Chapter 31
SARAH
Blame Brett | The Beaches
Sarah’s head collapsed into her hands the moment she slumped into her Uber—because despite insisting she would take the train, she couldn’t face the thought of being in a car with any number of strangers. But more than that, she couldn’t face being alone with him, sure that if he kissed her again with anywhere near the care he had the night before, she would sag against him and say all the things she was barely keeping in.
Things like your eyes have become my favourite blue , and I’ve never wanted anything the way I want your hands on my waist , and—most terrifying of all— I think I’m falling for you .
Her hopes that her flatmates might still be in bed, allowing her to slip in unnoticed, were dashed when she heard giggles from the other side of their front door. Bracing herself, Sarah plastered on a smile and turned her key in the lock, walking in to find a picture so domestic it left a pain in her chest.
Abby sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, wearing one of Erik’s shirts. He stood between her legs, arms caged around her as he nuzzled into her neck. They both looked up—faces flushed and disgustingly in love—when she stepped on the creaky floorboard all three of them had been threatening to fix for weeks.
‘Morning.’ Abby’s voice was tinged with amusement.
‘Pancakes?’ Erik offered, slightly sheepish.
She’d walked in on them half clothed before. But today, Erik’s bare chest and grey joggers made him look alarmingly like the brother she’d just walked out on.
It could have been her morning.
If she hadn’t run away.
‘No. Thanks.’ Sarah tried to inject some energy into her voice. Tried to make it sound less lifeless than she felt. She was pretty sure she failed. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
Alone in her room, she contemplated a shower, weighing the pros—washing away the vestiges of her night with Alex—against the cons—washing away the vestiges of her night with Alex. Instead, paralysed by indecision, she curled up in her bed and inhaled his shirt like the pathetic mess she was.
That was where Abby found her half an hour later.
‘Hey.’ She slipped in without knocking, as was their usual way. At least, as was Abby’s way. Sarah had started announcing herself early into Erik’s living there. ‘I thought I’d give you a minute before I checked on you. What’s wrong?’
Sarah considered denying it. But there was no way her face hadn’t turned stricken at the sight of them. No way she didn’t look a mess right then.
‘Remember my casual thing?’
Abby crossed to sit on the bed. ‘Not so casual anymore?’
Pretending to be his girlfriend hadn’t been difficult. Not when it was second nature for her body to curve into his. When his lips on her throat were like a magnetic strip finding its pair. Physical intimacy had never been their problem. But the aftermath had left her more confused about her growing feelings than ever.
Sarah nodded glumly.
‘Want to talk about why that doesn’t seem to be a good thing?’
For the first time, Sarah considered coming clean. Not immediately. Abby should have been prepping for her bachelorette party, not managing her friend’s emotions, and she certainly wasn’t going to add to any wedding stress by admitting she was sleeping with the best man. But maybe…maybe after the wedding, when she told Abby about Barcelona, after she and Alex were done, maybe she’d stop lying to her best friend.
‘Not now. Today’s about you . Keep the merlot coming after our massage, and I’ll be grand.’
‘Sarah…’ Green eyes scrunched in front of her.
‘I’m fine, hun.’ Just feeling catastrophically stupid. ‘All I need right now is a pretty masseuse to work out my kinks, then to eat my body weight in pizza and the cinnamon cookies Zoe’s gran made.’ She’d figure out how to face Alex when their parties converged later. ‘Now, are you getting changed before we go, or are you planning to spend the whole day looking like it’s the morning after your booty call?’
Abby frowned, plucking the large white button down away from her skin, then looked pointedly at Sarah’s own oversized men’s t-shirt. ‘Are you ?’
All life’s problems could be solved with a good pair of hands and the perfect amount of alcohol, Sarah decided, as they made their way back to the flat after mind-meltingly good hot stone massages. While she hadn’t yet decided what to do about Alex, at least she’d stopped worrying about it entirely after her second Bellini.
The spa had been a treat just for her and Abby—a way to get the bride-to-be out of the flat long enough for Zoe to decorate for the main event.
A smile spread across Abby’s face as she took in the life-sized Dread Pirate Roberts cutout, the enormous rat pinata hanging from the ceiling—stuffed with lube samples and condoms, Zoe had assured Sarah—‘Iocane’(rum)-infused punch, and ‘Miracle Pill’ party favours. Sarah doubted the aphrodisiac chocolate worked, but as long as it was delicious, what was the harm either way?
Phase one of the party consisted of a stack of pizza boxes the height of a small child, two cases of wine, and a pile of gifts that were opened to reveal an assortment of lingerie and other personal items that would have made Sarah’s formerly prudish friend blush only a few months before. As it was, one of Sarah’s gifts—lovingly selected after Abby had been a little too forthcoming on a recent girls’ night—drew forth an embarrassed squeak from the bachelorette, as she took in the straps and buckles, and a ripple of laughter from the assembled guests.
