Page 33 of The Jealous Girl

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need to.

It wasn’t that far from Swanage to Wareham. I could be there before he finished.

Waiting when he came out.

I sat in my Citroën, my fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel even though I’d been parked for the last thirty minutes. My attention fixed on the entrance to the gym. My breath catching every time the door opened.

And then, finally, there he was.

Something tightened in my chest. It had only been a few days, and yet it felt so much longer.

How had it come to this?

Sitting in car parks, watching and waiting.

I hesitated as my resolve wavered. I could stay in the car and wait for him to leave. Drive home without him ever knowing I’d been here.

I shook my head, reached for the door handle and slid quietly out of my car.

I’d parked strategically between the entrance and his car, tucked behind a van, so I wasn’t immediately visible, but equally unavoidable. He couldn’t leave without passing by me.

I weaved silently between the cars, my gaze locked on him. Even from here I could see the tension in his body. The stiffness of his back. His raised shoulders.

There was a strange sense of comfort in seeing him like that. Not because I wanted him to suffer. But because seeing him relaxed and smiling, like none of it had mattered, would have been worse.

To know that losing him had unravelled me, but losing me had done nothing to him, would have been unbearable.

His jaw tightened as his gaze fell on me. My absence might not have made him happy, but my presence clearly didn’t either.

‘What are you doing here?’ Each word oozed with irritation.

‘I need—’ My voice faltered. ‘I need to talk to you,’ I finished weakly.

This wasn’t the way I’d planned it.

Strong. Confident. That’s what I wanted him to see me as.

‘It won’t take long,’ I added, cursing the pleading tone to my voice.

‘It’s not a good time,’ Ryan said, his gaze darting back towards the entrance.

I snorted. Of course it wasn’t.

My spine straightened, indignance renewing my resolve.

‘What’s going on with you and Charlotte?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

‘We’re…’ Ryan hesitated. ‘We’re together.’

My eyes narrowed as I studied him. ‘Are you?’

He shifted slightly, but didn’t respond.

‘Because it doesn’t look like it.’

Ryan frowned. ‘What do you mean, it doesn’t look like it?’

‘Charlotte’s photos⁠—’