I catch the smile on my face in the mirror, along with the flush on my cheeks and the absolute bird’s nest that is my hair right now.
ME:
Interesting…
PRESLEY:
Details, please. And don’t fucking leave me hanging.
I chuckle as I bring up Aurora’s contact details and hit dial.
“Morning, Mama.”
“Hey, Superstar. How was your night?”
“It was good. Callie and I watched old musicals, and I tried teaching her how to crochet. We’re just about to leave, going for breakfast at Sweet Escape, and then to an arts and craft market.”
“That sounds like fun!” I say, as I moisturise my face, then apply some mascara.
“Yeah, Callie is really cool and funny.”
“Just doing my aunty duties.” I hear a voice call in the background, making Aurora laugh.
“Yeah, she says she’s my aunty now.”
“Why does she say that?” I ask, gathering my messy hair up in a bun, leaving a few wavy strands around my face. My daughter ignores my question completely, asking instead how my night was.
“It’s really pretty here. I’ll take some photos of the farm before we leave.”
“Westley sent us some from last night. I loved that one of you dancing.”
My eyebrows pinch as I finish applying some lip balm, then head back to the bedroom. “Of West and I dancing?”
“No, it was just one of you.”
I try to think back to last night, and when West might have taken a photo of me, but I can’t remember anything. “You’ll have to show me when I get home. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Okay. No rush. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I hang up, sliding my feet into my shoes as I read a new message from Presley.
PRESLEY:
Was his dick so huge it scrambled your brains? Cos I’m quite sure you used to be able to read and I believe I said DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING.
I laugh and send her three eggplant emojis before heading out the door to find where breakfast is being served. I go back in the direction of where the reception was last night, following the cobblestone paths that lead to the big open garden.
The white linen tablecloths have been replaced with mason jars full of freshly picked wildflowers, and the pop-up bar is now a buffet line of breakfast food, with another station of chefs making food to order. I spot Westley in line, holding a plate of food as he chats to Phil, so I walk straight over to him.
“Morning.” I smile at both the guys.
“Good morning. Sleep well?” Phil asks, and all I can do is nod. I wonder if West told him anything. The smile on his face looks like he may have a tiny inkling of just how well we slept.
“There’s a mocha on our table for you,” Westley says, as he brings a hand around my lower back, tipping his chin to a table where Rachel is sitting, wearing sunglasses and regret.
“You got me a mocha?”
He nods, and my heart starts flipping and jumping like a cheerleader. I’m not used to being the one who’s looked after. I lean into him, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek. When he kisses the top of my head, I think this, right here, is the mostdanger I’ve been in. If I ever have to leave his arms, there’ll be no coming back from it.
