Vaughn’s sarcasm, as ever, verged on the sublime and Grace winced. It was as if he had been waiting for any reaction from her to snap him out of his fugue state because he was at her side in three angry strides, or would have been if Grace wasn’t darting away in panic.
She made sure that the sofa was between them before she said, ‘Vaughn, really, it’s no big deal. If it had happened next week instead of this week, I’d have been out of your hair, or free from contractual obligation, y’know? OK, I should have—’
‘Shut up!’ Vaughn was at her side so fast that Grace wasn’t sure how he’d managed it, his hands wrapping round her wrists in a bruising grip, so he could haul her closer in a parody of every time he’d done just that so he could kiss her. ‘It’s a bloody big deal, Grace, to kiss me and whisper all those breathy words as you wrapped yourself around me, then go to his bed and do the same tired, old routine. Or did you mean it when you told Noah that he was the best fuck you’d ever had? That no one had ever made you come so hard and so often?’
Grace tried to wrench her hands free so she could clamp them over her ears, but Vaughn refused to let her go, pressing down harder so she cried out as he dragged her towards the sofa and forced her into a sitting position. ‘I never fucked him. I swear!’
‘When did it start? After the party? Or was it going on before then?’ Vaughn finally released her wrists, but it was just a momentary respite, so he could sit down next to her and cup her face in his hands. Grace could feel the tremor in his fingers, as if Vaughn was just itching to snap her neck. She forced herself to stay very still and look him right in the eyes.
That was when she started crying, because Vaughn’s eyes weren’t angry. She could see the hurt lodged there, and the way he cringed from her gaze, like a wounded animal. She’d been on the receiving end of that kind of agony often enough to know how wretched it felt. Like someone had taken out your heart, kicked it around for a few hours and then shoved it back in your chest.
‘I didn’t . . . I never have,’ she began. ‘Please, just listen to me and let me tell you what happened. Just be quiet and don’t say anything, OK?’
Vaughn nodded and his hands fell away as if he couldn’t bear to touch her, and that was all right. He was allowed to feel like that. Grace wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and falteringly began to describe what had happened that evening, going into detail about the decaying flowers and drinking red wine out of tea-stained mugs because she needed to make Vaughn know that she wasn’t lying. If there were silly, inconsequential details, not even a second left unaccounted for, he’d know she was telling the truth.
Vaughn put his head in his hands as Grace described what had happened on another sofa, the kisses and the clumsy groping and her top coming off. ‘We didn’t have sex. I thought about it but I couldn’t go through with it because he wasn’t you, and—’
‘That’s not quite true, though I applaud your efforts to try and make me feel included,’ Vaughn said hollowly. ‘If you really ran into the night, with your jeans around your ankles, which I very much doubt, it was because you realised that Noah wasn’t going to be the meal-ticket that you thought he was. He was very clear about that. You told him he wasn’t rich enough or useful enough.’
‘That’s not what happened! I told him why it was a bad idea and I apologised over and over again,’ Grace insisted shrilly. ‘Then he got really angry and threatened to tell you.’
‘Well, he didn’t share that part with me. He was too busy rhapsodising about your oral skills. Sadly, I have to agree with him on that score.’
‘If he was such an expert on my technique, went into so much detail, then you have to know he was lying. Because I didn’t even come close to doing that with him! But you . . . you know what I do. How I start, the noises I make, what I do with my hands when you first moan. Every time, Vaughn! So if Noah gave you a play by play, then you know it was bullshit because you’ve had enough blowjobs from me - and don’t tell me you can’t remember every single one.’
There was just the merest flicker of doubt in Vaughn’s eyes but it was something, and Grace was just about to try and press her advantage when the light died. ‘But you went round there in the first place, even after I’d made my feelings about you and Noah perfectly clear.’
‘You utter fucking bastard!’ It flew out of her mouth at the exact same moment that Grace remembered why she’d gone round to Noah’s studio. Vaughn wasn’t the injured party,
she
was. ‘I went round there because I was miserable and I wanted to get some answers because you dumped me without any proper explanation. I’ve felt like shit these last few weeks, but you just expected me to deal with it, and when I couldn’t you told me I was acting like a child. So fuck you, I wish I had fucked him!’
Vaughn opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again when the words deserted him. They sat there in silence for a while, broken only by an occasional sniff from Grace as she dabbed at her eyes until Vaughn got up and walked over to the mini-bar, took out a miniature of Absolut and started fixing Grace a vodka and tonic, which he handed to her along with a box of tissues.
Then he sat down and shot her an imploring glance. ‘Grace, this is why we have to end things. You’ve become so emotionally attached. Really, you’ll thank me for it one day.’
Grace glared at him, her eyes still glassy with unshed tears. ‘I’m not emotionally attached,’ she denied in a throbbing voice. ‘I go through phases of liking you, but believe me, you
always
do something to make me change my mind.’
‘So, it’s just my money that you don’t want to be parted from?’ Vaughn asked harshly. ‘Is that what’s behind the hysterics and the inability to find a flat?’
It was lower than a snake’s belly and a perfect example of how Vaughn could say the most hateful things and force Grace to change direction mid-course. ‘So, when all else fails, you accuse me of being a whore? Well, what the hell does that make
you
?’
‘I’m not . . . that’s not what I meant.’ Vaughn was floundering, on his feet again so he could pace. ‘This is impossible.
You’re
impossible.’
‘Yeah, I’m impossible because I actually have feelings and opinions, instead of just smiling, organising place-settings and catering to your every whim,’ Grace said bitterly. ‘And FYI, I didn’t fuck Noah but if you’re not emotionally attached then why does the thought of it make you so angry? I’ll tell you why: because you think I’m something you’ve bought, like one of your lame pieces of art, and God forbid anyone else should be allowed to play with it.’
