“Brendon…” She sighed. “Oh what does it matter anyway? He’s obviously gone. How could this be so messed up?”

She had a sudden urge to check and went to the window. She pulled the curtain aside and glanced out. The path was empty, the usual row of parked cars and an empty space beneath a street lamp a little way to the right. She spotted a jogger running past with a flashing red head torch.

“God, this is such a nightmare,” she said, casting her gaze over the lawn then peering into the shadows. She hoped Dylan wasn’t lurking in the dark, watching her, waiting for her. Willing her to slip up again and leave the door open, a window ajar. Biding his time till she stepped out of the house, which she’d have to at some point. She couldn’t stay in forever.

She shuddered. How could they have been so close, so intimate and all set to spend their lives together then have the relationship turned upside down so quickly? Everything about it filled her with regret and, if she was honest now, fear.

A memory of the shadowy alcoves near her office flooded back to her. Had that been Dylan? Had he loitered in the dark corners waiting to get a glimpse of her, maybe speak to her, or worse?

A lump of nausea twisted her guts.

She snapped the curtain back into place and drew her fingers along it to make sure it was absolutely shut, not a crack of light escaping.

Dylan wouldn’t do that surely. He had better things to do like going to the gym, getting legless with his mates, getting stupid tattoos.

But what if…?

She turned back to Brendon and pulled in a deep breath.

“You okay, sweetpea?” He looked concerned.

“Yes.” She nodded, a little over enthusiastically. “Yes. I need to sort this out. I can’t just let James leave like that, we had something…special, I’m sure of it.” She puffed up her chest.

“Oh, good, your fighting spirit has returned.” He grinned then knocked back more wine. “Good stuff this.”

“Yes. It is.” Megan strode to the table and took a gulp of her wine too. “Right,” she said, then licked her lips. “Damage control.” She glanced around.

“Oh, oh, I remember now,” Brendon said, bouncing a little on the sofa and rubbing his hands together. “Hot Guy did say something…”

“What? What did he say?” Megan held her palms out. How could Brendon have neglected to tell her this?

“He said, sorry, you know, sorry, go ahead, or something like that to me and Gucci as we ran past him. I only just heard, we were going so fast, speed of sound and all that.”

“Oh, is that it?” She was disappointed. “He just said sorry.”

“Yes, sorry.” He shrugged. “Well, I thought you should know.”