Page 29 of You Are Cordially Invited

I bristled. “Idolet him in.”Like no one else, ever.“We’re partners.”

Pinky swear?

Fuck.

“Does he know that?”

“What the hell does that mean?” I glared.

He sighed, glanced at the next table who were busy ordering, and leaned closer. “This is me you’re talking to. You and I have had to build some pretty solid walls growing up just to survive. It’s taken a lot to believe in ourselves, and we like to control our lives tighter than most so that no one fucks with us or the people we love. But those walls don’t just fall down when we meet someone, eventheone. In fact, I reckon that only makes us worse, because finding someone who accepts and loves us for who we are is such a goddamn surprise that we’re terrified of doing anything which might jeopardise that. Giving up control isn’t like flipping a switch, you know.”

“I do realise that,” I said, fidgeting with the serviette and feeling my pulse quicken.

“Maybe you do.” He looked a little sheepish. “But you’d be surprised how many times I look around to find I’ve kept stuff from Miller without even realising it. Either because I think he won’t get it or doesn’t need to know, or maybe that he might not like what I’m feeling. Now that doesn’t matter when it comes to ordering pizza or even buying a car—although the man’s taste in colour leaves a lot to be desired—but it sure waves red flags when it’s anything about relationship stuff.”

“This isn’t the same thing.”

“Isn’t it? Look, I’m not saying that’s what you’re doing, just that maybe it’s something to consider.Youthink you’re letting Reuben decide for himself by keeping quiet, but really what you’re doing is holding back information he needs to make that decision. It’s just another form of control.” He sat back and studied me from the other side of the table, nervous, as if I was about to pronounce sentence on him or our friendship.

I wanted to.

I wanted to get up and walk out and leave all those dangerous words of his to get kicked around on the restaurant floor until someone swept them into the bin. Words that sank like a depth charge in my heart. One twitch in the wrong direction and all those glittering sharp edges I’d so carefully crafted over the years might just disappear in a puff of diamond dust.

Take an even closer look and I might actually have to... change.

Pinky swear?

It’s not too late to run.

Fucking, fuck, fuck.

I slumped in my seat and scowled at him. “Son of a bitch, I hate it when you’re right.”

“I live but to please.” His lips quirked up.

“Well, don’t smile too soon,” I snipped, hailing the waiter across the room. “Next round’s on you. And you can up it to a damn Moët.”

Chapter Six

Reuben

Georgie watchedme through her kitchen window, tight brown curls bouncing around her elfin features and green eyes, a notch of concern dipping between her brows. I’d stopped on the way home from Tuesday training to ask her opinion on the whole baby thing. Only Cam knew me better. Before him, it had just been Georgie and me.

And I needed to talk tosomeone. Cam had made it clear he wasn’t ready, saying he wanted to wait until I had all the information we needed first. I fucking hated this awkward dance we were doing around each other, but there weren’t that many people I could turn to who weren’t too involved as it was, like Cam’s mother for example.

And so I’d come to my best friend and had just finished telling her about the baby when Cam’s mum interrupted us.

“He’s not answering any of my texts or calls.” Margaret Wano sounded more than a little pissy on the phone as I walked our conversation to the far corner of Georgie’s deck and took a seat out of the cold gusty wind. Potted daffodils danced in the stiff breeze, brightening the space and reminding us it was spring even though the day’s temperature hardly reflected it.

“I don’t think he wants to be influenced byanyoneat the moment,” I explained. “Be patient with him. Both of us want to be sure howwefeel first before we talk to anyone else.” I glanced at Georgie through the window and hoped Margaret didn’t hear the stretch and snap of the truth. “We also need to talk with Stella. I think she—”

“But she’ll want an answer from you.”

“Then she’ll be disappointed,” I said flatly. “We won’t be pressured, Margaret, and we can’t make a decision without knowing what role Stella sees for herself with the baby, in the future. What ‘contact’ and ‘involvement’ mean for her. Surely you understand that?”

She went quiet. “Yes, of course I do. I just—”

“Can you text me Stella’s mum’s number?”

---