Page 60 of Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)
Shit. I squirm on my chair and doodle on the table with my finger. My wounded self-esteem lapped up Brooklyn’s loyalty after he hurt me two years ago. But that was then. I don’t like her bad mouthing him now. Not that I blame her. It’s my own fault.
“He really wasn’t that much of an arsehole, Brook.”
She scoffs. “All right, I know you’ve got a bad case of brain fog, what with all the amazing sex you’re having. But I haven’t forgotten the things he said to you. All I’m saying is, don’t fall for him. Okay?”
Too late.
“I don’t have brain fog.” That’s safer than confronting the wholefalling for himthing.
Worry flashes over her face, which in a way is worse than her slagging Will off. “Mac,” she begins, and there’s nothing else for it. If I want to avoid talking about one thing, I’ll have to admit to the other.
“Look. Here’s the thing.” I fiddle with my fork so I don’t have to look at her. Admitting my sins isn’t an easy task. “He was never really that much of a bastard to me afterward. It was me. And all that stuff I told you? They were his responses to my snide digs.”
She’s silent for so long, I risk glancing up. She frowns at me. “Why didn’t you tell me? Anyway, not that it excuses him. I reckon he still owes you an apology.”
I can’t help leaping to his defense. “He really doesn’t. Anyway, we’ve gone past all that.”
She folds her arms on the table and leans forward. “Are you two going to keep dating when you go back to Uni?”
“What?No.You know this is temporary. I’m just getting him out of my system. Like you suggested,” I add, unnecessarily, but I feel she’s abdicating her share of the responsibility here.
“And have you?”
I’m tempted to tell heryes. But first, she wouldn’t believe me. And second, there’s no way I’d ever lie outright to her. It was bad enough only telling her half the truth about Will for the last couple of years.
“I’m getting there.”Bloody hope I am.
“You do realize it’s Friday, right?” she says, as though I might’ve forgotten Will and I only have a couple more nights together before we call it quits. “You’re cutting it a bit fine.”
Don’t I know it. “Ohshit.”
“What?” She asks.
I let out an annoyed breath. “We’ve got that Atomic Fire party tomorrow night.”
“Can’t you just go for an hour? To show your faces?”
Maybe. But Saturday is our last night together, and I don’t want to share it with anyone else. Least of all a celebrity-packed bash stuffed with paparazzi.
“I don’t know. I suppose it depends on how Jake is.”
I’ll call Lucas and tell him I’m busy Saturday and can’t make the party. Except that’s pointless if Will doesn’t cancel, too. And if we both pull out at the last moment, how suspicious will that look?
Seems I have no choice. And then I get a brainwave.
Why don’t I just go to Uni early Monday morning? That gives us another whole day together. Why didn’t I think of that before?
…
Will
Thank fuck it’s Friday.
It’s my usual end of week mantra, especially after the end-of-month review and forecast financial meeting, but there’s an additional rush of anticipation this afternoon. Like the adrenaline high when I’m due to go to Wales, except it’s different.
Better.
Because I’m seeing Mac after work.
