28. James
Chapter 28
James
“ F uck!” I yell, returning to the kitchen and kicking the bar-stool under the counter. My breathing comes in ragged gasps as I struggle to get a grip, my hands clenched behind my head, tugging at my hair in frustration. What went wrong? We had an incredible night together—I’ve never had sex like that before. And then she just … ran.
I replay the morning over and over in my head, questioning everything.
Was the coffee and croissant too much?
Did I creep her out?
Was I too … relaxed about everything?
I don’t know what to make of it.
She came to me, not the other way around.
She almost kissed me at the bar—not the other way around.
I pull my phone from my pocket and open my text thread with Oliver. I need to talk to someone, and God knows Will and Tom are fucking useless when it comes to women. I punch out a quick message.
Me: Hey mate, are you free this morning? I think I fucked up.
I watch the three little dots appear, and when Oliver’s reply comes through moments later, I let out a breath of relief.
Oliver: Yeah, mate, you okay? I was heading to Hyde Park for a coffee and a stroll in 20, if you want to meet around there?
Me: Sounds good. Meet at the Peter Pan statue?
Oliver: See you soon.
I drop my phone on the counter and change out of my daggy clothes. I quickly shove my legs into a pair of shorts, throwing on a grey T-shirt and slipping back into my trainers in record time. I rush past the kitchen, my gaze landing on the breakfast we barely touched. I close my eyes as hurt floods through me.
I can’t help but dissect every word April said this morning, hoping that by analysing them closely enough, I’ll uncover the truth.
This was a mistake.
She couldn’t have meant that, right? Last night was many things, but a mistake certainly wasn’t one of them. She told me there was something real between us. So, what happened this morning that made her change her mind?
What if I pushed her too hard in bed?
Perhaps I came on too strong and made her pull away?
The idea that this could be my fault coils uncomfortably inside me.
I mull over all the possible reasons, but no matter how many scenarios I consider, I keep circling back to the same answer.
My brother.
It has to be.
Shoving my phone and wallet into my back pocket, I snatch up my keys and head out the door, quickening my steps.
It’s half eight on a weekend and the streets are already alive, even at this early hour. Couples and friends huddle together, coffee cups in hand. People walk their dogs, leads tugging as the dogs sniff out every scent the city has to offer. Everyone goes about their morning as if it’s all so normal—so easy —yet I feel anything but.
My legs move on autopilot, and I make it to Hyde Park in record time. I try to calm myself by watching the birds peck at the grass, and a squirrel scurries across the path in front of me, disappearing into a bed of dense shrubbery.
I’ve always loved London in the summer—there’s a quiet beauty to it—the buildings, the gardens, the people. I spot Oliver weaving through a crowd of joggers, two coffee cups in hand. Like me, he’s tall, towering over most people, making him easy to pick out in the busy park. He grins as he hands me a cup.
“Cheers, mate,” I say, raising the cup in thanks.
He gives me a solid pat on the back and nods ahead, and we start strolling. “Alright, tell me,” he says, nudging me. “What’s going on?”
“April came over last night.”
“April came over, did she?” He barely conceals his smirk. “Go on, then.”
I spend a few minutes recounting everything to Oliver, starting from the moment April walked in, right up to when she stormed out. “And then she said, ‘ This was a mistake, ’” I finish.
Oliver winces, sucking in a breath. “Ouch.”
“I need some advice. It’s fucking eating me alive.”
Oliver bites his cheek as he mulls over my words. I stay quiet, letting him think.
“Right,” he says after a beat. “Did you catch her on her phone or anything?”
“Nope.”
“Well, what about the sex? Did she give off any vibe that she wasn’t into it, or didn’t fancy staying over?”
“Mate, considering the multiple orgasms, I’d say she was pretty into it,” I reply, huffing in frustration. “She seemed happy staying over—curled up in my arms all night. Everything was fine, great, in fact, until this morning. Then she just … freaked out and legged it.”
“I’m going to throw this out there, in case you haven’t thought of it,” he says, and I give him a nod to continue. “Lucas.”
“Yeah, I’ve considered that.” My jaw clenches as I try to rein in the anger that flares at the mention of his name.
“Do you reckon there’s a chance she bailed because she loved the sex and how it made her feel this morning?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
His question makes me pause; I hadn’t considered that.
“Like, she isn’t actually upset with me ?” I ask.
“Exactly. I don’t think she’s upset with you, mate. You’ve not done anything wrong. My guess? She’s upset about the situation. I mean, the girl was engaged to your brother. She’s probably feeling a right mess—she was supposed to marry him, and now she’s in your bed.” He shrugs. “I reckon she’s feeling guilty.”
“Guilty,” I repeat, weighing his words.
“Yeah, but not because she feels bad for Lucas—he’s a wanker. She probably feels guilty because, after everything he put her through, maybe part of her thinks she shouldn’t be allowed to find happiness with you .”
The ball drops.
I hadn’t even considered that possibility.
I’d been so wrapped up in thinking Lucas was the issue—wondering if maybe she still had feelings for him, or worse, that she might want him back after everything. But it never crossed my mind that she could be feeling guilty for finding happiness … with me .
It all makes sense now—the way she shut down this morning after asking me what last night meant.
It wasn’t about Lucas, not really—it was about her, about being caught between the pain he caused and the fear of letting herself move on with me. And honestly, I don’t give a fuck about what that sod thinks. Lucas made his choice, and he chose to lose her.
Suddenly, the weight eases off my chest.
Good. This is good .
I might still be in with a chance.
“Fuck. Do you think I should call her?”
Oliver pauses for a moment, thinking it through. “I wouldn’t push her. Not now—it’s all a bit fresh. Give her the day.”
“Okay.” I nod, trying to steady my thoughts. “I’ll give her some time … and then what?”
“Do you want her?”
“Of course I want her.”
“Then do what Lucas didn’t— chase her .”