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“Well, clearly I’m not, am I?” And she’s probably not talking to me either. I stall, my door half closed, and look up at Sarah. “Why would you think I’d be with Ava?”
She frowns, stepping back, like she could be removing herself from the firing range of something. I’m worried that something is me.
“Sarah,” I say slowly, quietly. “Why would you think I’d be with Ava now?”
She looks across to Sam, who’s by his car, door open too, but he’s not got in. He looks as curious as I feel. And worried. “Well...” she says, fading off.
“Sarah, fucking spit it out.”
“I overheard her saying she was picking up her things from her ex’s. I just assumed you’d go with her.”
“Oh fuck,” Sam breathes.
My phone ringing screams from every speaker in my car, John’s name flashing up on the dashboard. I punch the green button on my steering wheel. “She’s been picked up by Kate,” John says.
“I know.” I cannot fucking believe she’s done this. I slam my door and spin away, the back end of my Aston zigzagging across the gravel uncontrollably. “Follow them and tell me where they go,” I order.
“Seriously, Jesse?”
“Yes, seriously, John. She’s going to her ex’s to pick up some stuff, and I’ve just this moment found out that it’s his white BMW that I’ve seen outside the gatestwice.”
“A white BMW?”
“Yes.”
“Motherfucker,” he breathes.
“You’ve seen it too?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it.” I hear the engine of his Range Rover start. “Can you make me a promise?”
“No.” I don’t indicate at the gates, hardly stop to check the traffic either, earning myself a few angry horn honks. I look up to my rearview mirror, seeing Sam’s Porsche kissing the arse of my Aston. He’s waving his arms like a mad man, angry, and a call comes through over John’s. “I’ll call you when I’m back in the city.”
“Wait,” John says. “You promise me there will be no physical.”
“Promise,” I lie, hanging up and taking Sam’s call.
“Slow the fuck down,” he orders, raging. “You’ll get yourself fucking killed, then you’ll be marrying no one.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna get a yes from her after what’s about to go down.” The red in my vision won’t shift. It’s the final straw. Mikael, Freja, and now Matt? I am so over trying to hold it together.
“Jesse, calm the fuck down.”
I hang up, tired of hearing it.Calm down. Calm down.They’re like broken fucking records. I come up fast behind a Mercedes, a bend in the road up ahead stopping me from overtaking.
It should stop me.
It doesn’t.
I put my foot down and zip out, dropping a gear and slamming my foot down, the sound of the Mercedes horn following me as I glide past. I look up at my mirror, seeing Sam close behind, not willing to lose me. And as expected, my phone rings again. “If I make it to the city alive, I’m going to fucking kill you. After everything, Jesse. Jake, Carmichael, Rosie, Rebecca, you drive like this?”
I look at the road, my focus set. Getting behind the wheel has always been dicey. The anger that churns up inside. The resentment that I’ve driven like a madman for years and am still breathing.
Carmichael was a good driver. It didn’t save them.
My knuckles become bloodless around the wheel, my foot heavier on the accelerator, and I drive like a complete arsehole all the way to the city. I call John back when I’m nearing Wimbledon. “Heading west,” he says flatly.
West? “Kensington, Holland Park, Notting Hill?”
