Page 109 of Storm in a Teacup
His eyebrows shoot up. “Shit. Did you guys break up?”
I hang my head and confess, “We were never dating in the first place.” And there we have it. Everyone who thought we were together now knows we were not. A surprising weight leaves my shoulders.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you assumed I was dating her at the café, I let you believe it, she needed me to pretend to be her boyfriend for a joint hen and stag do because her ex is the devil, and I asked her to come to dinner with us as my girlfriend, then we just kept pretending.”
He sets a glass down with a heavyclink. “Why would you do that?”
“To prove to you that I wasn’t in love with you anymore.”
“Were you still?”
“Yes.”
He stiffens, asking carefully, “Are you still?”
I assess him thoroughly. The perfect line of his jaw with a light, sharply cut stubble, his strong hands splayed on the bar, the bright orange shirt he wears that practically glows in the dark.
“No,” I say honestly, surprising myself. “I’m not.” I laugh, giddy. “I’m not in love with you anymore. I mean, hey, I still love you, but I’m notinlove with you anymore.”
Another patron hears that as he approaches the bar and pivots away, saying, “Tough break, mate.”
“Aye, tough break! Christ almighty, David, I’m over you!” I keep laughing. I’m sure I look like I’ve gone doolally, spinning around on my bar stool, but I don’t care. I feel so free. I still love him, but in the way I used to. As a friend. As my brother. My love for him has shifted back to where it should have stayed.
David grins. “Your excitement over this is somewhat insulting.”
“Good. Be insulted. Your go for that.” I laugh still. “Bloody hell. I mean, look at you, gorgeous, perfect, wonderful man, but everything I felt, it’s gone. I don’t know where it went. I don’t knowwhenit went, but it’s gone.”
David’s hands clench on the bar. “Does this mean we can go back to normal?”
“We can,” I say. “We really, really can.”
“You’re going to make jokes about the fact that you were in love with me for the rest of our lives, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes, I am.”
“If you make those jokes in mixed company, you might make people uncomfortable.”
“Why? Because of the explicit homoeroticism I’ll work into every conversation?”
“No, I think they’ll be down with the homoeroticism.”
Someone slides into the seat next to me. Rachel.
She grimaces slightly. “I’ve been standing back there for a bit. I wanted to give you guys your space, but then I felt like I was in the way. And your conversation was starting to get weird.”
“You heard all that?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She lowers her voice. “Isla told me about you and Linny.”
“Oh,” I say, at a normal volume. “Yeah, the fake relationship. Wild thing to do, right? I told David.”
Rachel squints. “I meant the breakup.”
“‘Breakup,’” I correct with air quotes, though my chest aches as though there were no air quotes.
“Where is Isla, by the way?” David asks.
