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In the end, leaving was the only choice I really had. And as I lean back against the rough wall of The Crown, not entirely sure whether the liquid on my face is from rain or tears, I’m still not sure what I could have done differently.
Other than pretty mucheverything, obviously.
“Lexie? Lexie, are you okay?”
I’m so deep inside my thoughts that at first I think his voice is just a memory, or a dream. But then my head clears enough to let me look up, and there he is, crouched in front of me in the rain, like some kind of vision.
“Jett? What are you doing here?”
I’m quite impressed I manage to get the words out, under the circumstances (Ian should really stick topouringdrinks, rather than mixing them from now on…), but Jett just frowns slightly.
“I’m looking for you, Lady M,” he says, his face close to mine. “And it looks like I’ve found you just in time, too; it’s pouring out here.”
“This isn’t what pouring rain looks like, Jett,” I tell him, speaking carefully so he can’t tell how drunk I am. “This is a light drizzle. Trust me. Did you know that in Scotland we have about a thousand different words for rain?”
I made this little factoid up on the spot, but it doesn’t really matter, because Jett isn’t listening — he’s too busy pulling my coat around my body to warm me up.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you out of here.”
He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me to my feet. I wobble slightly as the alcohol in my system reminds me uncomfortably of its presence.
“You’re not gonna be sick on me, are you?” Jett asks, brushing the hair back from my forehead and looking at me intently.
“No, that’s your job. Remember?”
I’m not sure if he knows what I’m talking about; if he even remembers how, the night we met, I found him passed out on the street outside the bar I was working in, and he threw up on my shoes as soon as I tried to move him. But I’ve got nothing left to lose now, so I mention it anyway.
“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” he replies, grinning. “We’re gonna have to stop meeting like this.”
“Outside dive bars in the rain, you mean?”
“You got it, Lady M. Come on.”
Still holding me tightly, he turns me around and steers me towards the road, where I notice a familiar orange car sitting parked outside the pub.
“What’s McTavish’s car doing here?” I ask, confused. “I asked him to send someone to my house to collect it?”
“It’s not McTavish’s car, Lexie,” Jett says, a half-smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “It’s yours. Well, it’s technically mine, I suppose. I bought it for you, though. I asked McTavish to tell you it was a company car because I knew you wouldn’t accept it if you thought it came from me. And it’s here because McTavish told me you were trying to give it back, so I took the spare key and went to your house to get it. But you weren’t there, so I’ve been driving around town ever since, looking for you.”
“You… you bought a car?” I ask, not sure whether to lead with this question, or with the fact that he’s apparently been looking for me. “Forme?” I know that’s what hesaid, of course. It’s what itmeansthat requires some clarity.
“Yeah,” says Jett, clicking the key fob to open the door. “But let’s get you into it and out of the rain before you ask any more questions, okay? It’s kinda cold out here.”
I get obediently into the car, my mind whirring.
“I don’t understand,” I say, as Jett gets into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. “We’re not together any more. We haven’t been together for months. Why would you buy me a car?”
“Because McTavish told me you needed one,” Jett says simply, pulling away. “And I knew I could help you, so I did. It’s not a big deal, okay?”
“But itisa big deal,” I protest. “It’s a very big… wait.”
I look at him suspiciously.
“The phone,” I say, holding it up like Exhibit A. “Was this you, too? McTavish told me it was his, but…?” “Look, I told him tosay that for the same reason I told him to tell you the car was just a loaner,” says Jett, his eyes trained on the road. “I knew you wouldn’t want it from me, so I got him to make something up. I wouldn’t have asked him to do anything at all if I’d known he was your boyfriend, though.”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel; I can see the knuckles turn white.
“But he’s not,” I tell him, twisting around in my seat so I can see him properly. “He’s just a friend, Jett. There’s never been anything… I don’t see him like that. I never have. And I know what it looks like; I know why you thought we were together, and I know I haven’t exactly done anything to tell you we weren’t, but I’m telling you now, okay? I’m telling you now.”
