sea.
“Do you think I’m a bad person?” he asks in reply.
“No. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”
“And so are you.”
“Can a person be kind and bad?”
“We’re not bad, just to be clear.” He bumps his hip above mine, and I smile. “I think sometimes people do things that others might frown upon. But it’s the right thing for them to do. You can’t control how outsiders view your choices, and you shouldn’t have to. It was the right thing for me to put myself in your life. It was the right thing to give you the money you needed, and it was right to walk away when I did. At the time, I thought I was making all the right decisions. Hindsight can sometimes be a brutal thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I shouldn’t have walked away from you after I’d given you that money.” He looks at me, his lips too straight to smile. “I’m sorry I did that.”