Phase two saw their party joining up with Erik’s at a jazz lounge where Abby could indulge her desire to dance without subjecting her fiancé’s sensitivities to the thunderous bass of a club. While he had occasionally joined them for a night out —armed with ear plugs and anti-anxiety meds—her friend had decided it was too cruel to make him suffer through the end of his bachelor party.
The bachelor in question now fell onto the plush sofa beside Sarah, shirt rumpled and eyes shining with joy.
‘Where’s your wife-to-be?’ Sarah asked. ‘You two have been surgically attached since we arrived.’ That wasn’t too different from their usual state, but it did amuse Sarah that this was the first time since they’d arrived that she was seeing Erik’s mouth. From the moment he’d seen his future bride, his lips had walked a near continuous path between her lips, her neck, her shoulders. She sometimes wondered if they truly forgot they were in public.
‘Bathroom,’ Erik said, before the soft tilt of his lips expanded into a wide smile. ‘Wife,’ he murmured, voice only just audible over the soft jazz playing around them. One hand scrubbed over his face. ‘Fuck, that feels good to say. This time next week, she’s going to be my wife .’
‘Have you two found a place to live yet?’ They’d discussed it after the wedding date was set. Sarah had enough commissions scheduled in the coming months to safely afford the full rent on their flat, and when their lease was up at the end of December, she’d find somewhere smaller.
Erik took a long sip of his drink and shook his head. ‘It doesn’t feel right to saddle you with the last four months of the lease.’
‘I promise, the extra rent will be less painful than living with you two as newlyweds,’ Sarah said dryly, and immediately regretted it. If the interview went well, in little over a week, she might be having this conversation again, and it would be a million times easier if they were choosing to stay in the flat.
Her heart turned as she considered the changes coming in the following months. She and Abby had been little more than kids when they’d met, eighteen and fresh-faced. Now her friend was getting married, and Sarah suspected kids of Abby’s own weren’t far on the horizon. A lifetime had passed since that first day in their uni halls, and no time at all.
‘Erik?’
He turned back to her, raking a hand through his perpetually messy hair. A few new strands popped up in its wake.
‘How did you know? With Abby?’
It took him a second to parse her meaning. Then that smile came back, that wide, beaming grin she’d never seen him wear when talking about anything else. ‘You know I can’t answer that.’
Because they’d fallen in love slowly, over the course of a childhood, too subtly to realise what was happening and too young to understand. By the time each of them had faced their feelings, they were too far gone to pinpoint the moment they’d begun.
Sarah sighed. Nodded. Then asked, ‘Okay, well, how do you know now ? You wake up in the morning—what in you tells you you love her?’
Curiosity filled Erik’s face. Curiosity, and a glint of something she’d seen that night Alex had called her Princess in front of him. A glint of something that should have made her panic more than it did. When Abby wasn’t around to absorb all his attention, he really was uncomfortably perceptive. ‘What’s this about?’
‘Humour me.’
Erik leaned back, stretching his long legs in front of him. ‘I’m assuming you want something a little more concrete than I just know .’ Sarah waited, and that smile came back, brilliant, still, but softer now. ‘I know because she’s the first person I think of in any situation. If something bad happens, she’s where I’ll find comfort. If something good happens, I want to share it with her. If someone tells a joke or shows me a stupid picture, I think about if she’d laugh at it. I know because I’ve spent my whole life struggling to fall asleep, but if she’s there, it’s safe and easy. And if she’s not, even unconscious, my body doesn’t feel right when it’s not close to hers. I know because even though nothing calms me like she does, I never feel more alive than when she’s by my side. Because even when things are hard, they’re a little easier knowing I’ll face them with her. She’s my peace and my strength, and I don’t want a single moment where she’s not by my side.’ He looked at her, so, so in love. ‘Does that help?’
She thought about Thursday morning, when she’d considered texting Alex the second her painting was finished, wanting to share it with him. How easy it had been to turn to him after Gregg had been…well, Gregg, knowing he was a safe place to land. How she’d expected to find his closeness suffocating when he’d slung an arm over her, but had instead found sleeping with him deeply soothing. How she’d thought sex with him was the most enjoyable way she’d ever found to pass her time, until it was exceeded by spending time with him outside of bed.
While she mused, her eyes fell on the man consuming her thoughts, where he stood at the bar, tattoos spilling out of his rolled sleeves and smile wide as he chatted to one of Erik’s friends. Wide, yes, but… off . Uncomfortable in its symmetry and not quite reaching the eyes she now regularly dreamed of. She considered how only a few weeks before, she would have believed that smile. Would have thought he was having the time of his life. Now she could see it for the performance it was. And she found herself wishing for half a glimpse of the real thing.
