Page 44 of Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)
“Thought I’d take you out for dinner.”
My jittery nerves coalesce into a fountain of glee, right in the center of my chest. “Sounds good.”
“Yeah. It’ll be like a date.”
What about afterward?I’m not going to ask him. If he wants me to stay the night, he can askme. “Should I bring my toothbrush?”
Nice one, Mac.I might as well slap a sticker to my forehead withDesperadoon it. Except we’ve already laid out the ground rules for this relationship between us. It’s going to beallabout the sex, so why waste time playing dumb word games?
He reaches across and takes my hand for a brief squeeze. “I’m counting on it.”
It’s almost six when he drops me at home, and it’s hard not giving him a goodbye kiss. But Margo’s car is on the drive, and I don’t want her or Dad accidentally seeing us having a furtive snog. “See you in a couple of hours,” I tell him, and then stand there like a hopeless romantic while he drives off.
I smother my smile and pull out my keys. As I reach the front door I frown and glance back at Margo’s car.
That’s weird. They weren’t due back until Monday night. Panic clutches my chest and my fingers go numb.Did something happen to Dad?
Don’t be ridiculous. Margo would’ve let me know if there’d been an accident or…something. It doesn’t stop the sick sensation swirling in the pit of my stomach as I go inside and drop my bag on the floor.
Please let Dad be all right.There’s no reason why he wouldn’t. He doesn’t have any health issues.
Neither did Mum.
They’re in the kitchen, and relief rushes through me when Dad looks his usual, slightly rumpled, self.Told you there was nothing to worry about.
“Hey.” I give him a hug and hold on to him for longer than usual. When I was little, I used to think he smelled of ancient leather-bound books and faraway places. And although it’s been years since I figured out it was just his cologne, it always triggers feelings of safety and comfort.
He pats my back and kisses the top of my head, the way he always does. After a few moments, I pull back, belatedly remembering that Margo’s here as well.
I wish she wasn’t.
Not that I don’t love her, but I don’t see Dad that much anymore. And sometimes it’d be nice if it was just me and him. Until this summer, I hadn’t realized how often Margo’s around here.
“Hello, Margo.” I give her a smile but don’t go over for my usual hug, since Dad’s holding my hand. A strange little pain worms through my heart. It’s been ages since he held my hand.
Margo smiles back, but there’s an odd tension about it. Somethinghashappened. Instinctively I glance at Dad, but he doesn’t look sick.
Stop overreacting.
I can’t help it.
“I’m so sorry.” Margo takes a deep breath, as though she doesn’t know what to say, and real fear stabs through me. This woman has no problem metaphorically decapitating politicians on live TV. What can possibly be so terrible that she’s finding it this hard to tell me?
I can only think of one thing.
“What is it, Dad?”
Don’t fall apart. Whatever he says, we’ll work it out.
Some things can’t be worked out.The memory of Mum in that Paris hospital floods through me. I’m lightheaded, it’s hard to breathe, and my heartbeat’s erratic.It’s all in my mind.But logic doesn’t help, and I have the scary certainty that if Dad wasn’t holding me, I’d collapse onto the floor.
“Sweetheart, we didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” Dad gazes at me, anxiety etched on his face, and a soundless scream of denial echoes around my head.I don’t want to know.
“Mac.” Margo’s closer now, standing right beside us, but I don’t want her here. “There’s nothing wrong with your dad. He’s fine.”
I tear my gaze from him and stare at her. There’s a strange expression on her face, but I’ve no time to try and figure it out. I turn back to Dad.
“You’re not sick?”
