“We spoke on the phone the next day. Everything was said, there’s nothing more to talk about.” She put her hand in her jacket pocket and unlocked her iPhone, hoping Dylan wouldn’t notice the movement. “You need to move on with your life. I am.”

“How did I know you’d say that?” He rolled his eyes.

“Because it’s the truth.”

“No, it’s not. I have no life now. You need to listen to me and believe me when I say I can make you happy. We are meant to be. Dylan and Megan Dunkin-Buckshaw, that’s how it should be and it still can be. I need you to give me a second chance.”

Megan shook her head and turned. She walked past the window to the fridge and opened the door. “Do you want a drink?”

“A Stella, if you have one.”

How predictable.

As she reached into the fridge she pulled out her iPhone. She pretended to fuss for a moment getting a beer from packaging, yet she quickly texted Brendon.

Come quick. D here!!!!!

She hit send and plucked a bottle of Stella from the shelf, leaving the phone in the fridge to avoid risking Dylan seeing it when she removed her hand. “Here.” She popped the lid, set the bottle on the island and glanced outside. It was getting dark, the cars on the road had their headlights on and glowed amber through the dusk.

She hoped Brendon wouldn’t be long. He wasn’t the toughest bloke, but right now it was the best she could do. Plus he was only a couple of minutes away, providing he was home, that was, and not still at the studio or out on a job.

James? Should she text James?

No. He didn’t even know about Dylan and introducing her new boyfriend right now into this situation—with that manic look Dylan had in his eyes—it wouldn’t go down well.

Besides, James only just thought she was the right side of sane as it was. Him finding out about Dylan would put him off forever. And that was the last thing she wanted.

Dylan walked from the doorway and farther into the room. She hoped he’d stay on the other side of the island but he didn’t, he came around it and crowded her against the sink.

“Honeypie,” he said, coming close. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Megan gripped the counter behind her and pressed her bum against it, wishing she could make herself small, disappear even. That she could be anywhere but here.

Dylan ran the back of his index finger down her cheek.

“Don’t,” she said, as a quiver of distaste shot through her nerves. “And don’t call me that.”