Page 53 of Tears of Glass

“Listen, Elijah. I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but you know I can’t do second chances, and I think deep down you understand why.”

The blues glance across my face. “Yes.” He nods. “I know.”

His acknowledgement pops a balloon inside me I didn’t even know was inflating.

It’s better this way. Safer.

I slip my hand under his arm and step closer. Good God, he smells amazing, and he leads me out to the street. “Your carriage, my lady.” I smile when I see the MG and slip onto the immaculate leather, relishing the scent of the upholstery cloying in the air. I’ve missed this car.

He turns the key and we idle out into the evening traffic. It’s still light; people still working their way home from a day at the office. I watch them through the passenger window as Elijah does his sexy driving thing and we sit in silence.

“How was your day?” he asks eventually.

“Interesting. I flooded the flat downstairs.”

He raises an eyebrow and flashes a smirk my way. “That sounds more than interesting.”

“Well I kept getting all these deliveries and I forgot I had the bath running.”

His eyes settle on the shape of my legs under the black silk. “I’d say I’m sorry, but you look stunning in that dress.”

I nod. “Saskia did a good job, although I don’t know why the Fairclough personal shopper feels the need to dress me. I’m not the responsibility of the Faircloughs anymore.”

“She did,” he clips his response, not commenting on the rest of my observation.

“So where are we going again?”

He inclines his head through the windscreen. “We’re here.”

I stare in confusion at Whitlocks. Firstly, it’s closed, way past trading hours; secondly, why the hell am I wearing a Max Mara dress?

When he turns, the depths of fire within his gaze all but freezes me to the spot. He reaches forward and brushes a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“I don’t want this to be a second chance, Faith. I never want to have a second chance with you, because I want everything to be a first, forever. What happened before, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t me and it wasn’t the real you. But I want to give you all the firsts from here on out and never stop them.”

“Elijah—” He puts a finger against my lips to stop me talking.

“Come. It’s our first date. And if you still don’t know about me afterwards, then I’ll leave you be.”

A trembling shake pulses through my entire body. I don’t even know if I can get out of the car. He comes around and opens the door, holding his hand out for me. I take it, grateful for the support.

I don’t know what to think or say. I should be kicking him in the balls and running down the street, but there was something in his tone I just can’t stop clinging to. Can’t stop holding onto like an upturned lifeboat. The same lifeboat we got swept away on weeks before.

Black drapes are across the windows and there are no exhibits in the window displays. The windows look sadly bare without their usual splashes of coloured glass. From around the edge of the black velvet drapes there’s a slither of light.

“What is this?” I ask again. My stomach is in knots; my pulse thudding, loud and insistent.

“Cheese and wine.”

I almost glance for his usual picnic blanket. He’s not a man opposed to popping a bottle of wine in a basket and calling it an evening picnic.

“Elijah.”

“Faith.” His lips curve into a delicious smile and I think for a moment he’s going to kiss me. It hangs there suspended between us. Do I want the kiss? Possibly. Would I kiss him back? More than likely. But my body and its reactions aren’t to be trusted. This is just another example of that.

He turns the handle, opens the door and pulls me through after him into a swathing glow of golden light. The room is draped in black and gold. Shards of glass hang from the ceiling, suspended on thin wires. I’d be jealous of the artist who’d created them, if it wasn’t me. A field of glass flowers delicately tinkle above the heads of people gathered in front of me, hanging like icicles on a cold winter’s day, shades of blue I’d created weeks ago with the students at Bowsley. With my mouth open, my gaze falls onto the faces below the flowers. Elijah steps back, giving me a clear view of Whitlocks showroom.

It’s all my art. Everything.