Page 17 of Sorry, Not Sorry
The phone was answered with a high-pitched sneeze followed by a loud blowing of the nose, and Delilah grimaced. ‘You sound awful, Sal!’
‘I’m much better.’ Salome sniffed, her voice thick with congestion. ‘Arin’s got it even worse than me, poor lamb.’
After two days of caring for her sick children, Salome was also down with the flu, leaving Farhan as the only one in the house still standing.
It was typical of Sal to downplay her own needs, Delilah thought with a wry smile.
If her sister was at death’s door, she’d still insist someone else was worse off.
‘Do you need anything? Should I bring over some medicine or food or anything?’
Salome cleared her throat. ‘No need, hon, but thanks. Farhan’s bought enough drugs to stock a pharmacy. At least Maya’s back at nursery, thank God, and I’ll have a lie-down once Arin gets off to sleep.’
‘Where is Farhan?’ Delilah demanded. ‘You shouldn’t be dealing with everything on your own, especially when you’re not feeling great yourself.’
‘He’s been on video calls with his team most of today. They’ve got a new product launch next week and he’s under a lot of pressure. Don’t worry, I sound worse than I feel. How’d it go with Desmond?’
‘Mortifying. He was with his wife who probably thought I was some kind of psycho.’
‘Someone in your profession should know better than to use words that trivialise mental health,’ Salome said huskily, and Delilah scrunched her nose sheepishly at the rebuke.
‘Sorry,’ she said contritely. ‘It was just so embarrassing, and I felt like a complete idiot ambushing him in front of his family.’
‘So what happened? What did he say?’
‘Basically, even though I messed him up thirteen years ago, he’s now with the love of his life so he forgives me and everything’s cool between us.’
After a violent fit of coughing, Salome croaked, ‘Okay, so it’s one down and four to go. Who’s next?’
* * *
The half-empty car park in front of Kwame’s office wouldn’t have been Delilah’s choice of venue for a conversation, and particularly one as sensitive as she had planned.
Unfortunately, as soon her ex-boyfriend saw her waiting on the sofa in his office reception, he had bundled her outside before giving her the chance to say more than hello.
Kwame was easily the best-looking man she’d dated, and during the course of their eight-month long relationship, Delilah had often wondered what it must feel like to be so beautiful.
Ten years later, Kwame’s long-lashed caramel-brown eyes, high cheekbones, smooth chocolate skin and full sculpted lips were just as mesmerising.
Unlike his expression, which could best have been described as livid, and for a second Delilah wondered how quickly she could get away.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
No points for originality , she thought resignedly.
This time, however, she’d come prepared, and she launched into a brief and heartfelt explanation, trying not to feel intimidated by the six feet and three inches of hostile ex-boyfriend looming over her.
When she reached the part about asking his forgiveness for disappearing, Kwame’s expression darkened further.
‘Are you kidding me? You told me why you were breaking up with me!’
Delilah blinked in surprise. ‘Really?’
Their final conversation was a total blank, but there was no question that even after all these years, Kwame was still furious with her. She could only assume that being so ridiculously gorgeous, he wasn’t used to women leaving him, and she must have seriously dented his pride.
‘You were supposed to come up to Leicester with me to meet my family. You didn’t show up at the train station and I phoned your mobile,’ Kwame said stonily. ‘Does that ring a bell?’
Delilah had arrived ready to deliver her rehearsed apology and move on, but something in Kwame’s expression stopped her cold.
Behind his anger was an emotion which, she suddenly recognised, wasn’t punctured pride at all, but a raw and intense hurt.
Shaken, she forced herself to retrieve the buried memory.
‘ Del, where are you? We’re going to miss the train!’
‘I… I’m not coming…’
‘What are you talking about? You promised. Mum and Dad are dying to meet you, and my grandparents are already waiting at the house!’
‘I’m sorry…’
Kwame must have seen realisation dawning in her face because he took a half step back and lowered his voice. ‘You accused me of being clingy and moving too fast. You said you felt suffocated – remember that? And now you show up asking me to forgive you…?’
He tailed off as a car drove into the car park and waited until the woman behind the wheel had exited her car and walked into the building before turning back to face Delilah.
‘I remember that day like it was yesterday,’ he said bitterly. ‘You were the first girl I’d ever wanted to take home, and yet somehow you thought it was okay to dump me in the middle of a packed train station. Do you have any idea how that felt?’