‘Of course you are.’
‘I was too busy rescuing your arse to eat anything today,’ I retorted. ‘Let’s get some lunch. Or dinner—I don’t even know what time it is.’
We’d reached Dam Square by now, and Nick gestured to a table outside a very expensive-looking restaurant. ‘Will this do?’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Looks a bit touristy. And a bit pricey.’
‘We can afford to be tourists now, our work is done,’ Nick said. ‘Besides, what does it matter? Work’s paying for it.’
I laughed as I remembered our first day in Barcelona. But that reminded me that I still hadn’t given Katrina the welcome news that the job was done. For once I was eager to speak to her.
‘Burrowes!’ she barked. ‘Got my story yet?’
‘Yep, I’ve got it, and it’s a good one. Wait ’til you hear about—’
‘Great, Joy will get you on a plane home tomorrow night. She’ll text you with the details. I want the story on my desk by midday next Thursday.’
I stared in disbelief at the phone in my hand. ‘She hung up on me. After everything we’ve been through, the bitch hung up on me.’
Nick laughed. ‘That’s our Katrina, all right.’
‘No, I’ve had enough of this. She’s going to bloody well listen to me this time.’
I hit redial and when Katrina answered I told her everything that had happened that day, making sure I didn’t leave out the part where I’d not only proven Ford’s innocence, but saved his life and brought down the cartel. She was silent for several seconds after I’d finished.
‘Jesus, Burrowes,’ she said at last. ‘I just wanted a bloody celeb story, not a full exposé on the drug trade.’
The anger rose in me again. ‘What do I have to do to make you happy? If you don’t want the bloody story, I’m happy to take it to another—’
‘Hold up, hold up!’ she interrupted. ‘I hadn’t got to the part where I say well done. I admit I doubted you, but you’ve got a cracker of a story here. You really came through, Burrowes.’
I beamed. ‘So how about that bonus?’
‘We’ll discuss that once you’ve filed the story,’ she said. ‘But rest assured you’ll have enough to pay your mortgage for at least a few months. And then we can talk about whether you want a place on the team of journos.’
After I hung up, I thought again about the house I’d been here to fight for in the first place. Even now the danger had passed, I couldn’t conjure up the same fierce determination I’d felt only a few days ago. The motivation to keep the house at all costs had faded in the face of my feelings for Nick. But for now, I was happy to bask in the rare praise from Katrina and leave the house situation to worry about when I got home.
The waiter came out and took our drink orders, then discreetly disappeared.
Nick looked thoughtful. ‘You know, after everything Adelita has said, I’ve been thinking that maybe you and I should get into it too.’
I gave him a quizzical look. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I’m getting pretty sick of taking photos of celebs and being pushed around by Katrina. We work well together… so why don’t we give Women’s Choice the arse and go out on our own?’
A little thrill of excitement quivered through me. The thought of just walking away from my job and everything that was secure in my life was intoxicating. But it was also one extra complication on top of all the others. The waiter reappeared with our beers. I didn’t speak until she’d left us alone again.
‘It’s a risk,’ I said. ‘Celebrity gossip is one thing, but I’m not sure I’ve got the experience to do real stories.’
‘Are you kidding me? What do you think you just did? Ford might be famous, but that was some serious shit. No more celebrity gossip stories—we can do real investigative stuff. Issues that actually mean something. You write the stories, I’ll take the photos.’
Again there was that involuntary rush of excitement. I couldn’t make a big decision like this on the spot, but I also couldn’t help being infected by his enthusiasm, and excited by the prospect of working for myself. To be free of the overbearing Katrina, to write about serious issues. It was a risk, but it wasn’t as if I’d been earning a queen’s ransom writing my beauty column, either. What did I really have to lose?
OK, so there was my house. My livelihood. My dignity.
‘Let me think about it,’ I said. ‘Katrina offered me a full journo role if I got this story. A reliable income’s looking pretty good right now. I still don’t know what I’m going to do about… everything back at home.’
Nick’s face darkened. ‘What are you going to tell James? About us, I mean.’
I hesitated. He’d forced my hand. I didn’t know how to answer his question now any more than I had earlier in the day.
‘I don’t know… is there an us?’
We stared at one another, each trying to work out what the other was thinking. Each avoiding being the one to speak first. The silence stretched out between us.
I was just about to pour out to him everything that was jumbled in my head: that I cared about him, but I was confused about his feelings for me; that I’d loved James, but what I felt for Nick was something new, something different altogether; that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him for the last few days. But he spoke before I had the chance.
‘I just want you to know that I won’t stand in your way. If you and James get back together, I won’t cause any trouble for you. And I won’t tell him if you don’t want him to know.’
I broke his gaze and looked down into my glass of beer.
