Page 146 of Take Me Away

I step back. Open the door wider.

‘Come in.’

Chapter Thirty-Four

KIT

The apartment is exactly what I expected and nothing like I hoped.

White walls. White furniture. White everything. Like someone bought the most expensive version of nothing and called it a home. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Hampstead Heath, the kind of view that probably costs more per month than I make in a year.

Art on the walls that looks expensive but says nothing. Books on shelves that have never been read, spines too perfect, arranged by colour like a fucking Instagram post.

There’s no mess. No personality. No photos of family or friends. No half-drunk cups of tea or shoes kicked off by the door or mail piled on the counter.

It’s a shell.

A beautiful, expensive shell where Isla Quinn has been living but not alive.

The only sign someone actually exists here is the laptop open on the coffee table and a plate of pastries that look three days old.

And Isla herself, standing in the middle of it all in my old T-shirt – Christ, that’s my shirt, the one I thought I’d lost – looking like she hasn’t slept or eaten or moved since she left my bed.

Maisie’s already wandered to the bookshelves, running her fingers along the spines. ‘Isla, you have so many books! Have you read all of them?’

‘Some,’ Isla says quietly. Her arms are wrapped around herself. Defensive. Scared.

She should be.

I’m not here to make this easy.

‘You left Sea Salt Bay to come and find me?’ she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

‘Yes.’

‘You drove all this way⁠—’

‘Yes.’

‘Kit, you didn’t have to⁠—’

‘I did.’ I step closer. Not touching her yet. Not trusting myself to. ‘I told you I loved you, Isla. And I meant it. But now you’ve got to start giving me the truth.’

Her eyes dart to Maisie, still examining books. ‘I can’t.’

‘Yeah, you can.’

‘Not with—’ She gestures helplessly towards my little sidekick, the same sidekick who ate all the shortbread Nina provided us with and pointed out every yellow car she saw on a drive that took four hours and forty-five minutes.

Fine.

‘Mais,’ I call over. ‘Why don’t you go explore the rest of the flat? Maybe there’s a bedroom with a good view?’

Maisie looks between us, that too-smart expression on her face. ‘Are you going to argue?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Are you going to make Isla come home?’