Ten minutes later, Mara was in the loop, I wasn’t fired, and we were in George’s car heading east. Because it turned out she didn’t live in London.
“I’m feeling a bit kidn*pped,” I grumbled.
She flicked a glance my way. “And does it turn you on?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll drive you back in the morning, safe and sound. Though most likely a little bit worse for wear.”
It took me a second or two to realise the slick, twisty feeling in my stomach was anticipation. God. All these months, I’d been telling myself I was okay. Except I blatantly wasn’t. I’d just been numb.
A half person, drifting through my days. I’d thought seeing Matthew—seeing that ring on his finger, Steve’s hand, possessive on his arm—had broken me. When actually the pain was a door opening, and now I could feel again.
Given Geor
