Page 82 of Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)
She smiles, but it looks a little strained. I’ve no clue what to say next.
“Hmm,” Brooklyn says. “Shall I get the popcorn?”
Mac ignores her. “Do you want a coffee? We were about to make some tea. Come into the kitchen.”
We follow her into the kitchen, where she flaps her hand at us to sit at the breakfast bar while she fills the percolator and kettle. Brooklyn nudges my arm.
“Well,” she says. “You’re a dark horse, aren’t you? Setting up a side business in Wales.”
Mac comes over and leans against the breakfast bar next to Brooklyn. “It’s not a side business.”
Which reminds me. She hasn’t heard my news yet. “I’m moving to Wales for good in a couple of months. You were right, too.” I give a faint smile. “I put my flat on the market yesterday.”
“Wow.” She looks amazed. “That’s brilliant. I’m so pleased you’re going for it. How did your mum take it?”
“We’ve been on the phone every night this week. She’s been great. And guess what? Jeremy bloody Jones supports me one hundred percent.”
“Oh my God.” She leans across Brooklyn. “He’s not after your place on the board, is he?”
“You’re cynical.” I grin at her. “That’s the first thing I thought, as well.”
“I havenoidea who this Jeremy bloody Jones is.” Brooklyn sounds pissed off, so I give her a quick explanation while Mac makes our drinks.
“And no,” I say as she brings our cups over. “He doesn’t want anything to do with the company. I owe him averysmall one for his support.”
“Are you going to buy a place in Wales, then?”
“Once my flat sells.” And what a relief to get rid of that fucking great mortgage. “I’ll be renting for a while at first.”
As we finish our drinks, I can feel the moment slipping away. How am I going to grovel if I can’t get Mac on her own? If only Brooklyn could take a hint and disappear for a while, but that’s not looking likely.
“Anyway,” Mac says. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow you can come clubbing with us. We’re meeting at the Swan at eight. But obviously, you don’t have to meet us there. I can text you the club we end up at.”
It’s like a reprieve. “Sounds great.” I agree so fast she blinks at me in obvious surprise. “Anyway, thanks for the coffee. I’ll leave you both to it.” She follows me out of the kitchen, and when we’re by the front door, I turn to her. It’s just the two of us, and it’s almost like Saturday night never happened. It’s hard not to cradle her face and give her a lingering kiss, but somehow, I resist. There’s no way I’m fucking this up. If I have to wait four years for our next kiss, then that’s what I’ll do. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
…
Mackenzie
It’s ten to eight as I reach the Swan, and I still can’t get over the fact that last night Will not only went all the way to Oxford to see me, but then drove back to Notting Hill.
It didn’t have anything to do with my box of stuff. He wants us to stay friends.
More than friends?
Brooklyn ignored all my subtle hints to give Will and me some alone time. But that’s okay. If he decides not to come out with us tonight, I’ll make up some excuse to go see him tomorrow.
I push open the door to the pub, and he’s sitting at a table right at the front. For a second, I can’t even believe my eyes. Hedidcome. And he’s early. I’m rooted to the spot like an idiot and don’t know what to say.
“Hey, Mac.” His easy grin breaks my stupid paralysis, and I go over to him as though it’s no big deal he’s here.
“Hi.”
“Got you a Scotch. Hope that was okay.”
My glance drops to the table. “Sure.”
I sit opposite him and take a long gulp of the alcohol. Unfortunately, it doesn’t untie my tongue.
