‘I’m sorry, too,’ I whisper, ignoring Miller’s increased breathing and twitching beside me. ‘I hate this.’

I watch as his face drops to match his broad shoulders. He slips a hand into his jeans pocket, his work boots scuffing the pathway beneath. ‘Baby girl, I hate this, too, but I’m here for you.’ He lifts tortured eyes to mine. ‘You need to know that.’

Happiness floods me, the hugest weight lifting from my tired shoulders. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he replies, and then removes something from his pocket. His arm extends towards me with something gripped between his fingers. Confusion replaces the relief, and I definitely don’t imagine Miller turning stone cold next to me. ‘Take it,’ Gregory prompts, waving his arm forward.

A shimmer of silver catches the porch light, seeming to blind me like low, winter sunlight. Then I notice the perfect scrolled font. Miller’s ‘business’ card. My heart beats up to my throat and wedges itself there.

Miller’s hand flies out and snatches the card. ‘Where the f**k did you get this?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Gregory says calmly, in total control, while I lose control completely, my body vibrating violently with shakes.

‘It f**king matters,’ Miller growls, balling his fist, folding his business card in on itself until it’s out of sight. ‘Where?’

‘Fuck you.’

Miller’s gone from my side in a heartbeat. ‘Miller!’ I scream, but he’s fallen into a zone of rage and nothing will pull him back.

Gregory manages to dodge the first blow, but it’s not long before both men are crashing to the concrete on a thunderous bang. ‘Miller!’ My frantic screams are hopeless and so are my frozen limbs, which I vaguely appreciate through my fog of panic. Getting between these two would be foolish, but I hate feeling so useless. ‘Please stop,’ I cry quietly. The tears building in my eyes swell and release, streaming down my cheeks, blurring the painful sight before me.

‘You should’ve kept your f**king nose out!’ Miller roars, yanking Gregory up by his shirt and landing a sickening punch to his jaw, sending my friend’s head snapping to the side. ‘Why the f**k does everyone think they have some god-given right to interfere?’

Smack!

Another punishing blow splits Gregory’s lip and blood bursts from the wound, coating Miller’s knuckles. ‘Leave us the f**k alone!’

‘Miller, stop!’ I shout, attempting to step forward, but my legs turn to jelly, making grasping the wall essential if I’m to stay on my feet. ‘Miller!’

He’s straddling Gregory on the ground, his whole body heaving, sweat streaming down his face. This is the worst I’ve seen him. He’s completely out of control. He yanks Gregory’s torso up by the scruff of his collar bunched in each fist. ‘I’ll rip out the spine of anyone who tries to take her away from me. You’re no exception.’ He shoves Gregory to his back and stands, all the while keeping wild eyes on my friend. ‘You’ll keep this to yourself.’

‘Miller,’ I cry on a sniffle, struggling to gain a steadying breath through my choked sobbing.

He turns slowly towards me and I don’t like what I see. Irrationality. Unruliness. Lunacy. This side of him, the violent, crazy, reckless part, I don’t like at all. It frightens me, not only because of the damage that he can so easily inflict, but also because he seems so unaware while he’s in this destructive mode. Our eyes hold for the longest time, me trying to bring him back around before he does further damage, him heaving uncontrollably before me. Gregory’s in a bad way, struggling to get to his feet behind Miller, clutching his stomach and hissing in pain. He didn’t deserve that.

‘She needs to know,’ Gregory mumbles, standing half bent, clearly in tremendous pain. His barely decipherable words register loud and clear. He thinks I don’t know. He thought he was coming here to share some information on the man he hates that would see me throwing him out of my life. He thinks that’s why Miller has lost the plot, not simply because of his interference and risk of exposure to Nan, which I know now is a massive concern to him. My poor heart is still in overdrive, pounding in my chest, and this realisation has just flipped it up another gear.

‘I already knew,’ I say on a breathy gasp, keeping my eyes on Miller’s. ‘I know what he was and what he did.’ And I know this news will cripple Gregory. He thought he had the perfect reason for me to leave Miller, and he thought he’d be able to comfort me as I dealt with the horrid revelation. He was hoping for that the most. But he’s wrong, and I’m fully aware that this could equal the final blow to our friendship. He’ll never understand why I’m still with Miller, and I doubt my ability to make him see why or the strength required to do it.

‘You knew?’ His tone is now dripping with pure shock. ‘You know that this piece of shit is a f**king gigolo?’

‘An escort,’ I correct. ‘And was.’ I allow my eyes to travel over Miller’s pulsing shoulders to Gregory’s folded body. He’s starting to straighten up.

The disbelief on his face spikes unwanted and unwarranted shame to attack me. ‘What the f**k has happened to you?’ His look of hatred slices right through me, and I clamp my lips together to prevent a sob from ripping past them, knowing it’ll trigger Miller’s insanity again.

I don’t register the door swinging open behind me, but I do register Nan’s age-worn voice. ‘Dinner’s getting cold!’ she snaps, and then silence falls for the briefest of moments while she takes in the scene she’s happened upon. ‘What the devil . . .?’

I don’t get the chance to even think of what explanation can be given to my grandmother. Gregory springs to life and charges at Miller, throwing himself at his mid-section and taking them tumbling down the path onto the street. ‘You bastard!’ he yells, pulling back his fist and sending it catapulting forward on an angry bellow, but Miller’s head dodges it, sending Gregory’s balled fist into the concrete beside his head. ‘Fuck!’

Miller’s up and dragging Gregory with him, pinning him to the low wall at the end of our front garden.

‘Goodness gracious!’ Nan flies past me and throws herself into the middle of the two men, her notorious spunk rearing its ugly head. There’s no display of fear on her old face, just sheer determination. ‘Pack it in!’ she yells, muscling between them and pushing them apart on a shout. ‘That’s enough!’ Both men heave on each side of her, sweating and glaring over her head. She’s brave, but my fear for her is rife as I absorb potent anger firing off from both men, showing no sign of receding. She’s far from frail, but she’s an old lady nonetheless. She shouldn’t be intervening between these two men, especially not Miller. He’s frenzied, unable to rationalise. ‘I’m giving you one chance!’ she warns. ‘Cut it out or deal with me!’

Her words put the fear of God in me, but I doubt they’ll have any effect on these two. So imagine my shock when both men relax and break the staring deadlock in unison. Then I remember William’s light quip.

No one ever made me quake in my boots, Olivia. Only your grandmother.