The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 48 - Lost

He held the door open for me while I stepped into his lair and dropped my bags on the floor. Then he rushed past me, flicking his keys onto the side table as he did so. The sound of metal on glass made me jump, but he didn't notice. He went straight to the glossy white kitchen in the far corner of the room.

I took in the massive open plan, and the first thing that struck me was how clean and organised it was. I didn't know why I was surprised. He probably had a team of fairies to keep it spotless. Or maybe it was just him and his obsessive-compulsive habits.

The apartment was airy and well lit. It felt cool but not cold. The furniture was sleek and modern, and the grey, black and green hues provided a striking balance between cosy and formal, which somehow seemed very fitting for him.

There was a large dining table surrounded by eight leather chairs in an area to my left. Upon it sat a magnificent green crystal vase that looked as though it had been placed there strategically so that it reflected the backlight coming in from the glass door behind it and cast it onto the walls. The effect was stunning.

I didn't see any corridors or stairs, but there were three doors that opened directly into the living quarters. Two of them were at opposite ends of the dining area. The other was on the far end of the open plan, exactly opposite the front door. Everything about the place was very exact and very symmetrical. Perfect and lean, just like him.

The kitchen was separated from the rest of the living space by a great marble island that was completely bare. In front of it sat a huge U-shaped, charcoal-grey couch that faced a wall-to-wall panoramic window dressed in fine white sheer. There was no TV unit. Only a square coffee table made of the same marble as the island. I walked towards the window and, even in my nonchalant state, found myself gaping at the magnificent view. His unit was on the fifth floor overlooking the open sea. The sky was all shades of orange and pink as the sun rose over the Mediterranean waves. I crossed my arms over my chest and hugged my torso protectively, trying to keep it together.

Jeremy hadn't said a word to me since he found me crouched on the hard wooden bench in the small public garden near the make-up store. I heard him rummaging around behind me, but I didn't have the energy to turn around. I needed to think. I needed to process.

Because how the fuck did I up here? With him? Again!

"How did you find me?" I asked hoarsely. My throat was sore and dry, like I just swallowed a clump of hay.

"With difficulty."

He was angry. But I didn't particularly care. I had crossed the point of caring the minute I found out my boyfriend and my best friend were sleeping together.

"I'll make sure to leave a trail of breadcrumbs the next time I run away," I replied sourly. I heard him sigh heavily, not appreciating my sarcasm.

I could vividly picture his hard, waxy face, his cold, blazing eyes, pursed lips and clenched jaw, nostrils flaring with impatience. I heard a click and the clinking of metal against ceramic.

"Or maybe you can try not switching off your phone," he complained.

I heard the pouring of water. The smell of coffee tarnished the air.

"Stephanie was mad with worry when she saw all your stuff was gone. Did you think about her at all?"

I turned to face him as he smashed the kettle back into its dock and chucked the teaspoon carelessly into the sink. He grabbed two white mugs and walked over to me. One said Good Cop. The other said Bad Cop. He set the Good Cop mug on the coffee table with a loud thud, spilling a little in the process, then went back to the island and leaned casually against it. His stubborn gaze stretched far over the blue horizon, fixed and guarded over his Bad Cop mug.