He didn’t snore. That was good. Then again, the way she was feeling right now, Riley could probably get away with snoring like an angry tractor.
Tula smiled to herself, giddy with wonder and joy. Last night had been, hands down, the single most perfect night of her whole life. This was the happiest she’d ever felt; the connection between Riley and herself was just magical. For the first time she understood what people meant when they said when you know, you know.
And now, amazingly, she knew too.
A muffled ting announced the arrival of a message on Riley’s phone, wherever it was. Following the sound, Tula reached over the edge of the bed and located it on the swirly carpet beneath randomly discarded clothes.
She wasn’t being nosy; it was just normal human instinct—if there were words on a screen it was hard not to glance at them. Especially when they came from Marguerite.
Mission accomplished? Result! Makes it all worthwhile. Xx
Amused, Tula put the phone on the rickety bedside table. Honestly, what was Marguerite like? Once she had her mind set on something, there was no stopping her.
It was almost seven in the morning. Riley was still fast asleep, hardly surprisingly after the night they’d had. The only reason she’d woken up was because she was bursting for the bathroom.
Maybe she’d have a shower too, while she had the chance…
The thought occurred to Tula halfway through her shower.
Mission accomplished? Result! Makes it all worthwhile.
Around midnight last night, Riley had admitted that it hadn’t only been her guilty conscience that had prompted Marguerite’s shocking confession. She’d done it for him. Which had been a pretty major deal to come to terms with, but at the same time it did make sense that she should have come clean. It was only right that sooner or later the truth should come out.
Last night it hadn’t occurred to Tula to question it. Now, her brain buzzing with fresh doubt, she stood motionless and let the water stream over her as an alternative scenario presented itself.
Oh God, oh God. Sick with fear, she examined the possibility. Please don’t let it be true.
Surely it couldn’t be.
But when you were up against someone as determined and unstoppable as Marguerite Marshall, nothing was beyond the realms of possibility.
Because Marguerite adored her beloved nephew; everyone knew that. Basically she worshipped the ground Riley walked on. So…what if she were only pretending to have lost the ability to write her books? Had they cooked up this whole charade between them purely in order to make her, Tula, believe that Riley Bryant wasn’t a world-class shirker after all?
Tula was seized with panic. Okay, breathe slowly, get a grip. It was, she knew, a far-fetched and completely ridiculous idea. But the trouble was, now she’d thought of it, there was no way of unthinking it. As mad and out-there as it might seem, it was now lodged in her brain.
Needing time to think, and desperate not to wake Riley, Tula dressed, let herself quietly out of the bedroom, and ran downstairs. Out of change for the vending machine, she left the hotel and picked up bottled water and a packet of cookies from the newsagent’s next door.
Too confused to go back to the room, she began to walk. Okay, there didn’t appear to be any way of finding out the truth. If she asked Riley, he would only reiterate what he’d already told her.
As would Marguerite.
And they’d already announced that no one else had been aware of their deception. Which meant, basically, that there was no way in the world of proving that they weren’t lying.
And if this sounded like a wild hypothesis… Well, it actually wasn’t as far-fetched as the idea that Riley had been writing Marguerite’s books in the first place.
The trouble was, short of physically tying him to a chair and standing over him forcing him to write…
Tula felt sick. Oh God, had it all been a ruse? Please don’t let this be true…
She’d been wandering in a daze and had now reached Westminster Bridge. It was seven forty and the height of the rush hour. Traffic clogged the road across the bridge and the walkways on either side were full of people in smart business suits hurrying to work. Everyone was preoccupied, in commuter mode, either concentrating on their cell phones or lost in the music feeding into their brains via headphones.
With her wet hair, white lacy sundress, and lime-green flip-flops, Tula realized, she wasn’t dressed like anyone else. As always, she was the odd one out. Where was she even headed, anyway? How was aimless wandering going to help? All these busy people surrounding her, tutting with annoyance because she’d now stopped walking and was getting in their way—were any of them as muddled and conflicted as she was? And what was that? Oh God, her phone… Was this Riley calling to find out why she’d done an early morning runner?
Tula fished the phone out of her bra, earning herself a look of disgust from an immaculate brunette with a brown leather briefcase that exactly matched her sensible hair and shoes.
Then she exhaled with relief, because the incoming call was from Sophie.
Tula moved out of the way of the steamroller tide of commuters, leaned against the bridge’s green-painted balustrade and said, “Hi, you.”
Because Sophie was good to have around in a crisis. Maybe she’d be able to help and advise her, even though there was obviously no way of answering the unanswerable question about whether or not Riley had—
“OH MY GOD,” Sophie bellowed down the phone from Cornwall. “I was out working last night and I completely missed the show! Hazel from next door just called in to borrow some milk and she told me all about what happened! Were you there in the studio when Marguerite said it? Can you believe it’s been going on for so long? Isn’t it just completely brilliant?”
Hmm. Brilliant if it’s true.
Tula gazed across the river at the London Eye. Prevaricating, she said, “In what way?”
“Because Riley’s crazy about you and you really like him too but you didn’t want to be stuck with a no-hoper…except he isn’t,” Sophie exclaimed triumphantly. “He’s been working his socks off all this time, just to help Marguerite out. Which makes him even more perfect. Just think, slogging away, putting in all those hours, and getting none of the recognition.”
“I suppose so…”
“Oh, come on! Don’t you see? It’s like a dream come true for you!”
Oh God, and now she was going to have to confide her doubts to Sophie, like the world’s biggest spoilsport. Tula pressed the phone to her ear, gazed up at the Houses of Parliament, and said miserably, “I know, but the thing is, what if—”
“And it’s a relief for me too,” Sophie blurted out. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty anymore about not telling you!”
A fat businessman shoved past, almost sending Tula flying. Regaining her balance, she said, “Not telling me about what?”
“I knew! I found out two weeks ago! And I knew it was a secret and I couldn’t breathe a word to anyone, but I really wanted you to know because it would make all the difference. But now it’s okay; everyone knows!”
Sophie had what? She’d known the truth? Tula’s head swam with disbelief. Stunned, she said, “How…but how did you find out?”
“It was when Marguerite asked me to take photos of that mystery bird in her garden. Riley didn’t know I was there. He was working on the computer in Marguerite’s office… I had a long lens on my camera and I saw what he was doing. Well, obviously I thought at first I was having some sort of hallucination, but I wasn’t. It was actually true. What’s that noise?” Sophie said abruptly. “Are you sniffing? Have you got a cold?”
On Westminster Bridge, with no tissue to wipe away the tears streaming down her face, Tula had to do the best she could with her free hand. “I’m fine. Just…h-happy. So happy you can’t imagine.” Oh help, and now her nose was running too; talk about the epitome of glamour.
“Good, I’m glad.” Sophie sounded as if she was smiling now. “If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”
***
“You went away.” Riley was sitting up in bed when she arrived back at the hotel ten minutes later.
“And now I’m here again.”
“I woke up all on my own and didn’t know where you’d gone.” He drew her onto the bed beside him. “Never do that to me again.”
Tula breathed in the scent of him. “I won’t.” Oh God, his skin smelled irresistible.
“Where were you?”
“I went to buy us some water and biscuits for breakfast. And then I ate them. Sorry.”
“This is a terrible hotel. I don’t want to stay here anymore.” Riley kissed her. “Let’s check out and go and see how Marguerite is this morning. Then once she’s gone downstairs to breakfast…”
There followed a meaningful pause. Tula looked at him and said innocently, “Catch up on some sleep?”
“Hey, it’s the Savoy.” Riley’s smile was equally innocent. “And the beds don’t creak. We can do whatever we like.”