Chapter 13 #2
They try to get me back on topic, but I can’t get past what they revealed. I lean forward toward Indie. “Wait. Are you saying that Cam is the only man you’ve ever slept with?”
She nods.
“And now you’re going to marry him?”
Her smile grows and she nods even harder.
I sit back, shocked. “I’m amazed.”
“Why?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Because you’re so confident in your decision.
I went off to Uni thinking I needed my horizons widened.
Growing up in Chigwell, I had such blinders on all the time.
All I saw was my own little world. Then the moment something went wrong, it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me.
I had to leave. I needed to experience other cultures.
I wanted to meet men who made me feel less fragile. ”
Indie stares back at me thoughtfully. “Booker makes you feel fragile?”
I nod. “Like cracked glass.”
Belle pries, “What did he do?”
My belly heaves with pain. An old pain. A pain I don’t care to revisit and give life to, but a pain I can’t ignore anymore.
“God, you guys must think I’m pathetic opening up to you like this after one bloody drink.
I just have nowhere to go for advice because the person I normally go to is whom I need advice about!
” I sob internally over how wretched this entire thing is.
“Go ahead and let it out. We’re here to listen,” Indie says, reaching over and touching my forearm. It feels nice.
I groan and reply, “He took a place that meant a lot to me…to us…to our friendship, and he shared it with someone else.”
“Another girl?” Indie asks, her voice quiet.
I nod and add, “It wrecked everything I thought I knew. It made me feel like I must have been delusional about things I thought were special between us. Surely I was off track. I didn’t see the truth.”
“Which was…” Belle prompts.
“That Booker didn’t love me the way I loved him.”
“He was eighteen,” Belle says in his defense.
“So was I.” My eyes begin to well, so I quickly slosh another drink in my mouth. “That only means it hurt that much more.”
“But now you’re both grown up,” Indie says, a helpful gleam in her eyes. “Maybe this means things have changed. Girls mature faster than boys. Surely he’s caught up and you see a maturity in Booker now.”
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t come back to London hoping to see a difference in him.
I came back for a great job. Regaining a friendship with Booker was just going to be a big bonus.
I really did miss him, but I feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
” The image of his eyes on me at Old George flashes through my mind.
Then the image of his eyes on me in my bedroom after we slept together and he flipped the switch. “Things are so complicated between us.”
“Because you’re not fucking kids anymore,” Belle states pragmatically.
“Because you’re both shit hot and living under the same roof with plenty of free time.
That’s sexual tension for miles. Couple that with a history of friendship and heartache, and you’re in the middle of a proverbial shit storm. ”
I groan and cover my face with my hands. “I know. So what do I do? I have to move out, don’t I? I was foolish to think spending this much time with Booker would help us become Booker and Poppy again. I realise now that too much has happened. Too much has changed. I need to get out.”
“Fuck that,” Belle growls. “You need to take the power back.”
Indie’s eyes brighten. “Yes! I agree. Listen to Belle. She’s the queen of crazy Jedi mind tricks.”
Belle rolls her eyes. “I don’t think you can move out without knowing the truth.”
“What truth?” I ask.
“If he’s in love with you, too.”
I swallow hard and huff awkwardly. “I’m not in love with him. I thought I was when I was eighteen, but I was a child. I didn’t know what love was.”
“And now you do,” Belle states. “And you still love him. It’s written all over your face.”
Belle’s dark eyes pin me with a challenge. A heavy challenge. Indie’s head snaps back and forth between the two of us, caught in the middle of a silent standoff of wills. Admitting the truth out loud is terrifying. It’s one thing to think it in my head, but another to say it out loud to witnesses!
Do I love reminiscing with Booker? Yes. Do I love joking around with him? Yes. Do I love watching movies with him? Yes. Do I love drinking with him and dancing to music in the kitchen? Yes. Do I love being his flatmate? Yes, even in awkward moments.
Do I love the feeling of his hands on me as he pushes inside of me completely bare, nothing between us but flesh, vein, and muscle?
Fuck yes.
Do I love the feeling of his lips on mine? Do they give me life and make me feel like he’s wrong and that we are more than friends?
A thousand times yes.
I used to confide my inner most secrets to Booker and that is what’s missing. And it’s missing because I’ve been harbouring this secret from him for years.
I’m in love with my best friend, maybe more than ever now.
I’m the first to blink. “What should I do? He seems intent on pushing me away every time things escalate between us.”
Suddenly, the door opens and my heart leaps into my chest when I see Booker stroll in without a care in the world.
