Page 28 of Actually Yours

“It was an accident,” I clarify. “It’s not like I went looking for her information. Robby had his phone open, and a notification had me glancing in its direction.”

He gives me a look and I refuse to buckle. We both know what I’m saying is a complete lie, but I’m sticking to it. The alternative makes me seem like a pervy stalker, and that’s not a role I want to be cast in.

“So, you ‘bump’ into her at the café you ‘accidentally’ found out about.” Quotation marks galore. “And then what?”

More scenes from that morning flash across my mind. Amelia looking gorgeous in her black leather pants and fire-engine red tank top, her caramel hair piled on top of her head in a careless bun. Amelia and her friends discussing how they plan on finding her a boyfriend, a decent one this time. Ameliaagreeingto their ridiculous plan.

“She and her friends were talking a lot about Amelia’s dating history,” I start.

“You were listening to their conversation?” Steven’s eyes continue to sparkle in delight, enjoyment written all over his face.

“I was at the table next to them. I couldn’tnothear what they were saying.” I defend myself with vigour, once again to avoid the label of stalker. This time with eavesdropper added to it.

“Did Robby’s name come up?”

It’s my turn to give him a look. “Of course it did. Right under the category of whonotto date.”

“So? Then what?” I watch as he heaps a corn chip with guacamole, sour cream and salsa, only just fitting the concoction into his mouth.

“Her friends decided she needs to break her pattern of dating ‘losers’.” My turn to use quotation marks.

Steven gives me a look that says ‘duh’ while chewing his food, motioning with his hands to continue.

“And they made a plan for her to date men with proper jobs.” Even as I say the words, my stomach clenches. It’s not that I don’t want Amelia to find a good guy…OK, it is exactly that I don’t want Amelia to find a good guy. Or any guy. Just until I’m over this little inconvenient crush, that is.

“Well, that’s perfect,” my friend gushes, spitting the remnants of his corn chip crumbs on the table between us. “You have a proper job.”

I blanch at the suggestion that I’d ever be in the mix. That I’d ever have a chance with someone as amazing as Amelia.

“That ship has sailed. I’m not an option for her.” I look to the left as I say this. A big fat lie from my end. But obviously not from hers.

He takes a chug of beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before answering.

“Why not?”

I tick the well-rehearsed reasons off my fingers as I list them for him. “She’s my brother’s ex-girlfriend. She’s seven years younger than me. She’s gorgeous and feisty and clearly attracted to a different sort of man.”

“Pfft,” he snorts. “That’s a whole heap of nonsense.”

“And,” I continue, ignoring his interruption, “and she chose Robby.”

This hits home with Steven, stopping the next words out of his mouth. It’s the ultimate stumbling block. When we’d met that night at the bar, when I’d felt sparks literally flying between us, she wasn’t dating Robby. She didn’t even know him; their date was the definition of blind. At that moment, if she’d felt even a tenth of the connection with me that I’d been feeling with her, she could have chosen to spend that evening with me. Or, at least, given me the same chance she’d given Robby. But she didn’t. In fact, she dated my brother for six months, so clearly that initial attraction between us was all in my head.

“People change,” Steven says finally, gearing up to rally again. “We don’t know why she made that decision that night. But she may have regretted it ever since.”

It’s a thought that’s tickled my mind over the last year whenever I allow myself to think about her. But it’s all redundant in the end. She picked Robby and now she’ll always be my brother’s ex-girlfriend. Forever off-limits.

“Enough talking about this,” I plead with him to drop it. “Let’s focus on you and Clare and all this baby talk I’m hearing about.”

My friend’s face pales at this, like literally loses every ounce of colour and I let out a chuckle.Not so much fun with the shoe on the other foot, is it?

“She’s got the baby fever,” he tells me in a hushed voice. It’s like if he says it out loud, it makes it real. “Lots of talk about ovulation and fertility windows.”

I grimace. Too much information.

“But there’s also a lot of fun to be had along the way,” I remind him.

He grins at this and then steers the conversation away from baby-making and dating plans, towards something more manly. Like sports. And beer. And I dive in with him, ready to forget all about Amelia and her mission to find ‘the one’. Determined to not give any of it another thought.

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