Page 63 of Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)
What’s that supposed to mean?
“I’ve got nothing better to do. Might as well.”
“There’s no need to sound so excited about it.”
“It’s not what I imagined we’d be doing for our last day together.”
“I know.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “But I had this idea. I could put off going to Oxford until early Monday morning. That gives us an extra night. What do you think?”
I loop my arms around her. She smiles at me and links her hands behind my neck. A few strands of her hair drift across her cheek in the breeze, and even though we’re in the middle of a busy public park, she’s the only one I see. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll take Monday off and drive you up to Oxford myself.”
It’s almost 1:00 p.m. on Saturday when I park on Mac’s drive, behind Harry’s Range Rover. She went home earlier this morning, and I went for an extra-long run around the park. But it didn’t burn off the excess energy buzzing through my blood. I’m not sure if it’s because I have to pretend in front of her family there’s nothing going on between Mac and me, or because I missed not having her jogging by my side.
I exhale a long breath. She’s jogged with me only a handful of times. Don’t know why it feels like she always has.You’re losing your fucking grip.
Or it’s a side effect of guilt. That sounds more like it.
Harry opens the door for me. “We were about to start without you.”
“I’m not late.” I was told to arrive between twelve thirty and one. I didn’t want to look desperate and turn up early.
Harry shrugs. “The food arrived ten minutes ago. Margo’s acting weird.”
Instead of going into the sitting room where we usually have informal lunches, Harry heads to the dining room. Seriously, I thought the Carters only ever used that room at Christmas.
The table’s decked out like something from a reality show. In the center there’s a big display of dried flowers and leaves and huge twigs. I catch Mac’s eye, where she’s sitting at one end of the table, and her smile is agonized.
Bloody hell. This looks more like something my mother used to arrange when she did her charity lunches than anything I’m used to with the Carters.
“Ah, Will.” Their dad shakes my hand. “Good of you to make it.”
“Wonderful.” Margo gives me her usual air kiss, but even I can feel the odd tension radiating from her. And I’ve been told, several times, that I’m about as sensitive as a rock when it comes to stuff like that.
“Thanks for the invite.” It’s hard, but I manage not to glance in Mac’s direction. That plan’s doomed as soon as Margo waves me to the chair on Mac’s left.
Harry sits next to Alice, and they exchange an unreadable glance. Obviously, Mac and I aren’t the only ones feeling out of place. I pull out my chair and park my arse.
“Well, now.” Margo beams her professional smile around the table, the smile she usually reserves for when she’s in front of the camera. “Everyone, help yourself to lunch.” She waves a hand to the sideboard, which is overflowing with covered dishes.
Nobody moves.
At times like this, Lucas with his big mouth and easy charm would be a godsend. Harry, on the other hand, just slouches in his chair, looking vaguely bemused by the whole thing.
I leap to my feet. “Great. I’m starving.” I saunter over to the sideboard and pick up a plate. “This all looks fantastic.”
“Thank you, Will.” Margo sounds relieved. “It’s fromArchipelago.”
“I didn’t even know they delivered,” Mac says, appearing by my side and taking a helping of delicate-looking ravioli.
“They don’t usually.” Margo hands a plate to Mac’s dad. “But I have contacts.”
“I’ve never even heard of them.” Harry lifts the lid of a dish that contains something hot and aromatic.
“That’s because you’re a philistine,” Mac says sweetly. “It’s onlytheplace to go locally.”
We return to our seats, and another awkward silence falls. Margo’s next to me, I’m opposite Harry, and I can’t even see Alice because of the dried forest taking up half the table.
At least the food’s good.
