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Cold air caressed Lydia’s abdomen as Halle made quick work of her top. Letting go of Halle’s hair, Lydia went straight for the woman’s trousers. They were frenzied, and it was perfect.
Lydia could feel the desire dripping off Halle. With every touch, every small whimper, Lydia grew in confidence. There was no time to worry, not when Halle Cartwright was taking her clothes off, clearly feeling Lydia wasn’t doing it fast enough.
Two pairs of jeans hit the floor, knickers right after them. If Lydia had the patience to slow down and gaze at Halle’s tight physique, she would, but that wasn’t an option. Both women needed this to happen now.
Lydia gave a little laugh as Halle dragged her to the kitchen floor. “Don’t worry, it’s clean,” Halle mumbled through nips and bites on Lydia’s neck. Lydia couldn’t have given a rat’s arse if it was clean. Halle could do what she wanted, where she wanted.
And then it was over. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” Fe’s screech filled the flat. Halle’s weight lifted off Lydia as they both scrambled to find their discarded clothes.
“Fe, what’re you doing here?” Halle pulled on her jeans and top. Lydia flailed about, desperately trying to clothe herself, but she was flustered and the harder she tried, the less successful her attempts were.
“What the fuck!” Fe cried again. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”
Lydia looked up from her position on the floor. Fe was staring daggers at her. “Fe, calm down.” Lydia’s plea fell on deaf ears.
“Calm down?” Okay, she shouldn’t have said that. No woman in the history of humanity ever calmed down when told to.
“Fe, go into the living room. We’ll be right in.” Halle’s calm voice did little to douse Fe’s rage.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she hissed at Lydia, who sat slack jawed. What the fuck? Was it really that big of a deal?
Feeling the sting of tears, Lydia rushed to dress. With Fe out of the way, she was able to do it rather quickly. Halle stood looking unsure of what to do next. Lydia wasn’t in the mood to have a full-blown argument with her sister. And she understood Halle felt torn. “Go, it’s fine.”
“Lydia—”
“Please. Go and calm her down. I need to go.”
Dashing past the living room, Lydia did her best to ignore Fe’s continuing shouts. Her hands shook as she dialed for a cab.
Tears fell as she waited on the pavement. Alone.
Chapter 12
There were a couple of ways Lydia dealt with stress. Batch cooking was one of them, and she’d really leaned into it over the past week. Her water bill was going to be through the roof. Pots and pans didn’t clean themselves. As was clear by the pile stacked in the sink. But that was a consequence she’d have to suffer. It was either batch cooking or binge drinking.
An entire week passed since the kitchen floor incident and not a peep from either Fe or Halle. Not one text, hence the three pots full of Spaghetti Bolognese. Her freezer was already full of chilli and beef stew. It looked like Cathy was in for a treat. And rightly so! Cathy had been the best friend Lydia could have ever asked for this week.
After breaking down in the back of the cab that night, Lydia arrived at Fe’s home only to leave again ten minutes later with a sleepy Monty tucked against her chest. It had hurt not to be able to explain to the niblings why she wouldn’t be around for a while, but that wasn’t her place. Fe could sort that out. She’d kissed them as they slept before leaving, though.
The driver was kind enough not to comment on Lydia’s tear and snot-stained face, which she thought was nice of him.
As soon as she was alone in her flat, she called Cathy. Within minutes she was there comforting and cursing out Fe. Lydia knew her sister would be upset, but she’d never, in a million years, expected her to react like that.
Hours turned to days and Lydia fell deeper into a black hole. She’d hoped Halle would have messaged or something, but there was nothing. Fe needed time to cool down. That was fine, but after a full seven days, Lydia was getting angry. Who the bloody hell did Fe think she was? Where the hell was Halle? It hadn’t been Lydia alone on that floor, naked!
So what if she and Halle had sex? What was the big fucking deal? Surely Fe should be happy that her best friend and sister liked each other. There could be worse things happening!
Channelling her frustration in a positive way led to the culinary deep dive. If Lydia couldn’t yell, she’d cook. And then cook some more until she felt better. So far, no amount of tomato-based cuisine has helped. Maybe lasagna would do the trick?
To add to her stress, tomorrow was the surgery. Thank God Cathy and Harrison would be there to hold her hand. Lydia was still nervous, despite the excitement of finally moving forward.
Cursing her lack of Tupperware, Lydia cling wrapped the pots. They’d be fine on the kitchen worktop for a little while. It was almost five in the afternoon, which only left a couple of hours to have some food before she went nil by mouth. The timing sucked, because Lydia was definitely a person who liked to eat her feelings, especially late at night.
Yes, she could have eaten some of the food she’d spent all week cooking, but she didn’t. Instead, Lydia drowned her nerves and sorrow in pizza. Monty seemed to agree with her food choice as he sat there nibbling on a morsel of crust.
By the time 9:30 p.m. rolled around, Lydia was done for the day. No amount of pizza or TV helped distract her mind. If she couldn’t think of anything nice, she wouldn’t think at all. Monty wasn’t as enthusiastic about going to bed so early, but he followed loyally anyway. The quicker tomorrow arrived, the better.
Cathy arrived at 7:30 a.m. sharp. Lydia felt sick but put on a brave face, although the sympathetic look she was receiving from Cathy said she’d done a poor job of masking her feelings.
