‘You’re a beautiful girl. Any man would be proud to have you as his girlfriend.’
Any man except you, obviously.
‘Look, I have to leave.’ Nick checked his watch, clearly lying but desperate to escape. ‘Why don’t I make you that coffee now, then I’ll be off: Because I don’t want bloody coffee, I want a gallon of weedkiller.
‘And don’t worry, we’ll just pretend this never happened. Lola doesn’t need to know. I won’t tell her,’ Nick said gently. ‘I won’t breathe a word to anyone. That’s a promise.’
It took Gabe half a minute to reach his car. He zapped open the door and sank into the driver’s seat, appalled by what he’d learned about himself in the last thirty seconds. Because he genuinely hadn’t had any idea, not even the remotest inkling, that the sight of Sally with another man could make him feel like this.
Yet ... it had. Despite the fact that she drove him insane on a daily basis, that she lived her life surrounded by clutter and chaos and that domestically they were about as compatible as Tom and Jerry, in the space of just a few seconds Gabe discovered that he was capable of white-hot jealousy where Sally was concerned. Because he didn’t want her to be seeing someone else.
Oh God, now he knew he was going stark staring mad. Sally, of all people. Gabe groaned aloud and rubbed his hands over his face. This couldn’t be happening; he didn’t want to want her. She was the last person on the planet he needed to get involved with.
Except ... well, that wasn’t going to happen anyway, was it? It wasn’t as if it was even an option, because she was already involved with someone else.
Bloody hell, Lola’s dad. How long had that been going on? And they’d been keeping it very quiet, although this was hardly surprising given the circumstances. Lola was currently doing her damnedest to get her mum and dad back together. If Nick and Sally were prepared to take the risk of her discovering that one of her best friends had pinched him instead ... well, it had to be serious.
Gabe felt sick. First Savannah, then a puncture on the M4 on the way back to London, and now this. What a ridiculous situation to be in.
Seeing as he couldn’t go back to the flat for a while, Gabe switched on the ignition. The car radio came to life, belting out an REM classic. Michael Stipe, never the cheeriest of souls, sang mournfully, ‘Eeeeeeeeeverybody huuuuuurrrrrrts ..
Hmm, with Sally’s track record the chances were that she was the one who’d end up getting hurt.
‘Eeeeeeeverybody huuuuuuurrrrts—’
Oh, do shut up. Impatiently Gabe jabbed the off button, cutting Michael Stipe off in mid-warble.
Who was he trying to kid? Right now, he was the one hurting. Jealousy was a new sensation and it was gnawing away in his chest like battery acid.
He didn’t like this feeling one bit.
Sally was in the kitchen when Gabe arrived home at midnight. Hobbling out in her dressing gown clutching a packet of Kettle chips, she watched him shrug off his jacket.
‘Where have you been? You look awful.’
Gabe glanced at her. ‘Not looking so fantastic yourself.’
‘Thanks’ Sally already knew she looked like poo. Feeling sorry for yourself and having a good old two-hour blub in the bath was capable of doing that to you. She’d tried to scrub away the shame of having made an idiot of herself but it hadn’t worked. Basically, as far as men were concerned, she always had been and always would be a walking disaster.
OK, a limping one.
But at least Gabe didn’t know about this afternoon’s debacle with Nick. Attempting normality Sally said, ‘Been working all this time?’
He shrugged. ‘Yes.’
‘Any good shots?’
‘No.’ Gabe was standing stiffly by the window gazing out into the darkness, his streaky blond hair dishevelled and his hands now stuffed into the pockets of his ancient jeans.
Annoyed by the fact that he hadn’t even noticed, Sally said, ‘Spot the difference?’
His jaw was taut. ‘What?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, if this is how observant you are it’s no wonder you miss out on all the best photos! How does this room look to you?’
This time his gaze swept over the floor, the sofa, the coffee table. ‘Have you tidied up a bit?’
‘A bit?’ Incredulous, Sally exclaimed, ‘I tidied up a lot. Even with my bad leg! I cleared stuff away, put a load of magazines out for recycling, polished the table with Mr Sheen ... I took all my lipsticks and hair things off the window sill ...’
‘What brought this on?’
She flushed. A mixture of guilt, shame and displacement therapy had spurred her into action.
Keeping busy meant she didn’t have time to keep going over all the bad stuff buzzing around in her brain.
Aloud Sally said, ‘I just thought I should try and start making a real effort. I know it annoys you when I’m untidy.’
‘And you suddenly decided to do it just for me?’ There was a discernible edge to Gabe’s voice.
He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. ‘Or is it for the benefit of people in general?’
‘People in general.’ Sally bristled at his tone. ‘Why are you being like this?’
