Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“Didn’t know what?” Here lies Lavender. Still playing pretend.
“That you had a really shitty boyfriend.” Her voice sounds so small. “That he hurt you.” She twists her head. “He did hurt you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Just a breath.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, taking her hand. I’d prefer to give comfort than have her smother me in the same.
“It’s not your fault either.”
But I think that’s entirely a matter of perspective.
“Lavender.”
“Mngh?”
“Lavender, sweetheart. Wake up.”
I open my eyes. Well, one of them. I appear to be lying face down on the bed, my face smooshed against the pillows, mouth open, and my lips stuck to the high thread count.
“Time is it?” I think I ask as I push up onto my palms, my knees, then flop backward to sit against the pillows.
“It’s a little after three.” Raif perches on the edge of the bed in jeans and a black fine-knit sweater. Weekend wear on a workday. For both of us.
“Urgh, I’ve been asleep for hours. Where’s Primrose?”
“On her way home with Luis. She said she’ll be back tomorrow and not to worry about the gallery.”
I nod, too tired to answer. Why am I so tired?
“It’s a trauma response.” Raif tenderly slides my hair from my face.
“I’m not traumatized,” I quickly say. Scoff, even, almost knocking his hand away.
“You were attacked.” His jaw tautens as though he’s biting back angry words. Yet all I can think is how his reaction contours his face.
Charlotte Tilbury contour wand, eat your heart out.
“No fair,” I say, reaching out to poke his cheek.
“No, it wasn’t fair. I’m having difficulty making out exactly what it was because it wasn’t just a visit from an old boyfriend, was it?”
“I don’t.” I stop. Take a breath. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“You were assaulted violently in your place of work. But you didn’t want to involve the police. Why is that?”
“I’m sure you didn’t want to involve them either,” I retort. “Not after you choked him and Luis kicked his head in.”
“That’s the least that piece of shit deserves. But I’m sure the police would’ve agreed we were restrained in our reactions. Tod, too.”
“What about Tod?”
“He was worried about you. He offered to make a statement to the police. Why didn’t you want to call them?”
I wiggle my bum backward, sitting straighter. “So it looks like we’re doing this,” I murmur.
“I would appreciate you taking me into your confidence.”
“That’s quite a courtly way to demand.” I draw my heels to my bum, and pulling my sweater arms over my hands, I hook them around my knees.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not like I owe you an explanation, is it? Unless this will be another one of those carrot and the stick things.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. Not if you don’t want to. But I hope you’ll trust me. Let me carry a little of your load.”
Shame swamps my anger. Kindness is something I can’t afford. It’s not something I’m looking for.
“Lavender, please.”
“Julian was my first boyfriend.”
“I see.”
“He was my first and only boyfriend, technically.”
“Wait, what does that mean?”
“It means after him, I thought twice about dating anyone else. Don’t look at me like that,” I demand in the face of his compassion. “I knew this was going to be a mistake,” I mutter as my gaze slides away.
“No.” The bedding rustles as he draws nearer, his large hands wrapping around my calves. “Please, Lavender.” His hold tightens as though to strengthen his words. “Let me in.”
“I thought I was head over heels in love with him.” My head whips around, my words like bullets seeking to harm. But they only ricochet.
“First loves can be a whirlwind.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Tell me.”
“I was at uni when we met, still in London and still living at home. Jules had a flat that he shared with a couple of mates. One of my friends was one of their girlfriends. We used to party.” My eyes dart his way, expecting judgment, I suppose. “Vodka. Pills.”
“Like most kids.”
“It was just weekends.” I swallow over the thoughts of those days. My first taste of freedom and the places it took me. Techno in warehouses. House parties on the rough edges of London. Breakfasts in the roughest of greasy spoons. It’s a wonder I didn’t come to harm before… that.
“So he was your first?”
“He was my only.” The glance I slide Raif’s way is unkind. And unfair. How was he supposed to know when no one else does?
“Lavender.” My name is rough as he pitches forward, pressing his head to my knees.
“That’s not on you,” I murmur, my tone still cool. Yet I can’t stop my fingers from touching his thick hair. When I apply a slight pressure, he sits up again but doesn’t move his hands from my legs, his expression turns impassive.