Chapter 7
Millie
Isnapped my laptop shut and slid the sleek silver computer back into its matching case.
We'd just finished up our last class of the day in anatomy and physiology, and I was more than ready for the weekend.
As much as I loved uni and enjoyed the challenge, the classes could be long and gruelling.
Come Friday, I was more than ready to chill out.
Alessio was going to be late getting home tonight, so I didn't have to worry about dinner. I planned to eat my weight in cheese and wine and have a nice soak in the bath before heading to bed.
“What are you all up to this weekend?” Libby asked our small group as we packed up. She was a bubbly nineteen-year-old from Reading, and the first friend I made here.
"I'm heading to Brighton this weekend," Julia, another classmate, enthused. "Radio 7 is doing their Big Beach Weekend, and I managed to snag tickets. DJ Hop-To is performing."
"Argh, I'm so jealous!"
They continued to chat about the festival and the various acts performing.
I only half listened as I collected my pens.
Compared to everyone here, I felt like a decade older.
I still recalled the dumbfounded look on their faces when they learned I was married—and had been since I was eighteen.
Although I did fudge my age to nineteen, which wasn't too far off base since I was one month shy of it at the time I'd wed Alessio.
I also had to neatly sidestep the question on the length of our courtship before we married.
Somehow, I didn't think they'd understand that I agreed to marry Alessio after only one meeting because he wanted to acquire my father's hotels and that my father wanted his legacy to stay in the family.
It didn't quite have the romantic ring to it.
A nudge against my shoulder drew me back into the fold. Archie, another first year, grinned down at me.
"What about you, Millie?" he asked, brown eyes twinkling. "Got any big plans this weekend?
Archie was the same age as me with gentle eyes, a handsome boy-next-door face, and a tall, solid frame.
He was actually the first person to approach me when I sat alone, feeling completely overwhelmed.
He'd casually flirted with me, but then his eyes clocked my extravagant wedding and engagement rings, and he immediately backed off.
"Um…I have a dinner party on Saturday." That was a slight understatement. It was a birthday party at a top restaurant in Knightsbridge. The birthday girl, Lady Sarah Duncan, had hired out the entire restaurant in celebration.
Libby stretched, yawning loudly. "Pub?” she asked to no one in particular. It was a regular occurrence on Fridays.
While they chatted about where to go, I packed away the rest of my books and pens before zipping up my bag.
“Come with us, Millie,” Archie pleaded. “You never come out after class. Just for an hour?”
He clasped his hands together as if begging, drawing a giggle from me.
I was always included in the pub invite, but he was right: every time they asked me out after class, I turned them down.
I always rushed home to Alessio, who still came home early for dinner on the days he was in London.
In fact, sometimes it would be Alessio waiting for me if I had a late class or wanted to study in the library.
I still felt a little odd at the shift in our relationship. Our marriage had entered a new season, and we were still trying to find our footing—especially after the Annabelle of it all. I was insecure in this marriage, and a part of me wondered if I would ever come out of this funk.
So I found myself agreeing to the invite.
The Pig's Head was the nearest pub to our uni and was within walking distance.
It was loud, packed with students, and had sticky tables with round cardboard coasters that were already soaked.
Its decor consisted of silver and copper metal badges plastered to the ceiling and stuck around the walls. Quite the eclectic set-up.
“Here we go,” Archie set down a gin and tonic in front of me, and I smiled my thanks. I'd offered to buy everyone a round of drinks, but Archie had insisted first.
"It’s cool to finally have you out with us,” Libby shouted over the loud Irish folk band playing.
“It’s good to be out.” I took a small sip of my gin and tonic through a short straw.
We were lucky to find a free table in the corner and were stuffed in like sardines to fit.
The alcohol warmed me nicely, and I slowly started to relax.
I wasn't a shy person. I was social, friendly, and could network with the best of them.
But it had been a while since I'd gone out for a casual drink with people my age—and just…
relaxed. At eighteen, I was thrust into adulthood.
I never got to date or go clubbing. I lost my virginity at nineteen to my husband, and not even on my wedding night.
I became responsible for dinner parties and organising charity events.
I never got to experience life as a normal teenager.
Well, as normal as a girl who holidayed in St-Tropez and owned two horses.
As the afternoon bled into evening, more drinks were ordered, along with rounds of chips, garlic bread, wedges, and nachos to soak up the alcohol.
