Isabella
“Shut the front door,” Rhea gasped, before continuing to have a whole conversation with herself. “He did that? And you—no, don’t answer that. You’re my best friend, and I don’t like this jealous feeling burning in my chest.”
I waited. Because she wasn’t done yet. She was still processing.
She sighed.
“I thought squirting was fake. You know, for pornos. Aim, squat and fire,” she said, before pausing again.
I checked my phone screen to make sure she hadn’t hung up on me.
“I think I need to set some new New Year’s resolutions. Is there anything else you need to confess?”
“Nope, that’s it,” I said cheerfully.
“God. You sound so happy. You lucky cow.”
“If it helps, his ex sent some hate-filled texts,” I said lightly, resting my feet on the couch. “The kids are getting along. There’s this weird kind of energy between Zach and Luke, though. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Whoa. Back up. His ex? The skinny skank that stalked you?”
“Would you give up a cock that makes you gush like Trafalgar Square’s fountain?” I asked, shaking my head at her.
“True. Carry on. What was said?”
“I’ve to release the cock, and that I’m a home-wrecking bitch.”
“Hm. Pretty standard, to be fair.”
Her response loosened some of the tension in my chest. I guess this sort of stuff happened, given Rhea had five siblings and an undeclared army of aunts and uncles scattered across both sides of her family.
There wasn’t much left that could truly shock her, which is exactly why I’d saved the best for last.
“Oh, and we got engaged,” I said, glancing at the glittering rock on my finger, still not quite believing it was real.
Her scream was so loud I had to end the call. It took barely 0.4 seconds for her name to flash back across my screen.
She was swearing when I picked up, but I couldn’t stop laughing. Just when I’d made peace with a lonesome future—bam. Luke walked into my life, and everything shifted.
And somehow, impossibly, life felt vibrant again. Alive in a way I’d almost forgotten was possible.
? ? ?
I brought the laundry basket up and remembered the airer was in the box room now. I paused, setting the basket down to knock on Amber’s door. My girl studied so hard. She had her heart set on Cambridge.
“Come in.”
I stuck my head past the door and saw her sitting at her desk, the monitor glowing behind her.
“Hey.”
“Hi, Mum,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Did you come to flash your ring again?”
I chuckled and dove into her room, closing the door behind me.
“I never in a million years expected a proposal. I’ve only known him for a month,” I said, staring at the ring for what felt like the millionth time that day.
“Mum? What made you choose my dad as your first?”
I froze, wondering what had brought this on.
“Hormones,” I said, speaking before I could think better of it. “We were young and horny.”
Was she missing Clive? Was this about Luke? Mark had never been interested in Amber, and I’d spent years doing all I could to shield her from that particular absence.
Oh, no. Was she considering doing it with Nolan?
“Are you considering something with Nolan?” I asked cautiously, before immediately wishing I hadn’t.
Not my baby. Not right now. So I did the only thing I knew how—launched straight into my speech on safe sex. She’d been hearing versions of it since she was fifteen. Her face spoke volumes, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
Wait. I’d given her countless condoms over the years. For all I knew, she’d been using them as water bombs.
I reached for her hand, holding it between both of mine.
“You’re okay with me getting married, right?”
“Of course I am. I can get away with pretty much anything now that your attention won’t be on me,” she said, grinning widely.
Thank goodness.
I laughed, a little nervously, and we leaned in for a tight hug. She wouldn’t be as careless as I had been. Amber was a clever girl.
I left Amber to her studies, and the more I thought about Nolan, the harder it became to picture it happening.
I gathered the laundry and carried it into the box room where Amber had left the airer.
I was hanging things up when I found Luke’s socks tangled in with the rest. He’d been staying over more often lately, and his toothbrush now had a permanent spot in my bathroom.
Instead of putting me off, it felt nice.
Outside this house, Luke Newbury was a wealthy businessman. But to me, he was just Luke. I lifted a grey pair of his shorts, smoothing the fabric between my fingers. I’d tried them on once—quite comfortable, actually. I bit my lip.
They most definitely looked better on him.
I ached everywhere, and I still wanted more.
What was wrong with me?
I sighed and hung the shorts up.
It was a long wait until tonight.