Page 19 of Something Borrowed
Checking my phone to make sure one of the girls hasn’t said they’re on their way, I put the tub down and make my way over to the door.
Looking through the peephole, I can’t believe my eyes. I quickly look in the mirror to my left, but I don’t have time to fix how I look because he’s there, on the other side of the door.
The second I open it, Freddie’s on me. He pushes me backwards into the hallway until we crash back against the wall. His lips descend on mine and he kisses me like he’s been gone months, not only days.
“Freddie, what are you—”
His lips cut me off again, his tongue sweeping deep into my mouth. “Missed you,” he mumbles.
“I missed you, too,” I manage to say when he eventually pulls back, not that I’m complaining. “How come you’re here?”
“Why, don’t you want me here?”
“Of course I do. I’m just surprised.”
“How surprised would you be if I were to tell you I was here to stay?”
A smile twitches at my lips, but I refuse to allow it to break in case he’s just winding me up.
“What?”
“Bryony,” he says, taking my hand and standing back a little. My eyes widen and my heart pounds that he’s about to drop to one knee, but thankfully he stays on his feet. “Can I move in with you?”
“Can you…move in with me?” My brow creases as I stare at him. He’s joking, right? This is a joke. “What about your life? Your job?”
“I left. I was losing my job anyway. I gave notice on my apartment and packed up all my stuff. Just say if—”
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
A smile spreads across my face before I launch myself at him and slam my lips down on his.
“Yes, yes…you can move in.”
Bryony
Six Months Later…
“Pack a bag, we’re going away for the weekend,” Freddie says the moment I step through the front door.
“Sorry, what?”
“Go and pack a bag, we’re going away for the weekend,” he repeats slowly like I’m a total idiot.
“I heard, dick.” I go to slap his shoulder, but he’s quicker. His fingers wrap around my wrist and I’m pulled up against his chest.
“Hey,” he says, smiling down at me.
“Hey. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” I narrow my eyes at him in question, but he doesn’t break.
“How long have you been planning this?” I ask as I head for our bedroom.
“A while. Now, hurry up, we don’t want to miss our flight.”
“Flight?” I ask, feeling a little flustered about having to pack on the spot. I usually plan my packing weeks in advance for any trip.
