Love and Devotion by Erica James Page B

wanted to feel pleased about seeing him again, but her pride wouldn’t let her. Let’s not forget why he’s really here, she reminded herself. During the journey down in the car she had wondered about getting in first, ensuring she was the one to end it between them. ‘Look, Spencer,’ she’d imagined herself saying, ‘let’s be adult about this. We had our fun, now it’s time to move on.’ She then imagined winning an Oscar for the most clichéd performance ever given in the history of hammy break-up scenes.
    She buzzed him up and, fixing a smile to her face, opened the door. ‘Hi, Spencer,’ she said. If nothing else, he was going to remember her for being positive and upbeat. But the moment he leaned in for a kiss and she felt the dampness from the rain on his hair and cheek, and smelled the familiar scent of him, she wasn’t so sure of herself. A flood of happy memories came back and she kissed him for a fraction longer than she’d intended. Hope surfaced, too. Maybe he would stand by her after all. Maybe he’d be there for her.
    ‘You’ve been busy,’ he said, taking off his wet coat and eyeing the narrow hall that was crowded with boxes and bin liners.
    ‘You know me. If a job’s got to be done, best to get it over and done with.’ Like ending their doomed relationship, she thought. Noticing the carrier bag he was holding, she said, ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Lunch. I knew you’d be too busy to go out, so I called in at your favourite deli. Take your choice: avocado and bacon baguettes, coronation chicken sandwiches and a smoked salmon bagel.’
    ‘How intuitive of you.’ Of course, ending it in a restaurant would have been much too dangerous. An embarrassing scene might ensue.
    ‘You carry on with what you were doing,’ he said, ‘and I’ll set things up in the kitchen.’
    Down on the floor with her boxes of books, she listened to Spencer as he unwrapped the parcels of food in the kitchen. He definitely seemed quieter than usual. They always do when they’re about to pull the rug out from beneath you. They need to concentrate. You know what men are like, can’t multi-task like us girls.
    Stop it! She warned the crazy, paranoid woman inside her head. Perhaps he was just unsure how to treat her these days. Be too relaxed and jaunty with her and he might think she would accuse him of being insensitive.
    ‘Ready when you are,’ he called.
    They sat opposite each other at the circular table. ‘I’m going to miss Franco’s Deli,’ she said, helping herself to a baguette and ripping it in two. ‘Do you want half?’
    He shook his head. ‘What else do you think you’ll miss?’
    ‘Just about everything.’ She looked about her, indicating her precious home of the last fourteen months. ‘This. Work. Oxford.’ She paused and looked at him meaningfully. ‘And you. Especially you.’ She was throwing him a line. Cueing him up. But all he did was smile and take another bite of his sandwich.
    That was when she knew for sure that it was over.
    They ate in silence, like an ancient married couple who no longer had anything to say to one another. When she couldn’t take the awkwardness any longer, she put down her baguette and said, ‘I think we need to talk.’ She cringed.
    And the Oscar for most clichéd break-up opening line goes to Harriet Swift!
    He gave her a nervous look.
    ‘You said on the phone yesterday that there was something you wanted to say to me.’ Once again she was throwing him a line.
    He slowly finished what was in his mouth. ‘It’ll keep,’ he murmured. ‘Any luck on the job front yet?’
    She would never have thought he was the cowardly type. He’d always seemed so objective and clear-headed. It was one of the things about him that had attracted her. Prepared to give him some slack, she said, ‘I haven’t had time to sneeze, never mind approach a job agency. No disrespect to my niece and nephew but they’re incredibly time-consuming. There always seems to be