And another one:
Harry says he’s come to cash in on his investment in your upcycling business – he says you owe him and you can’t just leave the country to avoid your debt.
I double gasp and Enya looks over curiously. ‘Do you need my notepad?’ she offers kindly and I shake my head.
Harry’s here, too?
My heart races. Have they come to confront me? To tell me to my face what an absolute arse I’ve been and how much they hate me?
But they’rehere. How can they be here? They’ve come all this way, I have to go see them. Even if it is to let them tear shreds off me. They certainly deserve it.
‘You wanna hang out today?’ Enya offers. ‘I’m going to a life drawing class.’ She pauses. ‘I’m the model.’
Well, that decides things.
‘That sounds amaaaazing,’ I say, ‘but I’m actually going to meet my sister. Turns out she’s in town.’
Enya looks unimpressed. ‘Cool.’ Does Enya have family? I really should know this stuff about a so-called friend. Especially the only friend I seem to have in New York. Back in England I could list the entire extended list of cousins Harry has dotted around Buckinghamshire – and the order in which he hates them most.
I message Jemma back, my heart hammering in my chest. I suggest a coffee place near the airport. It’s quiet andinexpensive. Y’know, in case she makes me pay for the drinks in her fury. My hands shake a little as I add three kisses.
You never know, maybe the Xs will make her hate me a tiny bit less.
Chapter Thirty-EightJEMMA
Harry is the first to spot Clara. She’s sitting in a booth in the darkest corner of the room. She’s hunched over and in on herself, like she’s hoping we won’t spot her. But she waves when she sees us, almost like she’s excited.
‘Jemma! Harry!’ she calls happily, but her face falls as we approach. ‘I can’t believe you’re here, this is mad!’ She pauses, then gushes emotionally, ‘I’m so sorry, I’mreallysorry. Please don’t shout at me.’ She looks between us. ‘Well, obviously youcanshout at me if you want to – I know I deserve it – but please don’t. I’ve done so much crying these last few days, I am incredibly dehydrated.’
Harry laughs, pulling her in for a hug. She freezes for a second, looking thunder-struck, before relaxing into it. They hold onto one another and I can see Clara is close to crying – again. Harry pulls away at last. ‘You silly goose,’ he says with affection. ‘Why did you run away? We were all really worried.’
Clara gapes at him and then looks to me.
I frown, then try not to. Everything in me wants to hug her – to check her over for lumps and bumps and emotional bruises – I’ve honestly been so worried. But I’m also not quite so ready to forgive and forget. I have stuff to say. Stuff to ask.
I feel for the envelope in my pocket. And stuff totell.
I was forced to read the letter on the plane. Forced by two strange women, sitting either side of me. And now I just don’t know what to think. I have answers, but I also have more questions.
But right now, my only questions are for Clara.
Harry looks between us and clears his throat. ‘Listen, I’m going to leave you guys to chat for a while.’ He glances at me. ‘I’ll go get us checked into the hotel, OK, Jem? Come find me whenever you’re ready.’
I nod, unable to say thank you out loud. He’s been so good. So kind. And only a tiny bit drunk and useless on our journey here.
Clara leads us back into the booth and I see her swallow hard. We sit in silence for a minute.
I take a deep breath. I guess I’m speaking first.
‘Amanda told us the truth about Brandon,’ I say quietly, and Clara’s head shoots up. Her mouth opens and closes as her eyes fill with tears. I resist the urge to reach for her while I continue, ‘I don’t understand what happened, Clara. I thought we were starting to be in a good place – weren’t we? Couldn’t you have trusted me to listen to what you hadto say? Couldn’t you have told me he was a controlling arse? Instead of running off again?’
She looks up, a pained expression on her face. ‘It’s not about trust, Jem.’ She frowns. ‘At least I don’t think it is. It’s just… I don’t know, an instinct? I had to get away. I couldn’t face your disappointment. I know you don’t like much about who I am. You think I’m selfish and immature, and I couldn’t face you being right about me – again.’
A wave of emotion washes through me and I take a moment, letting them settle down. After a minute, I put a hand on top of hers. ‘I’m so sorry I’ve always made you feel that way, you don’t deserve it. You’re a good person, Clara, and I… I do love you.’ Her fingers find mine and we sit there, holding hands for the first time since we were kids. ‘I guess a lot of it stems from when we were young. Everything seemed so easy for you. I was jealous, I suppose. I probably still am.’
She shakes her head. ‘Everything seemed so easyfor you! You had it all together, everything sorted. You weren’t wasting your life chasing silly boys around and making friends with people whose names you couldn’t remember a year later.’ She gestures at me. ‘Look at you! Jemma, you’resosorted. You have the loveliest friends in the universe, you have a cool job that means you get to spend your days in your favourite place, you have enough money to hop on a plane to New York with a few hours’ notice!’ She grimaces. ‘Meanwhile I’m up to my arse in debt with no idea where I’m even going to stay tomorrow night.’
‘You’re not staying at Brandon’s?’ I ask with a frown.
