Page 24 of Tears of Glass

The scowl chiselled onto my forehead makes my face ache. “No, I’m not coming back. I told you that quite clearly.”

He sips his coffee before broaching the subject again. “Okay, I respect that, Faith, but come on. I made a mistake, and just because you have this rule about second chances, I think you’re being really hard on yourself and not giving yourself one.”

The air slowly puffs out of my lungs as I sigh. This is the same thought I had yesterday in the pub. I can’t keep holding myself back by decisions I made years ago.

A wave of exhaustion sweeps across me like a desert storm, battering my defences until I want to curl up and hide. My hand rubs my face. I just want to sleep and not dream of blue eyes and shattered glass.

“I’ll think about it.” The words sneak past my control. “Jeez, I’m tired.” Gerard’s eyes fill with concern. “I blame myself, you know. I should never have suggested you for Bowsley.” His head shakes from side to side and he tuts loudly.

A small wry laugh escapes me. “You don’t know, do you?” I sit up a little straighter.

“Elijah already knew he wanted my work. He’d bought all my pieces from Whitlocks before you even asked me, before he’d even approached you.”

Gerard’s expression is one of genuine shock. “Jeez, he played that well.”

I scowl some more. I’m going to have a migraine the way things are going. “He’s a skilled actor.” Inside a burning knot of anger threatens to explode and overwhelm me.

He waves his hand as if we should forget all about it. Believe me, I’m trying. “Anyway, fuck them. You’re the one with the meeting with Channel 4.”

I smile. “Yep. Honestly I have no idea what this evening’s meeting could involve.” I don’t even know if I want to be on a show about art. But hell, I’d be crazy not to go to that meeting. Al would never forgive me.

I stop myself. It’s not the first time I’ve forgotten to put him in the past tense.

It hurts.

I need to ring Dan, but part of me can’t. I don’t know what to say. I wish I hadn’t ruined everything by letting you inside me.

What a mess.

“So have you thought about what terms you are going to angle for? I think you can ask for anything you want, well, that’s the impression Angela gave me at the—” He stops his words.

“At the ball?” I roll my eyes at him again. I need to stop that otherwise he’s going to think we’re friends again. “We can mention it. It’s not like I will forget anytime soon.”

His head tilts to the side. “Do you think you could make that heart again? It was spectacular. Damien said he reckoned they could have sold that for three thousand.”

Three thousand pounds? I shake my head. “No.” I don’t say anything else. There is no way I could make that again, that heart was Elijah’s. It was full of him. Now it’s broken and there won’t be another one.

“Shame.” He places his cup on the coffee table and makes to get up, grabbing his papers and leather satchel off the sofa. “I’ll leave you to get ready.”

“Thanks.” I walk him to the door, not that it’s necessary, it’s clearly visible from the lounge. “Wish me luck.”

He turns and for one awful moment I think he’s going to kiss me. God, no. Instead he sends me a small smile. “You don’t need it. Everything you touch turns to gold.”

I laugh, it doesn’t. Everything I touch turns to shit, as a rule.

“I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Good, thanks.” He pushes his glasses back up. “And think about Uni. You’ve still got a few days to decide.”

I pull the I don’t think so face, but he ignores it.

“You never know, it might turn out well being a big art-world TV star. That degree might help you with whatever comes next.”

With a small wave, I send him on his way. Then I lean against the door and attempt to get my shit together.

I don’t know what tonight is, or what it could lead to. I don’t even know if I should be going. Making logical decisions isn’t one of my strengths—says the woman covered in tattoos, but if I don’t go what will I miss out on?

When the front door rattles on its hinges and then closes with a slam, I sit up straighter. “I’m in the bath!” I holler, before Tabitha can come storming in. She’s obsessed with going to the toilet every five minutes to see if her period has started. I’m hoping at some point soon she’s going to come to terms with the fact that it won’t be for a fair while.