Page 24 of Forever, Maybe
“I didn’t,” she assured her. “And I doubt Tadgh or Grant even caught half of what you were saying, anyway.” She held something out. “Here.”
The human embodiment of the Scout mottoBe Prepared, Stephanie dug through her handbag and produced a toothbrush still in its packaging along with a travel-size tube of toothpaste.
“Thanks,” Nell muttered, squeezing a generous dollop of blue gel onto the brush. She scrubbed furiously, running the bristles over her tongue and gums as if the action could wipe away not just the sour taste in her mouth but the entire situation.
She spat into the sink and straightened up. “I’ll just say I made a mistake.”
“Okay.” Stephanie’s response carried that same odd note Nell had picked up on earlier. “Do you think you should go home? You’re whiter than a milk bottle. We could flag down a taxi.”
Regret laced the suggestion. Stephanie had clearly been enjoying herself, likely picturing the night ending with her and Grant back at her flat, rather than playing nursemaid to her queasy best friend.
“You stay. I’ll go,” Nell said, glancing at the time. Twenty to eleven. Danny had mentioned the speeches and glad-handing would wrap up by eleven, so if she walked west along Bath Street, he could pick her up there. They’d be home and tucked up in bed by half-past.
Bliss.
“I can’t let you walk around there by yourself,” Stephanie protested when Nell explained her plan.
“Honestly, I’ll be fine,” Nell assured her. “A good night’s sleep is all I need. Buchanan Street’s packed at this time of night, and there’ll be cops everywhere.”
Stephanie still looked hesitant but nodded. “Okay. Just promise me you’ll message when you get home, yeah?”
“Promise. And you’re to do the same. I don’t want you waking up next to an axe murderer.”
Stephanie tapped two fingers to her temple. “Scout’s honour.”
At the top of the stairs, she pulled Nell into a quick hug. There was no way out without passing Tadgh and Grant’s table, where both men were still nursing drinks. Grant’s gaze roamed the room, lingering far too often on nearby women.
Not a promising sign. But Nell knew Stephanie would fall for him anyway. Grant was just like every man Stephanie had ever introduced her to—cocky, self-assured, always scanning the horizon for the next, better option. The type who had Stephanie clinging to the faint hope that this one would be The One.
As Nell walked past their table, she managed a polite wave, ignoring Tadgh’s booming, “Are you alright, hen?” followed by an even louder, “Who’s Danny?”
Buchanan Street buzzed with life, a chaotic flow of people weaving in and out of each other, laughing, shouting and debating their next destination. Nell slipped between the clusters, her head down.
At the bottom of the street, Frasers’ department store loomed, its windows glowing with displays of high-end makeup and perfume. Large banners, suspended at sharp angles from the shopfront, featured impossibly perfect women with flawless, airbrushed skin.
Unlike the boy on Tadgh’s phone, his cheeks marred with pockmarked acne scars that told the story of awkward teenage years.
Her heart thudded. Oh.Oh.
Danny had suffered from acne as a teen. By the time she’d met him, the worst had long passed, but she could still remember the faint, cratered texture of his skin. Scars that had only softened with time.
Her breath quickened.No. No, no, no.
She turned into Gordon Street. The queue for the city’s black cabs waiting outside Central Station was short. Grabbing a cab home would be much quicker than waiting on Danny to pick her up. She fired off a message to him and headed for the queue.
The cab driver was a taciturn sort, as reluctant to make small talk as Nell. In silence, the taxi glided over the Broomielaw Bridge, its path mirrored by a red and grey train pulling out of the nearby station. Less than fifteen minutes later, they pulled up outside her home.
“Keep the change,” she mumbled, stepping out into the cool night. Her hands fumbled with her keys, the metal slipping from her fingers and clinking against the gravel twice before she finally managed to unlock the door.
The front door creaked open, revealing the wide hallway with its dark parquet flooring, polished to a muted shine. As she stepped inside, Corrie came charging toward her, tail wagging, weaving eagerly between her legs.
“Alright, alright,” she murmured, heading to the kitchen to top up his bowl with a handful of biscuits. Corrie tucked in happily as she grabbed an ice-cold bottle of water from the fridge and trudged upstairs.
In her bedroom, she stripped off in record time and pulled the thick duvet over herself with a weary sigh. Corrie jumped onto the bed beside her, delighted to find plenty of space as there was just one occupant tonight.
Her gaze drifted to the photo on her bedside table: a younger version of herself, grinning ear to ear, wrapped in Danny’s arms. His chin rested on the top of her head, his face full of quiet, protective joy.
Could you have cheated on me…?
