Page 89 of Vivacity
I purse my lips together before replying. ‘No argument here.’
‘So it’s going well? I don’t have much to go on except what I’ve heard from Marls, but I understand she has a Mustique tan to match yours?’
I’d like to slap that smug grin off his face. ‘Didn’t realise you were such a gossipy little bitch, Sullivan.’
‘Just looking out for my mate. But if she survived a week away with you and she hasn’t run for the hills yet, that’s a good sign, surely?’
He’s nowhere close to the truth.
Sophia.
I allow my mind to drift back to my favourite memories.
The sunset on her face.
Her filthy cackle whenever I said anything that amused her (which was a lot, apparently).
Kissing her. On the shore. In our bed. In the hammock.
I’ve spent the entire day with her, and I still want more. Bren doesn’t need to know that I’m going back to hers for my next fix when I’m done here.
It seems my face betrays me, because Bren slaps his knee with a loud guffaw. ‘Holy fuck! That’s the goofiest grin I’ve ever seen. You’ve got it bad.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Look. It’s going well, alright? She’s really amazing. We’re… seeing how things go.’
He shakes out his wrist. ‘I knew it! I’m thrilled for you, mate, honestly. It’s been a rough year for you—you deserve it.’
‘Thanks. The rough year isn’t over yet. But yeah. She’s a bright spot in it, there’s no doubt about that. She even has me going to therapy—it was one of her conditions.’
To be honest, I’d love to tell him more about all of it—Soph. Therapy. The small green shoots of hope that have started to spring up when I consider that my future may actually have the potential to be anything other than a write-off. But even if Bren is one of my closest mates, there’s still an element of holdingmyself back. I give him what I think he wants, which really amounts to easy banter. He doesn’t want or need to know what the darkest corners of my soul look like. I’ll reserve that for Philip, given I’m paying him handsomely for the privilege.
He gives a low whistle. ‘Fucking hell. You in therapy—I never thought I’d see the day. Good on you, mate. So you’re dating?’
‘Kind of. I suppose so.’ Ifdateslook like lingering dinners at the Cotton House, our legs intertwined under the table, or champagne picnics on the beach at sunset that morph into skinny dipping and sea sex, or the strangest feeling that every meal, every drink shared, is a moment I wish could last forever. ‘We have a thing this weekend, actually—as a couple. Some friends of hers are having a Christmas party, and I promised I’d go with her. Aide Duffy—do you know him?’
‘We’re going too,’ Bren says, and relief rushes through me.
‘Thank fuck. I think some of the Montagues will be there—not my idea of a relaxing night. How do you guys know each other?’
‘I’ve met him a few times in passing at various fundraisers. He’s a good guy. And Marls met Aide’s wife Lotta a while ago through your girlfriend and it seems they hit it off.’
I ignore his use of the G-word. He won’t get a rise out of me. ‘Well, as long as you’re prepared to act as a human shield if things get ugly,’ I mutter instead.
He grins. ‘I’m fucking massive. I can cover you easily, mate.’
The thing is, I know he means it. This may just be the only friendship I have that isn’t transactional. He doesn’t need anything from me, doesn’t fear me, doesn't want to impress me. He just... likes me.
I’m not sure when that became so rare.
CHAPTER 40
Sophia
Obviously, I’m nervous about engineering a social situation where Ethan meets my friends. I’d be nervous even if Nora and Theo weren’t going to be at Lotta’s party. After all, my gorgeous boss isn’t much of a people person, and I’m fully aware that the walls he erects around himself when he’s uncomfortable can come across as a bit… prickly, let’s say.
But it’s tough shit, because I’m damned if I’m going to fly solo at a fabulous Christmas party where everyone else will be loved up. Besides, he’s so handsome! I want to hang off his lovely strong arm far more than I should. I want to show him off.
And I definitely want a masterful, Ethan Kingsley-branded kiss under the mistletoe at some point.