‘I don’t know what you want from me,’ Vaughn said, and she could hear the panic in his voice, as if he wasn’t confronted by painful home truths very often. ‘I can’t do this,’ he added, standing up and walking out.
Grace sat on the sofa and watched the hands of the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece slowly mark out an hour and knew that Vaughn wasn’t coming back. It was probably just as well. There was nothing left to be said. In fact, they both needed to shut up and let an impartial third party knock some sense into them, because God knows, it seemed to be in very short supply.
She got to her feet, moving carefully, and started getting ready to leave Vaughn thirty-one hours ahead of schedule. Grace neatly folded clothes, put her shoes into dust bags and then took everything out and started again when she realised she’d neatly balled up all of Vaughn’s clean socks and packed them too. She wasn’t trying to split the atom here, just pack a freaking suitcase, but she was sinking to the floor because it was all too much. Just too much.
Grace was still lying there, staring into space and clutching one of her Louboutins like it was a favourite teddy bear because there didn’t seem to be any room for it in her case, when Vaughn burst into the room, wild-eyed and sopping wet.
‘You’re absolutely soaked, what have you . . . ?’
‘You’re wrong, you know . . .’
They were both talking over each other. Grace struggled into a sitting position so she could get a proper look at Vaughn. He was dripping on to the carpet, the black shirt he was wearing was plastered to his chest, jeans stiff and water-logged, and his hair had flattened under the onslaught of a heavy shower. Grace glanced out of the window at the rain still streaming down so it was impossible to see anything other than grey.
‘Where have you been?’
Vaughn grimaced as his wet shirt chafed against him. ‘I went for a walk.’
‘Without a coat in a bloody monsoon? You need a hot bath.’ Grace let Vaughn pull her to her feet. ‘You’re going to catch your death.’ She really hated it when she sounded like her grandmother.
Vaughn ignored her and prodded her case with his foot. ‘You were planning your escape?’
‘Well, yeah. I’ve booked a room at the Eldorado.’ She tried to stand up straight and look purposeful, even though all of her wanted to slump. ‘It’s better to do it this way, instead of dragging it out and saying a whole bunch of stuff that we’ll regret.’
Vaughn was already opening his mouth to probably say a whole bunch of stuff that Grace would definitely regret so she pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘Christ, will you go and apply huge amounts of hot water to yourself? You’re freezing.’
‘I don’t want you to go, Grace,’ Vaughn insisted, trying to catch her hands as she stepped away. ‘I need to talk to you.’
She was already rifling through the clothes she’d unpacked for him and sorting out a fresh outfit. ‘I thought we were done talking,’ Grace said, but she was following Vaughn into the bathroom as he turned on the taps and started pulling off his sodden clothes.
The only sound was the gushing taps, which filled up the tub in record time so Vaughn could ease himself into the hot water, then immerse himself completely, ducking under the surface so Grace had time to put down the lid and sit on the toilet, before he emerged, spluttering and shaking his head. ‘You have no idea how I really feel about you,’ Vaughn said.
‘You don’t feel much of anything for me. Isn’t that the whole point? I was part of a masterplan. Just convenient,’ Grace said dully, and the pain that had died away got up and roared again.
‘Hardly. You’re the most inconvenient woman I’ve ever met.’ Grace thought they were all set to start the next part of the Big Breaking Up Row. In her experience, there were usually several acts, but Vaughn suddenly sighed. ‘I’m not doing this while I’m naked. Will you order me some coffee and stay put until I’m finished?’
‘But I have a—’
‘Just do as you’re told.’ Even naked in the tub, with his hair tuftier than usual, Vaughn could still get this you-will-obey-me edge to his voice that made Grace want to click her heels and salute. With a baleful glare, she left.
Grace was going to order coffee, then sneak out. But when Vaughn came out of the bathroom, dressed in the jeans and jumper she’d picked out, she was perched nervously on the very edge of one of the sofas. ‘Coffee’s here,’ she said, her voice all squeaky, because Vaughn was looking more self-assured, less vulnerable. ‘I ordered one of those giant eclairs you had last time.’
‘I’ll have mine black,’ Vaughn said, sitting down next to her and crossing his legs. ‘You should have a cup too. You look tired.’
Grace didn’t want a cup of coffee and she didn’t want to prolong the agony for a second longer than she had to, but she found herself carefully pouring out two cups, even nibbling on half the éclair, which Vaughn had cut in two. Really, they should have ended it like they started it, with champagne, she thought.
‘You were right, you weren’t my first choice,’ Vaughn said, à propos of bloody nothing. ‘You were just an amusing diversion one afternoon - a damsel in distress. I could tell from that first moment in Liberty’s that you were too young. I should have left well alone and certainly not taken you to my club, and as for sending you that bloody Marc Jacobs bag, I don’t know what I was thinking.’
Grace gasped in shock because she’d hoped Vaughn had asked her to stay so he could try to salvage what was left of the weekend, not start the post mortem. ‘Gee, thanks,’ she snapped.
‘But you’ve made me so happy, Grace.’ She looked at him warily. ‘And that was never part of the agreement.’
It was such a bittersweet thing to say that Grace found herself clutching one of Vaughn’s hands. He let her twine her fingers around his. ‘I’m so sorry about the thing with Noah; that I hurt you.’
‘I didn’t even know I could be hurt. I thought I’d managed to rid myself of that nasty little habit,’ Vaughn said, with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘It’s been quite a revelation to discover that the thought of you and him together can make me feel like . . .’