Then:

“Al’ama,” he swore at himself, shaking his head, tearing himself away, breathing heavily, clearly aroused.

This was not the kind of man he was. This was not the kind of man he wanted to be.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He half walked, half stumbled out of the flat, leaving Lorna breathing hard, furious, desolate, behind him.

Chapter 48

I sla’s mum was waiting up for her when she got back.

“What’s all that nonsense going on there?” she said accusingly.

“It’s the Christmas lights,” said Isla happily, even though she had taken flight when Konstantin had been distracted—of course he had, she told herself. Of course he’d wanted to go talk to someone else. Some gorgeous blonde she’d never seen before. She had scared herself and bolted.

But also, the intensity of it. The sheer hugeness of it had startled her, made her run off like a rabbit. This wasn’t like getting drunk and pulling a Russian sailor. Or getting off with Nobby Parsons at every school disco for long enough that eventually they were kind of technically going out anyway, even if they didn’t have much to say to each other and Nobby spent most of his life playing FIFA, talking about FIFA, and trying to explain FIFA to her.

This was completely different. He was so handsome, so fun, so full of life and ideas and nonsense. And tonight . . .

She wanted to clasp the idea to her heart, turn it over, enjoy thinking about it.

Her mother was looking out the window sourly. “Bloody waste of money if you ask me.”

“Well, I think it was Colton’s money,” said Isla gingerly, which only made her mother sniff harder.

“You’d think he’d have something better to do with it than wasting it on that nonsense.”

“I think he’s done lots of other good things too,” suggested Isla nervously, but that only got another sniff. “I’m going to bed.”

“Nobody will get any sleep with that thing buzzing and giving off electricity,” predicted Vera, who was half right: people got no sleep for many different reasons.

LORNA SOBBED HER heart out on her empty bed, once again feeling as if she was born to be ridiculous, to suffer. That love was meant to be something that people simply found—they found people they liked and they settled down. Look at Ealasaid and Anndra, the bank teller and her husband, who mended dry stone walls. They just seemed to rub on okay, have a bun together every so often, watch their children grown.

Had they ever collapsed fully forward onto the floor in despair of their love for each other? Had they spilled a river of tears? Had they yearned so hard that they were driven half mad with a confused and furious lust?

Perhaps they had.

SAIF GRABBED THE boys by the hands. They were cold and ready for cozy beds, a kiss on the head, and the absolute peace and security that they, he thought bitterly, had had to wait so long for, that had been so hard-won.