But perhaps he’d taken the hint now. Maybe she wouldn’t hear from Dylan anymore. She couldn’t have been any clearer that they were over.

“Try Hot Guy, I mean James again.” Brendon nodded at the phone as he tickled Gucci’s chin. “He’ll probably answer now. But word it carefully. Tell him Dylan is out of your life now but it took that crunch moment to make it happen.” He paused and waggled his perfectly arched eyebrows. “Tell him to come round and you’ll show him just how sorry you are that he had to see the whole thing.”

The thought of making up with James was very appealing. “Good idea,” she said, hitting redial.

Again she listened to the ringing. Each time she heard the sound, her heart sank. He wasn’t going to pick up.

She shook her head when it went to message and ended the call.

“Seems he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Give him a while, he’s probably driving.” Brendon patted the sofa. “Come and sit here.”

Megan snuggled against him, glad that she had Brendon there with her. If she didn’t have him she’d go to pieces.

“I’ll try him again later. It takes about twenty minutes to get from his place to here.”

“There you go, that’s all it is.” Brendon rubbed her shoulder. “Try again in twenty minutes, have a chat and all will be right as rain.”

Megan sighed. She certainly hoped so, because right now, it felt as though her world was crashing down, which was a crying shame because only an hour ago it had all been so bright and exciting.

Damn Dylan and his thick head, stubbornness and delusions that she’d ever consider taking him back. He’d gone and ruined everything.

Chapter Eighteen

Megan tried to call James seven more times over the course of the evening but there was never any answer. Just his message service.

She heeded Brendon’s advice—even after he’d gone home and she pressed the phone to her ear one last time, listened to the ringing then James’ deep voice—and didn’t leave a message.

Eventually she went to bed, exhausted not just from a busy day but also from an emotionally wrought evening.

She’d just pulled off her clothes and slipped into bed when an idea came to her. Should she go to his house? It wouldn’t take long to get dressed again, jump in a cab and get there. Then she could explain everything, smooth it over, make it okay.