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“Please, but can you hurry?”
The closer we get to St Anthony’s the more uneasy I feel. I may be to blame for two speed cameras that flash and the red light McKenzie drives through. I will feel a lot more at ease when I am sitting back at her side.
I jump out of the car before McKenzie has parked, and once inside the hospital I hurriedly make my way to Chelsea’s room. The bed is empty, and a nurse is changing the sheets in readiness for the next patient.
I count to ten, trying to remind myself I’m a Calloway, and as a Calloway I should never make a scene, but it’s no use. I lose my temper and make a loud and very public scene when I call the staff incompetent for allowing Chelsea to discharge herself. From the hospital there is only one place she could be. Despite being given wealth and riches and the keys to my goddamn castle it’s no good, for my little bird has returned to her cage.
A cage I own!
With McKenzie driving, we arrive in Heller St Claire a little after six. I jump out of the car and pass Calloway estate agency just as Eve is locking up. She meets my gaze and, much like a soldier, stands to attention.
“Mr Calloway. I cannot thank you enough for this job and opportunity,” she begins.
“You’re welcome,” I say and hurry past her to the side door leading up to the flat.
“If you’re looking for Chelsea, you won’t find her,” Eve calls after me. “She’s in America with Tyler.”
I turn and offer Eve a curt nod. “I am just checking on the flat,” I lie, and, opening the door, make my way up the narrow flight of stairs. I stand outside Chelsea’s front door and push my key into the lock. The key won’t turn.
I bang on the door. “Open up, I know you’re inside.”
Silence.
“For God’s sake, Chelsea, my key isn’t turning which means one of two things. Either your key is in the barrel, or you’ve had the locks changed. Seeing as Eve is unaware of your return, it would suggest the latter. Now open up.”
I’ve gone from knocking on the door to hammering on it. “If you don’t talk to me then I’ll be forced to break the bloody door down.”
Silence.
I know the girl doesn’t like confrontation, but this is ridiculous. “Very well, you’ve given me no choice.” I pull my jacket off, unfasten the shirt buttons at my wrist and roll up my sleeves. I take a few steps back and prepare to charge. Breaking down doors is not the way I would usually conduct myself, but I would tear through bloody mountains just to get to her.
“Please, leave.”
I drop my arms to my sides and walk toward the door. I press my palm against the cool wood. “Talk to me. Tell me why you’re doing this.”
Shadows take shape in the small gap at the bottom of the door and I can hear movement from the other side. I’d like to imagine that she too has her hand pressed against the wood, that despite it acting as a barrier we are connected somehow.
“I’m doing it for you.” Her words come out as a sob, and all I want to do is tear the door from its goddamn hinges and pull her into my arms.
“Chelsea—” I press my forehead against the door and watch as something is pushed through the small gap. I bend down and pick up my grandmother’s engagement ring. The gold band is still warm, telling me she hasn’t long taken it off. I close my fingers around it and bring my fist to my heart.
“Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me how I fix this,” I say, wanting, or ratherneedinganswers.
“It isn’t you.”
I roll my eyes at the ‘it isn’t you, it’s me’ spiel. “Sorry, Chelsea, but you’re going to have to do better than that if you don’t want me tearing the door off its hinges or camping out here until you let me in.”
“I don’t love you, Lucian, and I never will,” she calls, and her words stop me dead. “I’m done with pretending. Our arrangement is over.”
My shoulders fall, and my mind takes me back to the break-up with Samantha. Samantha broke my heart, but the pain I felt then doesn’t come close to the pain I feel now. My heart hurts, so much so I bring my hand to my chest. I can’t breathe, nor can I deal with this much pain.
“I hope you have a good life,” I grit out, and stumble down the stairs. I trip as I make my way onto the street. I run across the road and to where the Mercedes is parked. I look to the shop and to the window of the flat above where Chelsea is standing.
She’s there for a second before she disappears back into the darkness. I swallow the burning lump in my throat, open the door to the Mercedes and slide in.
McKenzie doesn’t start the engine. He looks to the flat and back to me. “Where’s Chelsea?”
“It’s over,” I say and slide my grandmother’s engagement ring into the pocket of my trousers. Without another word McKenzie switches on the engine and we head back to my Surrey estate.
