Incapable (Love Triumphs 3)

“You think it’s fun to do this to me.”

“I think it’s what you need to do so you can test how you feel. And if needs be, move on. It’s like visiting the scene of the crime and seeing it’s not as scary as you’d made it out to be.”

She reached forward, snatched the post-it from his hand and slapped it back on his forehead. “Good God, you even talk like a therapist now.”

He laughed. “I suppose you could go out. Just not be here when he arrives.”

“Oh, you’d like that. You’d get to complete your stalking exercise in person.”

“I wouldn’t interrogate him.”

“You mean you wouldn’t use thumbscrews.”

“All right. I would interrogate him, but only about, well, you. Maybe your sex life. I’m desperate to know about that.”

“It’s not happening.” She held her phone out to him. “Call him and tell him not to come.”

He ignored her outstretched hand. “Why are you so panicked about this? Why aren’t you chomping at the bit to smack his semi-famous arse for dumping you? He’s very obviously coming to grovel. He flew halfway around the world to grovel, that’s class act grovelling. I’m somewhat impressed.”

“I’m not panicked about it. I just don’t need to see him. It’s been two months. Why does he want to see me now?”

“Why don’t you want to see him?”

“Airport, dumped, duped, miserable, arsehole.”

“See, you do want to see him.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I love the way you tell me how you feel. It’s like the old days, before we were married. It’s so exciting. I can’t wait to hear what you have to say when I tell you the other news.”

“What other news?”

He waved the post-it. “I lied.”

She gripped the kitchen counter. “He’s not coming? Why would you tell me he was? All that class act grovelling, all that being impressed.” She sighed. Hamish had a stupid look on his face. “This isn’t funny.”

“It should be. Now why is it you don’t look happy?”

“Because you gave me a heart attack.”

“Because you really do want to see him.”

She glared at him. He was right. She was terrified of seeing Damon again and devastated she wasn’t going to get the chance. “What’s wrong with me?

“Question for a therapist.”

The doorbell rang. She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. Two minutes to ten. She looked at Hamish. “What did you lie about?”

“You know how I can get so easily confused.”

Oh dear God. “Your house,” she pointed towards the front door, “you get that.”

Hamish lurched for a dinning chair and slumped into it. “I find myself indisposed.”

She stomped past him up the hall. Whoever was collecting, or selling, or hoping to put God in her life was going to get a dose of Godlessness to rock them. A lesson out of Taylor’s book.

“Georgie.”