I get a buzzing sound in my head and I’m not sure if it’s real or if it’s my brain’s way of blocking out what they’re saying.

“Do your window up, George,” Benny orders, but instead I continue to stare out of the two-inch gap, into the real world, the world outside of my perfect little bubble of love I’ve been living in for these past six months. I stare out at the world and listen to the words that cause my heart, the one that Cam has so lovingly, so patiently, brick by brick, helped me rebuild, to slowly start to crumble once more into a broken pile of rubble.

Ben must use the button on his side and the gap in the window closes.

“Take no notice of them, George. I know him. He wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t see other women as women. They’re all just people to him. You’re the only woman on the planet as far as he’s concerned, believe me, George.” I turn and look at him. It’s a good thing I didn’t have time to stop for lunch today because Benny would be about to wear it. I cover my mouth with my hand as I dry heave.

“Get me out of here, Ben,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “Na, George, let’s just go inside and we’ll wait for Cam and let him explain for himself what’s going on.”

“Get me out of here now, Ben.”

“How about you come to the airport with me and we meet him there together, George,‘ay? How bout we do that, sweetheart?” I shake my head, my phone rings and its Tamara’s name showing up on the caller ID. Cam gave me her number in case there was an emergency and he must’ve given mine to her.

“Hello?”

“You really thought you had it all worked out, didn’t you? You really thought that he would change for you? He won’t change for anyone, but he will come back to me. He’ll always come back to me.” I end the call with a shaky hand and turn my phone to silent. I close my eyes for a few seconds and try to think. I need somewhere to go, somewhere to be alone, somewhere the press won’t be waiting for me. I take a deep breath.

“Ben, will you please take me back to the city? I wanna go to the loft. You can drop me there, please.”

“George…”

“Ben, if you don’t start driving I’ll get out and start walking, now drive the fucking car.”

“What loft, George?”

Shit, I’ve not been there since Sean died. Cam knows about it, but we’ve never been there. It’s Sean’s place. I would never take Cam there.

I give Benny directions and we drive in silence back into the city. I turn off the radio. I’m not in the mood for music right now, so I sit and lose myself in my own twisted thoughts and overactive imagination.

I know by coming here that I’m reverting and doing what I’ve always done in the past. But running away is just how I cope when things feel out of my control. Running away is my choice. Something I’ve chosen to do, therefore putting me back in control.

Benny opens my door. We’ve stopped outside the old warehouse and I didn’t even realise it. Benny’s top lip is sweating and I know it’s not from the afternoon sunshine.

“Ben, look, I know you need to do your job and tell him where you dropped me, but please tell him not to come here expecting to see me. Tell him to let me have some space and I’ll talk to him when I’m ready.” Benny lets out a big huff.

“I can try, George, but that big fucker don’t see sense where you’re concerned. He’ll be here, and he’ll bang that door down till he gets to you. Mark my words, girl, he won’t leave till he sees ya.”

I say nothing, kiss Benny on the cheek and turn and tap my number into the security doors. I put my hand up in acknowledgement to the two doormen in the office and head for the lift.

* * *

I step inside the apartment and know in an instant this is wrong. I’ve done the wrong thing coming here. This is Sean’s place. Me coming here is going to hurt Cam and I’ve done it without even waiting to hear his side of the story. I did that once before with Sean and it cost us four precious years.

I pull out my phone and call for a cab to come and fetch me to take me to Cam’s apartment. It’s just ten minutes away and I could walk, but I’m worried about the paps.

I go back downstairs and wait in the lobby for the cab to arrive. It’s a big black London taxi and the driver reminds me of my Uncle Finn. I talk to him through the window and explain that I need to get into my apartment block, but the press might be waiting for me. Once he realises who I am, he agrees to help me out. I give him the code to the underground car park and he gives me his jacket and tells me to get down in the foot well in the front of the cab. If the photographers don’t see anyone in the back, they will assume his cab is empty. He also leaves his ‘for hire’ sign on, just to help me out a bit more.

The cabbie's name is Don and he tells me that he knows my dad. He has a drink with him in the Boleyn Pub on Green Street before a West Ham game sometimes. Apparently, they went to school together.

He talks me through every street and tells me there are four photographers on the street outside the apartment block. I hear him tap in the code and we drive into the underground parking garage.

“Right, love, I’ve got ya as close to the doors as I can. I’ve parked so the passenger door opens up straight on the path. I’ll come round and let ya out. I can’t see any of them arsehole reporters, but ya never know where they might be lurking.”

I pull Don’s jacket from over my head.

“Thanks so much, Don. How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart. You just get in there safe and tell your ol’ man he owes Don Weeks a drink when he next sees him.”

He comes around and opens the passenger door. I climb out, swipe my security card into the box and tap in the code.

“Thanks so much, Don,” I tell him as he waits to make sure I get in safely. I will pay him and I will make sure he gets a bloody big tip too.

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart. Be lucky and I hope you get all this sorted and them scum leave you alone. It’s a crying bloody shame what they’re allowed to get away with. Leave ‘em down a dark alley with your dad and Uncle Finn and they wouldn’t be so brave. I can tell ya.” For some reason, this makes me give him a quick peck on the cheek as I step inside the small lobby of Cam’s apartment block. Because he owns the penthouse, he has his own lift so I swipe my card again and the doors open instantly.

As soon as I’m up and in the apartment, I start to shake. My jaw is so tense; it’s making my temples ache, but as the shaking gets worse, my teeth begin to rattle. I head to the kitchen and pour myself a wine.

The apartment has been left exactly as if we were still living here. We still use it and stay here if we’ve been working late and can’t be bothered to go back to Essex, and I’ve stayed here twice since Cam’s been away, rather than stay in our huge new home on my own. I gulp down my wine, then head upstairs for a shower.

I let the water hit me from every angle and try to get my thoughts into order. Cam loves me, of that I am one hundred percent sure, but he likes sex, a lot. I have no idea at what age men’s sex drive starts to reduce, but at forty-two, Cam likes sex every day, twice a day, sometimes three times. He doesn’t bring me to a toe curling orgasm every time; my sex life isn’t some make-believe novel where the leading lady constantly has multiple orgasms. Sometimes it happens; occasionally, it doesn’t, but I love it regardless. I love the connection it gives us. I don’t tell Cam when I don’t come. He worries and thinks it’s his fault, so I do what I assume most women do and fake it, and to be honest, I feel like a bit of a freak because he does make me come so often.

My brain goes into overdrive as I start to overthink things. What if he’s done this as revenge for when I left him for Sean or for when we fucked and I refused to leave Sean afterwards? Do I have any right to be angry? I fucked Cam behind my husband’s back. Isn’t this just that bitch Karma, seeking her revenge?  But this is Cam. Would he do this to me?