Page 49 of The Home Grown
“Oh, really? Because we were having a moment.”
He’s right. We were sort of having a moment…
“Didn’t you need the toilet like an hour ago?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from that particular topic.
“You’re too good for him,” he says, reaching for the shot glass, still ignoring his bladder.
“Excuse me?” I say defensively. “That’s not for you to say.”
“I’m just stating a fact, sweetheart.”
And there it is again.
Sweetheart.
With his eyes fixed on mine, he downs a shot, and I swallow—the alcohol clouding my brain.
“Imagine if you got my texts?” he says, breaking away. “I reckon we’d be married for real now.”
I laugh out loud. The booze is definitely running this conversation.
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, I may have a small dick, but it’s not all about that, is it? I’d still have you seeing God.”
He smirks again, and a wave of something ripples through me, but I shake my head.
“I’d be fixing the house up too, making sure your tyres were in a fit state … not to mention all the flowers I’d buy you.”
I gasp. “What do you mean by that?”
“About my little?—”
“No. The flowers.”
“You told me you’re a hopeless romantic. Flowers are up there, right? I bet Langer would never buy you flowers.”
I stare at him in disbelief. As if he remembers me mentioning flowers all those years ago. I don’t even remember how it came up, but the fact he remembers is wild.
His lips twitch with the threat of a smile and a shimmer of something flickers in his eyes, causing a light bulb to spark on in my head.
Even though I find it hard to believe he did like me like that … it’s now written all over his face.
Chapter Ten
BETTSY
There’s a vibratingin the distance.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
And Christ, it’s annoying.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
It’s getting closer.
At least, I think it is.