Fuck.
‘If you haven’t written your speech yet, that’s a pretty good start,’ she said, voice tight.
It was clear she was fooling no one when her eyes came back to Erik’s, and she found that curiosity softening into understanding. ‘Sarah, I know it’s none of my business, but—’
‘Then don’t ask.’ Her voice was free of any bite, gentler than her words suggested.
He stared at her for a few more seconds, then nodded and stood. ‘I know I’m not Abby,’ he said slowly, ‘but I’d like to think we’re friends. If you ever want to talk, I know a thing or two about pining.’ He touched her shoulder gently, then made his way across the room, something pulling him towards his fiancée seconds before she reappeared.
By the time they were dancing again, close and largely inappropriate, his seat had been taken by Zoe.
‘Oh shit,’ she said. ‘I know that face. Spill.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ But Sarah turned to hide her face all the same, knowing her friend likely could see the longing and devastation written there.
Zoe tried again. ‘How much have you not told me?’
Sarah stayed quiet, arms folded.
‘Hun,’ Zoe said quietly. ‘What happened?’
After another minute of silence, Sarah turned and let it all pour out. The way Alex’s facade had slowly begun to slip around her, revealing his true self, bit by beautiful bit. How she’d drowned herself in every little piece of him he’d offered, offering up fragments in return. The turning point the previous night, when he’d been so open with her at dinner—telling her the truth of what happened with his ex—then protective at the gallery, and not so gentle back at his place. Those little moments of softness and vulnerability he’d let her see. And then…that shower. Their moment in front of the mirror. Him taking her to bed.
‘I spent the night. I’ve never spent the night. We’ve never slept together. And it was…’
‘Good?’ Zoe offered.
‘Perfect,’ Sarah corrected. ‘Then this morning…he was cooking breakfast for me—and he’s always so put together, right?—but he was all rumpled and sweet and boyfriendy .’
‘None of this is sounding bad…’ Zoe said slowly.
‘He wasn’t supposed to be boyfriendy!’ Sarah whined, reining her volume in just enough that her voice wouldn’t carry. ‘I wanted mindless pleasure. When I met him, he was this obnoxious jock with a hot body he was happy for me to use, but then…then he let me in. He’s— Fuck, Zo, he’s soft and kind and funny, and I—’ She faltered, her voice coming back quieter. Defeated. ‘I definitely have feelings for him.’
‘So you’re falling for someone. And this preternaturally beautiful man’—Zoe began counting on her fingers—‘is gentle with you, except when you don’t want him to be; could talk to you for hours about art, your favourite thing to talk about; is incredible in bed; cooks for you; loves his dog… I’m struggling to see the problem here.’
‘The problem is he’s the one man I can’t risk it not working out with. I mean, god , look at him. He could have anyone he wants.’
‘Exactly.’
Sarah couldn’t remember Zoe being this blunt. She wasn’t sure she liked it. ‘Uh, did we skip over the part where you’re supposed to be making me feel better? Is this the level of pep talk you give to your authors?’
Zoe rolled her eyes. ‘He could have anyone he wants. And for the past few weeks, he’s chosen you.’
‘And what about when he stops choosing me? And one of my best friends has to choose between me and her brother-in-law?’
When Zoe spoke again, her voice was gentler. ‘Who says he’s going to stop?’
Sarah plucked at her dress. ‘Past experience.’
‘Well you’ve dated shitty people.’ Zoe lifted an arm, clearly exasperated. ‘Which by your own account, he is not.’
Sarah didn’t know how to respond to that. So she moved to a not entirely disconnected topic. ‘There’s another snag. I have a job interview next week. Assistant gallery curator. In Barcelona.’
‘Barcelona,’ Zoe said flatly. ‘You’re so afraid of your feelings, you want to run away to Spain ? And didn’t you quit your job like five minutes ago so you’d be able to paint full time?’
‘I applied for it ages ago. Before painting full time was a possibility. I don’t know if their admin is that bad, or if the first person they hired left, or— At any rate, they want to interview me. And it’s great that I can make a living painting, but the pet portraits don’t exactly set my soul on fire. You know I have a commission for a goldfish next week? I wish I was joking.
‘This would get me into the art world. I’d meet dealers and collectors. I— I know I’m good. I just can’t get my work in front of the people who matter. This gives me access. And there are other perks!’ Sarah attempted to inject more enthusiasm into her voice. ‘I’ve never left the UK. They’re looking for someone who’s happy to travel. I’d get to explore Europe a bit. I don’t know. Maybe moving to Barcelona could be really good for—’
She was so deep in her monologue—so deep in trying to convince herself this could be a good thing—that she barely noticed Zoe’s widened eyes darting over her shoulder. Didn’t register her panicked hiss of Sarah until a voice behind her said, ‘You’re moving ?’