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Charlie needed help.
But giving it to him just might cost me my principles.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DUFFY
I managed to avoid my newly wedded husband for two full days after our wedding.
The first night, I’d phoned a friend from Cambridge who was now working at a law firm in Manhattan and suggested we grab a drink. Laura (pronouncedLou-ra) had been trying to catch up with me for a couple of years now, ever since she’d moved to the States. I always dodged her attempts. BJ had detested her ever since she was caught doing cocaine on Cambridge’s campus halfway through her law degree. After that, she quietly transferred to Durham, but she frequently visited to catch up with mates.
After five vodka and sodas, and a gossip session in which Laura brought me up to speed about all the scandals our year’s alumni were up to across the pond, I confessed that I’d married an American man for a visa, that he’d kissed me, and that I was now too mortified to return to our shared flat from fear I might hump his leg.
Laura was quite understanding, and, once she realized I couldn’t be persuaded to sleep with him (“But BJ is all the way in Nepal! And, may I add, a total knobhead who isn’t worth your loyalty”), she let me crash at her place.
Two nights I slept on her couch before Laura decided to put her (heeled) foot down.
“Listen here, missy, I love you to bits, but I also want my personal space back. It’s time you leave.” She parked a hand on her waist, standing in the middle of her living room, the Manhattan skyline her backdrop through her floor-to-ceiling window.
“Oi!” I bemoaned, burying myself deeper under the throws on her settee. “You’re supposed to be my support system.”
“Youdumped me and our friendship for a bloke namedBJ,” she reminded me, thrusting a finger my way. “You deserve no support and no system. Not to mention, I’m doing you a favor. I’m making you face the music.”
“Oh, but the music is rubbish.” I flung the throw off me and shot up. “The music is ... is ... Olivia Rodrigo–bad.”
“You didnotjust diss Olivia Rodrigo under my roof.” Laura held up her index. “The woman penned my favorite breakup song. I listen to it every time I dump a guy. Which means several times a week.” She trekked toward her kitchen, which was stark white and ... well, inexistence. It wasn’t my measly counter with a microwave and one burner. “Anyway, marriage is not disposable. You’re not Kim Kardashian, darling.”
“He hasn’t even texted me since he ran away from our wedding,” I complained, following her to the kitchen island.
“You’re both emotionally twelve.” She threw her fridge open.
“Maybe, but at least I’m chronologically closer to that age,” I said, sulking.
Laura rolled her eyes, producing two fat-free yogurts, one for her and one for me. “Old or not, you’d love to dance the horizontal tango with him.”
“What if I do sleep with my husband?” I nibbled on my lip.
“Then I would literally cheer you on. Pom-poms and all.”
“Laura.”I grabbed the yogurt from her hand and shoved a spoonful of it into my mouth. “Even if he was my type, he is not looking for a relationship.”
She sighed. “Unfortunately, you will exercise perfect self-restraint. You always do.”
“You think?” I perked.
“After he left you in that courtroom?” She scrunched her nose. “I bet as soon as you see him, you’ll pick a fight. Now, please get out of my flat. I would like to dance around naked to Olivia Rodrigo on full blast.”
It was in my Uber ride home when the final nail in my BJ coffin was driven into the wood.
The minute I slid inside, my phone flashed with an incoming video call. For a second, my heart played Twister in my chest. Was Riggs finally checking in on me?
My shoulders sagged when I saw Kieran’s name on the screen. I swiped reluctantly, like it was my brother’s fault he wasn’t my husband.
“Yes, big brother?” I rolled my eyes, humoring him. But Kieran’s face was as white as Mum’s signature boiled chicken, and it looked like he was home, even though he was supposed to be at the chippy this time of the day.
“Hey, are you alone?” He peered at me nervously, as if he could see my surroundings.
“Why? Oh, God. Shelby is not suing you for sexual harassment, is she? I told you it was a bad idea to flash h—”
