Page 111 of The Home Grown
Johnny nods.
We spend the next half an hour mulling over my woes, trying to figure out how this can actually work, but I’m no further forward from the plan Ellie and I already have—apart from the fact that I have to convince her to come to several more things than she was originally expecting.
“Well, I guess I’ll sleep on it,” I say, standing.
Johnny rises too, patting me on the shoulder and giving me the most pitiful expression.
“Betts—do me a favour, will you? Don’t get emotionally invested. Because if this is just something for her to pass the time, the last thing you want to do is catch feelings.”
“Feelings? Nah, don’t worry about that,” I say.
But I fear it’s already too late.
I get backto my apartment and settle myself on the sofa for the night, not wanting to wake Ellie up or assume because we slept together, she’d be comfortable sharing a bed.
I pull my phone out and navigate to the team group chat, hovering my fingers over the keyboard as I pick my words because there’s no way in hell I’m telling the guys in person, face to face—eyes on me as they judge; a text will do to break the news.
I take a breath, navigate away and scroll socials for a bit before finding the confidence buried within me. The confidence I need so desperately.
Bettsy
Just wanted to let you all know I got married.
I stare at the words, then tap delete, clearing the text.
Bettsy
Guys … good news. I’m married!
I delete that too.
Then I try for a third time.
Bettsy
FYI. I got married.
Yes, she exists.
No, I didn’t pay her.
Yes, she knows what she’s signed up for (I think).
No further questions at this time.
But now you know.
I realise there’s no simple way of putting it. And with any luck, no one will read it until the morning, and I can save the ridicule until tomorrow?—
Ah shit.
There’s an influx of replies; my phone buzzing in the palm of my hand as the messages stream in. But I don’t read any. There’s a noise from the hallway that draws my attention away.
I crane my head to see Ellie standing at the threshold of the living room.
She says nothing. She simply pads over to the sofa and pulls back the fleece blanket. Then she squeezes herself onto the cushions next to me, pulling my arm around her.
And it’s everything. Everything I didn’t realise I needed.
