Page 40 of Tears of Glass

“Five minutes, Faith. Ten minutes if I’m lucky.” The slow smile he tilts in my direction makes my heart pound. It’s something he is extremely good at. It’s not even fair that he’s so gorgeous, something more than good looking. I am crazy fool. “I need to go and put these flowers upstairs,” I say, but then hold my hand out to stop him from following me. “You stay here,” I bark. He just chuckles which annoys me even more. Upstairs, I slam into the apartment and breathe deeply, my back resting against the door.

What am I doing?

What am I doing? What am I doing? The pastries are still in my hand and I peek inside the bag finding two chocolate croissants.

Damn that man.

Does he think he can just come here and give me flowers and chocolate and I’ll forgive him for what happened that night? Not a damn chance.

I clatter back downstairs and find him leaning against the hallway wall. There is no sign of Elijah Fairclough, Baroness’ son. In front of me it is just Elijah of wearing sliders fame. “Where are we going?” I ask. He smiles, and it’s slow and sweet. The butterflies I thought were long dead flicker their wings with the briefest flap of strength.

“Just a walk. It’s Monday, the sun is shining and neither of us have got anywhere to be.”

“Don't you have anywhere to be, Elijah? Like a job where there are always people waiting for you?”

He offers me a wry smile. “Not today, Sunshine.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Okay, Sunshine.” We walk in steady silence to the park where we had coffee when we first met. Back before summer destroyed us.

He sits on a bench and pats the slats of wood next to him. I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. Stand, Faith, if it makes you feel better.”

My head is whirling. I’m going to pass out soon if I don’t eat anything. With a ‘Hmph’ I sit down and burrow my breakfast out of the brown paper bag. When I’ve removed one croissant—flakes of pastry scattering everywhere—I shove the bag at him and he grabs one too. We sit and eat in silence, both of our eyes fixed on the vivid blue skied horizon of the September day. The blue is nearly as bright as his eyes—nearly, but not quite.

“I came to find you, you know?” His voice is low and my stomach squeezes painfully, the pastry in my mouth drying like cement until I’m not sure I can force it down.

“What do you mean?” I swallow hard.

“The day after the ball, I came to find you. I wanted to explain what had happened.”

“You didn’t. Dan would have told me.”

Elijah’s blues settle on my face, inscrutable in their depths. “I’m thinking he didn’t.”

My heart squeezes and I shrug. “What did happen, Elijah? Did you decide your mummy was too scary and you couldn’t stand up to her?”

He snorts derisively.

“You made me look a complete and utter fool. There wasn’t a damn person in that place who couldn’t see how I was looking at you, see that expression of total adoration on my face. The way my hand was on you. You made me look like a laughing stock.”

His head hangs for a moment and then he takes a torturously slow sip of his coffee, his gaze levelled on the sky again. That coffee is going to land on his head in a moment.

When he does turn to me, the expression etched into his face makes the air tighten in my throat. “You, Faith. Are simply the only thing I’ve ever cared about. You and Tabitha.”

“Did your mother threaten Tabitha? Tabs said she was going to be sent away? What happened?”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t anything to do with Tabitha. I was trying to protect you. Mother wanted to announce the work done at Bowsley was mine. She was going to side-line you as a punishment for me choosing you. It was made clear...” His voice is clipped and tight. “That the Faircloughs had to steal the limelight, so I distracted her so you’d get a chance to meet people, that everyone would know it was you who had done everything. How incredibly talented you are.”

At first his words don’t make any sense and I sit there as the daily activities of the park roll on past us, trying to unjumble them until I can form them into a sentence my brain understands.

“You distracted her? You decided to announce your engagement.” My coffee is feeling the need to come back up and decorate the pavement. “Why?”

“Because there is nothing the Faircloughs like better than a headline grabbing announcement. It was either me being the brains behind the project and you being side-lined, unmentioned. Or me pretending to be engaged for forty-eight hours while I gave you the chance to make your mark.”

“We could have explained to people that it was me. You didn’t need to do that.” My heart hammers against my chest. It’s almost painful and I wince as I try to breathe.

“What? Run around telling everyone there had been a mix up and it was little known Faith Hitchin who’d created the splendour and done so much—when Jennifer Fairclough has just announced her son is a genius art prodigy.” He snorts again.