Our conversation soon turned to our coursework and what we ultimately wanted to do once we graduated.
I spoke a little bit about my father and husband's country estates, the many animals I grew up with, and how that was the deciding factor in what I wanted to do with my life.
I tried to downplay the vastness of my homes, but from their bug-eyed expressions, I knew they'd clocked I was from old money.
Luckily, they carried on and didn't treat me any differently.
More people joined our table; some I didn't recognise, but I knew they were all students from my uni.
Most of them were quite loud and boisterous, so Archie and I had broken away to have our own private conversation.
He was an interesting bloke, and we had a lot in common.
He lived in Shepherd's Bush with four flatmates, but his family still lived in Kent, where he was from.
"I'm looking for somewhere to do volunteer work," Archie confided as he downed the rest of his Guinness.
Our conversation was starting to wind down, but he didn't seem all that keen on me leaving.
"I was at a shelter in Tottenham, but they didn't have much for me to do except walk dogs and pet cats. "
"I might know a place," I offered. Warmth heated my cheeks, and I felt a little giddy.
Definitely tipsy. "I'm volunteering soon again at a shelter in Wimbledon.
I know the owner." Gosh, that sounded pretentious, but I couldn't help that I had connections.
"I can put in a good word and ask if they can take you on? "
Archie's eyes lit up. "Yeah? That would be incredible, Millie. Thank you." His eyes crinkled in the corners, and their brown depths heated. "Especially if I'll be doing it with you."
Red touched my cheeks, and another feeling of warmth snaked through me. I broke eye contact and snatched up my water glass. It was then that I noticed my phone ringing. Oh, shit. Alessio. I'd texted him that I was heading to the pub by the lecture hall for a quick drink. That was three hours ago.
“I'm just going to step out to take this.”
I placed the phone to my ear as I made my way through the crowd. The cold evening air greeted me, sobering me somewhat as the chatter and music faded.
"Hello? Alessio?"
“Where are you?" he demanded. His slightly accented voice scraped me like sandpaper. "I'm near your university.”
What was he doing out here? “Sorry, I got caught up here. I'm still at the pub nearby.”
"Where is it?"
I frowned at his harsh tone. "It’s called The Pig’s Head.”
There was a beat of silence. “The Pig’s Head,” he sounded out the words slowly. “Right. I’ll be there soon.”
“Oh, but I’m not ready to lea—” the words died on my lips when I realised he hung up on me. I stuffed my phone back into my pocket with a huff, annoyed that he was forcing me home.
“You alright?”
I turned to the sound of Archie's voice, unaware that he had followed me outside. He was leaning against the wall of the pub, smoking a cigarette. He offered one to me, and I shook my head.
"Yeah, I'm fine. That was my husband."
He took a long drag before nodding thoughtfully. “You off, then?”
I gave him an apologetic smile, thankful that I had brought my bag out with me. I might as well stay out here to wait for him. “Looks like it, sorry. I’ll have to buy you all another round some other time.”
“Don’t worry about it." He stubbed his cigarette out on the metal boxes attached to the wall. "You’ve already done me a favour by setting me up with work.”
He rubbed his hands down his jeans, suddenly looking nervous. He cleared his throat as he stuck his hands into his pockets. “Hey, my band plays gigs at The Rose and King in Acton on Saturday nights. You should come watch us play.”
“Oh, I didn't know you were in a band.”
His shoulders lifted in a careless shrug. “It's nothing fancy. We don’t play our own music, just covers.”
“What kind of songs?”
His hand rubbed at the back of his neck. “The Stone Roses, The Verve, Oasis, Arctic Monkeys, that kind of vibe.”
“Oh.”
He laughed. “From your face, I can tell it’s not really your scene.”
Pink climbed my cheeks as I joined his laughter. “Well, to be perfectly honest, I don’t know what my scene is. I married quite young, you see, so I haven’t had time to see bands in pubs.”
“Then come next Saturday.” He dug out his wallet and produced a wrinkled paper.
I smoothed the flyer out. “The Heath's,” I read.
“It’s my last name.”
I smiled at him as I folded the paper and placed it in my purse. Saturdays were busy for me, so I couldn’t confirm anything yet. “I’ll try and come to one of your gigs."
“Millie.”