He’s kitted out with a sleeping Rocky strapped inside a cloth sling across his chest like she’s part of his outfit.
My cheeks heat as my eyes graze over his tight white, cotton T-shirt pulling at the biceps.
One sleeve has a little bit of dried baby spit on the shoulder, but it doesn’t detract from the rich olive tone of his thick neck.
His jeans are tight around his thighs, and his hair has that soft unkempt wave on top.
It’s how he looks in the morning when he’s just woken up.
Three pairs of eyes stare wide and wild on him as he twirls his keys around his finger. He looks up, noticing us for the first time and freezes.
“What?” he asks, wiping his mouth like we’re staring at something smeared all over it.
“Nothing!” I sing.
“Yeah, nothing,” Indie chimes in.
“What are you doing here?” Belle rushes out, her tone way too conspicuous to be normal.
He frowns at our peculiar faces. “I forgot my mobile. I figured I’d need it in case Rocky started choking or something.
” He reaches down and strokes her feathery blonde tresses as she slumbers beautifully.
“I know what you’re going to say. She only eats soft food.
But hell if I know what can happen to a baby.
This is the first time Vi’s let me babysit, so I’m nervous.
And my mind has certainly run wild. I came up with about eighteen different ways she could die all because I didn’t have my mobile to call an ambulance.
Then I walked back here to grab it because I haven’t a clue how to run that car seat business to load her in my truck. ”
He picks up his mobile from the kitchen counter and then eyes the three of us once again. “What are you guys doing?”
“Nothing,” I stammer.
“Drinking!” Indie flashes him her glass.
God, why can’t we stop acting like morons.
Belle adds, “We were doing wedding stuff.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I say, sounding a bit too impressed by her stellar response.
Booker tugs on his earlobe. “Oh? Everything going all right?” He looks at me.
“Yeah, lovely,” Belle answers for me. “I have a question, though.” She gets an evil look in her eyes as she gestures between me and Booker. “Are you two coming as each other’s dates to the wedding?”
We both laugh awkwardly and sputter, “No.”
“No?” she repeats, her voice rising at the end with suspicion.
Booker looks at me again, and I shake my head as he says, “No. Just mates. You know. Booker and Poppy.” His hands hold onto Rocky for comfort as the skin on his neck turns red.
“Perfect! Then you can each bring dates. My parents aren’t fucking coming, and I paid a bomb to have fresh lobster brought in.”
“Erm…I’m not sure—” I stammer and Booker interrupts.
“What about the paparazzi—” he adds.
Belle cuts him off. “We’ve tipped the paparazzi off with a fake location and a fake date.
Just don’t tell your guests where you’re taking them and we’ll be fine.
I need this, guys. My parents are pompous, egotistical prats, and I want my wedding to be a fun party.
It’s the anti-wedding basically. It would really mean a lot to me if you both brought dates so I don’t have to stare their fucking lobsters in the eyeballs and have a Bridesmaids giant cookie freak-out moment, all right? ”
She shoots us a crazy smile. A frightening smile. A smile that leaves no more room for argument.
We both nod.
“All right then, I’ll just erm…leave you ladies to your evening.” Booker wiggles Rocky’s sleeping hand goodbye and strides out of the flat.
When the door clicks shut, all three of us exhale with relief. “Do you think he heard us?” I ask, my eyes wide and worried.
“Not a chance,” Belle replies confidently.
“What the fuck are you trying to start with this date thing, Belle? I don’t want to watch Booker with another girl,” I state, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to sulk too much.
“Oh, you’ll see,” she smirks and sits back, mirroring my stance and blowing on her nails like she just finished an epic bout. “Just get yourself a fucking date.”
I nod and look at her and Indie. “So, do you guys want to talk about wedding music now?”
Belle laughs. “Fuck no. That was complete bullshit. We just wanted to drill you about Booker.”
Before the end of the night, I realise that Belle and Indie are master manipulators. Grade-A, psych ward level shit. Like maximum penitentiary prison type psychoses. Like Harley Quinn and The Joker from Suicide Squad are fuzzy puppies with good temperaments next to them.
After about four more Tequila Sunrises, we decide to map out my next two weeks leading up to the wedding. It’s aimed at setting things up so that the wedding will be Booker’s breaking point, so to speak.
Belle titled the list:
HOW TO GET BOOKER HARD by Dr. Love.
I might have side-eyed her concerning the title, but their suggestions are pretty spectacular.