Page 30 of Asking For a Friend

“I, um, don’t think that’s going to happen. I fucked up.” I look at her name tag. “I’m sorry, Kate. I wish it had turned out differently.”

“He told you about his past boyfriends, didn’t he? The thing is that you’re nothing like them. For one, you’re about ten years younger than them. We all knew they only wanted a pretty boy to have fun with, but Lando never saw that. His generous heart always fell for them. He wanted them to do the same. He thought once you’d caught his attention, then you’d use him and leave. And to him, that’s what you did. His relationship with his parents isn’t a good one. They didn’t kick him out when he came out, but only because he left before they could.”

“Why are you telling me all this? I know I let him down, that I didn’t go to the signing.”

“Do you really think that’s the thing that hurt him the most? That it would be enough to break up with you without any explanation? That’s not Lando. You need to work out what really happened. Then maybe you can talk to him.” Kate looks at me with hope in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Kate. That’s not going to happen. You can tell him to come back. I won’t pester him here.”

With a resigned sigh, she nods and leaves me alone.

I take a sip of my coffee. There are only so many moments I can be ignored. I fucked up, like seriously fucked up. What does she mean by ‘not the only thing that hurt Lando’? His hard limit, he called it. What did he mean by that? However many times I go through the whole messed-up weekend, I don’t understand that part.

I open my tablet and read up on the notes of the micromanaging, overfussy, and bossy host of this Saturday’s party—Mrs Hardwick. She has refused to see any of our planners and insists on dealing with me. Everything I suggest she dismisses. She has a vision of what she wants it to be. Then she goes back to my suggestion, making it sound as if it was her idea in the first place. The garden will be transformed into a winter wonderland right down to artificial snow and ice sculptures. Two dozen heaters will keep the tables in the garden warm, but the poor guests will still be freezing. The interior decorations are just as gaudy. I’m ashamed to have our names connected with it, and I’ll be glad when this one is over with.

I finish my coffee and muffin, wander back out and down to the crossing, and wait for the signal. On the other side of the street, a young man kisses the man he’s with, not caring who’s looking. Shit. A stone as heavy as a boulder settles in my stomach. This is why Lando ended it. He saw me with Rory, who hugged me, then kissed my forehead. Fuck, he thought I’d cheated on him. That’s his hard limit.

The fact that he’s wrong, that it isn’t what he thought, what it looked like, doesn’t matter. I’ve done the same thing as all his ex-boyfriends. I’ve shut him out, kept a secret. No wonder he ignores me, and I can’t blame him. He said he would walk away before I made him leave. I imagine the pain he must have felt. Nausea bubbles up. I hate myself for being so selfish, so thoughtless, and so wrapped up in my brother that I forgot the person who means the world to me. I don’t deserve to have him back.

Forty minutes later, I arrive at the house of Stephanie Hardwick. Before I can knock, the door opens. The pain in my gut hasn’t gone away, but I have a job to do and push it down. “Good, you’re here. I’ve had a thought about the table decorations.”

And here we go again. I follow her into the large, pristine living room and let her talk for ten solid minutes.

“And of course I expect you to be here for the night. I’m sure there’ll be issues you’ll need to address.”

“It’s not part of our service, Mrs Hardwick. Michelle, your planner, will be here to set up, but the party is yours to enjoy. I promise you there won’t be any issues.”

“No, I don’t accept that, Mr Trent. Add the extra fee to my bill.”

It looks like I’m going to the party from hell.

I take a screenshot of the words The End, then switch to my Facebook group and post the picture. Hey, Hotties, look what I’ve just done. Oscar and Ethan have made it to the end.

I rest back in my chair and lace my fingers behind my head. The end of a book and the series. That’s three years of blood, sweat, and tears from the characters and, if I’m honest, from myself too. Crying is all I seem to be doing lately, and it’s completely irrational and totally stupid. Hesketh isn’t mine anymore. Yet seeing him with another man, one who had more than a passing resemblance to me, stabbed my heart.

Connor, ever the romantic, said Hesketh is my soul mate and that’s why it hurts so much. Which made Scottie snort beer out of his nose, but I’m not convinced he’s wrong. The ringing of my phone breaks my pity party. Kate’s name is on the screen. She’s still pissed off at me for not using the coffee shop as my office anymore, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want him to try to talk to me in there because I would have to be polite and keep my voice down.

“Hi.”

“Lando.” She sighs, and I can guess what she’s going to say.

“Leave it, Kate. It doesn’t matter.” It does matter. It matters plenty.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“Yes, I do. You’re going to tell me that Hesketh came in. He probably had another man with him, and you’re sorry.”

“Well, aren’t you Mister Smarty-pants? You got two of them wrong.” She huffs, and I can see her swiping her hair from her eyes, something she always does when she’s annoyed. “He came in, but he was alone, and I’m not sorry I spoke to him. He looks as sad as you. He even sat at your table.”

I know there’s more, and I’m sure it’s going to be bad. “Probably because it was the only one vacant. What did you say to him?”

“I told him you’re just as unhappy as he is. That maybe he should call you.”

“Oh, that’s just great. Thanks for nothing, Kate. I don’t want him to call me. We’re not getting back together.” As much as I wish I could, I can’t get the image of him embracing another man out of my head. He looked happy. Has he ever looked like that with me?

“Yeah, he pretty much said the same thing. He said you should come back here to write. He won’t be returning. And okay, I’ll give you something else you got right. I’m sorry, sweetie, but he does look as if he regrets it too. I’m telling you this because I’m your friend. You need to call him, Lando.”

“No, I’m not doing that. Look, I’ve enough shit going on with my mother constantly pressuring me. I don’t need any more from my friends.”

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