‘I am leaving the bar,’ she said, walking through to the kitchen and filling the kettle. ‘You know I’m starting at Hooters in January.’
He looked at her, his face like thunder. ‘You’re not listening. I don’t want you working at Sundown either.’
She slammed the kettle down. ‘Piss off, Miles.’
‘Chrissy, you’re better than this.’
‘Better than what?’ There was ice in her voice.
‘Better than tarting around clubs in tiny skirts, jiggling your tits at Japs. Better than this shit-hole.’
‘Fuck you, Miles,’ she shouted. ‘This is my shit-hole, paid for with my shitty money. I work bloody hard for what I’ve got, but that’s not something you’d know about, is it?’
He stood up unsteadily. ‘I know what you’re really doing to earn that money,’ he began, but she silenced him with a stinging slap across the face.
‘Get out,’ she growled.
Miles stared after her, touching his stinging skin. ‘Come to London,’ he said.
She didn’t speak, just shook her head.
‘You think your life is better than mine, don’t you?’ she said eventually. She looked so defiant, so angry, so sure of her place in the world that Miles almost laughed.
‘Come back with me,’ he repeated.
‘I’m happy here.’
He threw his hands up. ‘Well I’m not.’
The anger in her face melted into sadness. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know.’
He strode across to her and took her hands in his.
‘It’s not you, Chris, don’t think that. It’s just this place, it’s closing in on me, and we’ve got the whole world to explore together.’
Miles knew he didn’t want to stay in Thailand for ever. Sure, it was fun and cheap, like a teenager mainlining on Thunderbird, but the novelty of slumming it was wearing off, and he was missing the familiar luxuries of his London life. But he didn’t want to lose Chrissy. It had been a long time since he had felt he had a partner in crime – not since he’d buggered it all up with Alex, in fact – and he loved how she made him feel: clever and adventurous and brave. How shallow and sapping his relationship with Sasha had been, how pointless the interchangeable society blondes he’d toyed with at Oxford. Chrissy was real, an equal, a genuine soulmate.
‘Look, Miles,’ she said softly, ‘it’s fine if you have to move on . . .’ No! he thought, his heart lurching. The more she pulled away from him, the more he wanted her.
‘I have money to buy a flat. Something smart in Chelsea, South Ken. We could live there,’ he began.
‘And do what? Play happy fucking families?’ She laughed harshly.
He hesitated.‘You and I are so alike, Chrissy. We’re good together. We can have a better life in London.’
She stepped forward and put her arms around his neck. ‘Look, Miles, I really, really like you. But I know how these things work. I move to London and you get back with some posh ex-girlfriend your daddy approves of and I have to start all over again. Besides, I like it here.’
An idea popped into his head so remote, so stupid, so wrong, it seemed right. He pulled her closer.
‘I want you, Chrissy Devine.’
‘I’m not a fucking sports car, Miles.’
He paused, his mouth suddenly going dry. Oh fuck it, he thought. ‘Marry me.’
Chrissy blinked at him, a flicker of a smile crossing her face. ‘Marry you?’ she repeated.
Miles started chuckling. The last six weeks had been incredible fun. He felt armour-plated when he was with her. He dropped down to one knee, still holding her hand.