Page 15 of One More Shot
Given the fact that we’re currently at their engagement party, I’d say he’s got a point there. But still. ‘Never too late. Bailey will just have to find someone else to fawn over her every day. Shouldn’t be too hard.’
Cash rolls his eyes and bumps me with his elbow. ‘Don’t change the topic. What’s going on with you and Eliott?’
‘Nothing.’ It comes out with more bite than I’d intended and Cash shoots me a sceptical look. I clear my throat and shrug. ‘I mean, I just thought I recognised her from somewhere, but I was wrong. No big deal.’
Cash and I have been business partners for almost a decade now, and best friends for even longer. It’s difficult to remember a time when Cash wasn’t an integral part of my life, and he’s more like a brother to me than anything else at this point. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself. So it’s not all that surprising when the lookof scepticism on his face doesn’t fade. But he doesn’t say anything.
Cash is good at that. Letting you come to him in your own time once you’ve parsed your thoughts and figured out whatever it is you actually want to say.
I think that’s probably why he waited so long to tell me he liked Bailey. Really liked her – not the crush he had when we were kids that would send him rushing from the room whenever she walked in. He was sorting through his thoughts, trying to make sure that it was something real before he broached the topic with me.
And so I know he won’t force me to tell him what’s on my mind right now. He’ll wait, trusting that when I’m ready, I will.
I feel a familiar wave of gratitude towards him as I push myself off the wall. ‘Let’s talk about your stag do.’ As segues go, it’s not my smoothest, but Cash lets it slide. ‘I’ve got some ideas I need to run by you. Thoughts on a long weekend of debauchery in Amsterdam? No flights,’ I add quickly, knowing just how much Cash hates flying. ‘We can get the train.’
‘Definedebauchery.’
I grin as we meander back into the crowd. ‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out. But itwillinclude beer, brownies and beautiful women. The latter being for me, of course.’
Cash snorts. ‘Right.’
I spot Eliott snapping a photo of Bailey and a group of her friends as we cut through the crowd. From across the room, her eyes catch mine and I offer her a small smile. She stares at me for a few seconds, her face pinching into an expression I can’t quite place, before she turns away – smile, unreturned.
Chapter FiveELIOTT
Sasha doubles over, tears forming in the creases of her eyes as a loud cackle wracks through her. ‘You didwhat?’
I groan into the sofa cushion. ‘I pretended like I didn’t recognise him.’
Even Wes – calm, stoic, typically unflappable Wes – is in hysterics. ‘You didn’t.’
Another groan. This is truly a new low. ‘I did.’
‘Why?’ Sasha chokes out as she pulls herself back upright onto the sofa. ‘What could have possibly possessed you?’
And that’s the million pound question, isn’t it? What thehellpossessed me? Because believe it or not, pretending like I didn’t recognise Dane wasn’t part of the plan. Plan A was to cling to the shadows like some kind of deranged comic book villain and avoid him like the plague and, if that well-thought-out plan didn’t work? Plan B was to act like a normal, well-adjusted human being and simply tell him I wasn’t interested in talking.
Instead, the second I whirled around to find Dane looming over me, it was like my brain short-circuited. All capability of rational thought vanished as I took in that lopsided smile and did, quite possibly, the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I regretted it almost as soon as the words came out of my mouth, and an all-consuming blend of guilt and shame weighed me down the entire drive home from the restaurant. Pretending like I didn’t recognise him was one thing, but doubling down and acting likehewas the problem two years ago?
I groan again into the cushion. ‘I don’t know.’
Wes gives me a sympathetic pat on the thigh. Sasha dissolves into another fit of cackles. There’s a nondescript terrible SyFy movie playing on mute on the TV in front of us, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table – with copious amounts spilled on the carpet beneath it – alongside an empty, greasy pizza box, and a thick, fluffy blanket awkwardly wrapped around Wes’s legs. I’ve interrupted a movie night, but neither of them seems to mind.
‘Well, at least you’ll never have to see him again,’ Sasha says, once she’s finally managed to compose herself. She gives me a sideways look and wiggles her brows. ‘Unless—’
‘No,’ I say sharply. ‘I’m not going to accept their wedding request. Absolutely not.’
‘But you said they were nice,’ Wes says. He’s frowning at me and I avoid his judgement by reaching for the popcornand stuffing a handful into my mouth. ‘Kind of shitty to leave them hanging now.’
‘I’m not leaving them hanging. I’m sure they’ll have plenty of time to find another photographer they like.’ Saying it out loud does absolutely nothing to assuage the wave of guilt that hits me. ‘They haven’t even sent me their date yet. It’s not unreasonable that I might already be booked.’
Sasha and Wes exchange a look. It’s exactly the kind of look Bailey and Cash gave each other when I asked about the wedding. The kind of look that implies there’s some sort of silent conversation going on between the two of them. A silent conversation aboutme.
I should be used to this.
I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but at some point over the last nine months, Wes has gone from simply being my best friend’s boyfriend who spends an inordinate amount of time at our house to, essentially, a third housemate. Neither of them have mentioned it officially and sometimes I wonder if they think I haven’t noticed how Wes has a shelf in our bathroom cupboard, or that his laundry lines the rack as often as mine, or how – aside from when he has an out-of-town gig – he spends every single night here.
I don’t usually mind. I like Wes. IloveWes. He’s perfect for Sasha – the soothing calm to her endless dramatics – and ends up being a helpful tiebreaker whenever we have a disagreement about what to order for dinner or whose turnit is to take the bins out, even if he does nearly always side with Sasha. Fundamentally, I like having him here. I just would’ve preferred that they’d asked me about it before just going ahead and moving him in without a word.
