I would go, you made me believe I’d be okay, and I am. I’m okay. Why did you think I wouldn’t come?’
‘You didn’t tell me you were coming yesterday.’
‘Because it was supposed to be a surprise. For your birthday!’
‘Come inside,’ Nick says, opening the door wider.
I practically leap through the front porch and skip into the hallway. Falling into his arms, I expect Nick to catch me, to return the embrace. He takes hold of my hands instead, removes them from around his neck, squeezes them and lets go. I’ve never noticed a ring on his left hand before, and thank God, there isn’t one today either.
I want to ask what’s wrong, but I’m afraid.
‘I’m in shock, sweetheart.’
‘Good shock or bad shock? Actually, don’t answer that.’
Framed photographs of the two little girls are arranged across all of the walls: small cherubs sitting on furry white rugs; toothless smiles in green school uniforms. There isn’t a single picture of Nick to be seen. Certainly no wedding photograph; not within my view. Perhaps the little girls are his nieces and this isn’t his house. Except it is.
I’m willing my instincts to be wrong. Please, please, be wrong. Let the children be his nieces, his cousins, his best friend’s kids, anything but his own. Please. I can feel tears waiting in my eyes.
‘Tell me I was mistaken, Nick. Tell me I jumped to conclusions yesterday. And if you tried to call me, I’m sorry, my Dubai number isn’t working here in the UK. I bought a new SIM, but—’
‘Zara, stop. How did you find out where I live?’
‘Easy. Your emails.’
Nick’s face is so blank that I hardly recognise him. His regular laughter lines are invisible, his expressions dull instead of bright. I take my phone out of my army jacket pocket, show him the screenshot of his address printed in small letters below the company logo for Nicholas Consultancy. My eyes catch his and I never thought it possible to witness the blood drain from somebody’s face, but it does, and he gulps, as if he’s swallowing a hard, dry rock.
‘And I knew you worked from home,’ I say. ‘Is this your home?’
He nods.
‘Do you want to show me around?’ I try, my voice quivering.
‘Not really.’
‘What?’
Instead, Nick cups my face, pulling me close, and kisses me. His hands move to the back of my neck, down my back, and I throw my arms around his waist naturally, although more on instinct than with passion. Moving me towards the stairs, I fall back and Nick kneels, his hard crotch pushing against me. He kisses my neck, my chest, nuzzling his head across my stripy top.
‘Wait … Nick …’ I say. ‘Let’s talk.’
‘All we’ve done for six months is talk.’
‘Well, I didn’t just come here for sex!’
‘So why did you come?’
His words stab me like an ice-cold dagger.
‘To start our life together,’ I say, instantly ashamed at how that sounds in the still air of this beige hallway. All this time, I thought I was seizing a wonderful opportunity, but in reality I was just taking a risky gamble. ‘You know how much I want to complete my degree and you told me that Liverpool has a great university—’
‘You say you want to do a lot of things, sweetheart. Last week you told me you wanted to climb Machu Picchu.’
‘And you said you wanted to climb it with me!’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could’ve booked us a nice hotel in town, had the champagne on ice.’
‘I don’t want a nice hotel, I just want to be here, like we’d talked about.’
He covers his face with his hands and murmurs okay over and over to himself.
‘You want to be here,’ he says, quietly, ‘and you are. So, please, let’s stop talking.’
He moves closer and presses his lips against mine once more. Lifting up the skirt of my denim pinafore, he runs his hand inside my thighs. This should be a fabulous moment – it’s all I’ve spent many nights thinking about as I’ve tried to fall asleep over the past months. Except, in my mind, Nick wasn’t so rough.
‘Stop,’ I say, trying to push him away.
‘Come on …’ he mumbles, his face heavy against mine.
‘No.’
Placing my hand on the banister, I haul myself up to standing. I fix my army jacket, which has fallen off my shoulders, and straighten my haphazard pinafore. But Nick’s closing in on me again, his scent wildly different from the one I remember. I don’t like how