Page 20 of Tears of Ink

“You know, if you turn to the side.” Leaning across the table, I tilt his face so the soft rays of the setting sun land along his nose and the tip of his chin. “You look like one of those beautiful cameo brooches the Victorians used to wear.”

He turns, my fingers still on his chin. Is it me or is his skin alarmingly hot?

“Aren’t they usually female profiles?”

I shrug, my hand still on his face. “Let’s not be sexist about it.”

His lips turn at the edges. “You just called me beautiful.”

I drop my hand. “I did not.”

He laughs, his shoulders rising and falling. “You did. You called me beautiful.”

Glaring, I narrow my gaze into a steely look. “I’d better go home before I change my mind about Bowsley.” I drain my glass.

I can’t sit here on this bench any longer.

In an hour with Elijah Fairclough, I’ve spoken more words to someone of the opposite sex than I have for five years—excluding Gerard. Normally there aren’t any words at all.

It’s been three days since my unexpected but short drink with Elijah Fairclough. I thought maybe I’d hear from him about visiting Bowsley.

Gerard’s been forgiven. Not because everything is all hunky dory, but mainly because I need him to help look at my pieces and decide which ones might be good enough for Bowsley. I’ve nearly finished with the marble, but it’s not what I intended to do with it—nowhere even close.

My phone rings and I see Abi’s face on the screen. “Hey, you.”

I give her an enthusiastic smile and shuffle myself around to hide the three sheets of blue silk I’ve hung from the ceiling.

I’m obsessed with the colour. And I can’t stop thinking about Elijah—no matter how hard I try.

“Why are you smiling? What man was it, and what did you do to him?” she quizzes.

“Why do you always think there’s a man involved?” I plop down on the small sofa and grab my packet of cigarettes. Sliding one out, I light it quick.

“Normally you only smile when you are on a sex come down. You’re basically like a praying mantis who needs to eat males.”

“I am not a stick insect.” I chuckle and suck in a lungful of smoke.

“You know what I mean. You’ve always been like this. You’re a predator: no feelings, no attachments, just sheer pleasure.”

I screw my face up and remember the guy from the bar the previous week. I’m not going to tell her there wasn’t much I found pleasurable about that. Why ruin her high expectations?

“What you up to this evening?” I change the subject away from my sex life.

“Oooh, it’s Friday. So, uh, I think I will stay at home and watch the telly.”

“Can’t you get a babysitter and go out somewhere? You are allowed to have fun.”

“We can’t all be single and shagging our way around London, in some free-wheeling display of independence.”

I frown and drag on my smoke. Seriously is that what she thinks I do all the time?

“Listen, I saw Al yesterday.”

My chest tightens. Abi has her serious face on. The one I don’t like. “Yes?”

“He’s not looking good, Faith.”

“What do you mean by good exactly? I talked to him the other day and he seemed fine.” I run my finger over my lightning bolt, my heart pinching a little into a sharp ache.