Chapter 4
SARAH
mirrorball | Taylor Swift
I love my best friend.
I love my best friend.
I love my best friend.
That was the mantra running through Sarah’s mind as she waited outside a pretty stationery shop on a quiet, tree-lined street.
Given the time crunch, it was inevitable that wedding planning duties would end up overlapping. And understandable that duties would be delegated to her and Alex in those situations. Apparently the only time the stationery shop could accommodate them lined up with the only time Abby and Erik could book their cake tasting, and Sarah knew which she’d prefer to do herself if it were her wedding. So she was only too happy to help, but she would have been far happier to do it without Alex’s company.
‘Why doesn’t Zoe come with me?’ she’d suggested, when Abby asked her to procure the wedding invites.
‘You and Alex both have such a great eye. And he’ll know what Erik would like. Plus…he’d never say it, but I think it’ll mean a lot to him to be involved in the planning process. And you’re the next most important person in my life; he’s the next most important person in Erik’s. It would mean a lot to me for you two to get to know each other.’ Abby had shrugged, blissfully ignorant of the fact that they knew each other better than she could ever guess.
What Abby hadn’t told her was that Alex would be cutting it extremely fine to make their appointment. Sarah checked her phone again, hoping against hope that he’d cancelled and she could go ahead by herself. No text. But there was an email from her website notifying her that— No. She’d assumed it was a commission enquiry, her chest already going cold at the thought of trying to fit another client into her already crammed schedule, but…she’d made a sale. A real sale.
One of her favourite pieces, painted in a frenzy the week after she’d found out Gregg was cheating. It had been meant as a catharsis. She’d had no plan for it, just loaded up her palette with a spread of colours and let the hurt and anger simmer out stroke by stroke. By the end, she’d felt free.
And someone called Kevin, at a business address in Central London, wanted it.
She was still reeling when—one minute before they were supposed to be inside—shoes appeared in her field of vision, followed by dark blue trousers and a crisp white shirt as her eyes ventured up, finally landing on Alex’s annoyingly pretty face.
‘You look good,’ he drawled.
She did, and she knew it—when painting, she usually stuck to leggings and oversized shirts, so when the opportunity came up to go out, she took care to look and feel good—but he wasn’t supposed to be commenting on it. He certainly wasn’t supposed to be leering down the neckline of her sundress.
‘You’re late.’
‘I am exactly on time,’ he corrected, brushing past her to hold the door open.
In the shop, a tiny woman with enormous plastic glasses greeted them warmly, bombarding them with questions about design, grammage, texture, and finishes. Sample after sample was thrust upon them, and Sarah pointedly ignored Alex’s long fingers trailing over the small stacks of ivory card. Ignored the memories of those fingers trailing over her skin with similar attentiveness.
It helped that as she diligently flipped through design options, Alex flirted with the saleswoman instead of helping.
When she’d had enough of hearing how sparkly the old lady’s eyes were, Sarah excused them with a polite smile in her direction, that quickly turned into a scowl when she began talking to Alex.
‘If you’re done sweet talking her, can we settle on a design? I say this one.’ She held out a card with a pretty floral design and swirling letters that she knew Abby would love. ‘On the metallic finish cardstock with gold foil.’
Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so.’
What was his problem?
‘Abby will think it’s perfect.’
‘She’s not the only one getting married,’ Alex shot back. ‘This one’—he handed her another card, with a beautiful celestial design on it—‘is perfect for both of them. He’ll like the blue. She’ll like the stars. It’s got nostalgia tied to it.’ She didn’t know the history, and wouldn’t give him the pleasure of asking, but from the visual alone, she knew they would both love it. She hated that she hadn’t seen it first. ‘Also, Erik will kill us if they’re not both recycled and recyclable, so that’s a no to the metallic card and the gold foil. And for your information, while I was sweet talking her, I negotiated a bulk discount on the printing and convinced her to take a week off her production time.’
Well, that was frustrating.
Although it was probably inevitable that a sweet old lady would be taken in by his put upon charm.
Still, after ensuring he had all the correct information, Sarah left him to finalise the order while she sulked in the corner. Of course he was right about the paper too. Erik would be horrified if a hundred pieces of cardstock bearing his name ended up in the rubbish.
‘Do you want to grab a coffee? I didn’t have time to stop for one this morning, and my caffeine withdrawal is going to become very unpleasant very soon.’
He’d almost been late for the ten o’clock appointment on a Saturday and hadn’t had time to stop for coffee? How late had he slept?
‘No,’ Sarah said tersely. ‘We should probably talk though.’ Her arms were folded, partly in frustration, but partly out of the need to keep something solid between them.
‘I’m all ears.’ That smirk was back, and she was desperate to wipe it from his face. ‘I’ll drive you home. We can talk in the car.’
She was not getting into an enclosed space with him.
‘Look, I guess we’re going to have the misfortune of seeing each other a lot in the coming weeks—’
‘Not a misfortune for me.’ Alex’s grin was wide.
‘—so we need to lay down some ground rules.’ Despite her frustration with him, she fought to keep her voice calm and measured. ‘Mainly, Abby and Erik never find out that we…’ The pretty, quaint street, with sun streaming down on them through the trees, felt too pure a place to talk about that night.
‘Groped each other in public before having great sex in a frankly disgusting bathroom?’
‘Not how I was going to phrase it, but sure.’
‘How would you describe what happened, Princess?’ Alex cocked his head to one side, eyes suddenly curious under furrowed brows.
‘ Stop calling me that,’ she hissed.
‘You know, generally I’m all about consent,’ he drawled, ‘but that’s not going to happen.’
‘Fine, Aleks ander .’ She drew out the end of his name, and her sick enjoyment when his eyes flashed was the first time she’d found herself having fun that morning.
‘As for your first request, if either of them ever ask outright, I’m not going to lie to my family. They know that sort of thing isn’t…unusual…for me. And I don’t see them judging either of us for a chance, anonymous encounter. But unless that happens, I’m prepared to withhold some information.’
Relief came in a wave, clearing her mind enough that she realised they’d started walking, and it seemed Alex had steered them towards his car, parked down a small side street. Sarah grimaced when he held the passenger door open for her.
‘I’d rather walk.’ Turning on her heel, she stomped back the way they’d come. Chancing a look behind her when she reached the corner, she found his eyes bouncing up from her ass as he leaned against his car— of course he had a sports car—the smirk that seemed like a permanent feature splayed proudly across his face.
Pig.