Page 60 of Under Your Spell

‘That’s nice,’ I say, trying not to be thrown by this bizarre image. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever managed to stay friends with an ex.’

‘I’m guessing you’ve been going out with the wrong kind of men.’

‘Not sure there’s a right kind at this point,’ I grumble.

Theo treats me to a simmering look.

‘Focus on the food, please,’ I say. I don’t think he can go too wrong with stirring, but with Theo you never know what culinary disaster will occur next.

‘Anyway,’ Theo says, ‘Cynthie wanted to give us a heads up: she had a call from one of the tabloids, reaching out for comment on a story about me being in rehab.’

‘Rehab?’ I feel my eyes widen in surprise.

‘Apparently the fact I’ve been totally off the grid for four weeks has people speculating. They don’t know where I am so they’ve decided I’ve been shipped off for treatment somewhere. Probably got a “source” claiming to be a close friend to say how sad it all is.’

‘That’s outrageous!’ I exclaim. ‘They can’t just print whatever they want…’ I trail off, and my stomach lurches because I know first-hand that they absolutely can. They can and do print lies about people all the time. They did it to me.

‘It’s not a big deal,’ Theo shrugs. ‘If they want to write that, it’s fine with me – let them think I’m in rehab if it means they leave me alone, but the problem is that the paparazzi have got a little mystery on their hands and I’m worried they’re going to put some effort into solving it.’

‘You’re worried they’ll find you here?’

He stops stirring. ‘Let’s just say, I’d rather they didn’t.’

‘Yeah, me too.’ I shiver.

‘So we’ll just be a little more careful, right?’ Theo says, and I hear the edge of anxiety in his voice.

‘No leaving the house without your false moustache,’ I say weakly.

I’m glad when he smiles. ‘And my rubber nose.’

‘Okay,’ I agree. ‘Now move out the way because somehow you actually are managing to burn the sauce.’

With that we go back to our evening. Although we don’t talk about the paparazzi again, the conversation about them lingers like a bitter taste on my tongue. The thought of them intruding here, into this place, this magic slice of time Theo and I have somehow carved out together – it stings.

We have less than two weeks left here now, and I don’t like how sad that thought makes me. I don’t like how much, if I’m really honest with myself, I’d like to stay here, in this bubble, for a long, long time. I don’t like how much of that is about being with Theo. So I push those feelings firmly aside and do what I do best: pretend nothing is wrong.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next day we’re both working in the living room, complaining about the heat, when the doorbell goes. ‘Must be a delivery,’ I say, getting to my feet.

‘Oooh, I hope it’s those Pop Tarts we ordered.’ Theo’s head lifts.

‘You ordered,’ I say. ‘If David ever finds out about those, I already told you: I’m not going down for your crimes.’

‘You’d take a bullet for me, Clemmie. Don’t pretend otherwise.’

‘A bullet? Maybe. The wrath of David?’ I lift my eyebrows. ‘Think again, sucker.’

Honestly, I am slightly concerned that introducing him to the online American grocery store was a mistake. I tried not to freak out too hard when he put over £300 worth of extremely unnatural flavourings in his basket, paying for it with a black credit card that looked like it was made of some material mined from an alien planet.

But when I cautiously check the door cam, it’s not a Pop Tart delivery, it’s Lil.

‘Surpriiiiiiise!’ she yells, throwing herself at me.

‘Lil!’ I exclaim, squeezing her tight, all wrapped up in her familiar sandalwood perfume. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I had a gig in Newcastle last night,’ Lil says, moving past me and looking around herself with interest. ‘I thought I’d come up and say hi in person. I missed your face.’