Page 30 of The F*ck-It List

“So, you’re pissed at me for buying the shop I didn’t know you wanted?” I ask casually, stroking along the length of Darcy’s back.

“Pretty much,” August agrees, like it’s not the most ridiculous thing to admit. “Never said I was rational.”

That makes me smile, my fingers digging into the shaggy fur so I can scratch at Darcy’s belly where he’s rolled to his side between us. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

He nods solemnly. “I understand you’ve been having a rough time of it since you got here,” he says, and I swallow down some of the misery I’ve been feeling along with the shame of so publicly breaking down from the weight of it. “And I feel shitty about adding to it.” August still doesn’t look at me, but I turn to watch his profile as he fumbles though his apology. He’s handsome in a rugged, mountain man kind of way, and I’m rather enjoying his squirming discomfort at having to eat humble pie.

“Well, I’d say it’s okay, but you just got angry at me last time,” I say flatly.

“It may not have been obvious, but I’m not great at this.”

That gets him a small laugh. “You’re doing alright, I really appreciate your apology.” When he finally turns to me, face as serious as I’ve seen it, I offer him a gentle smile. He doesn’t return it, but he looks less angry at me than he did the other day. “And thank you for staying here because you were worried about me, that was really sweet.” So sweet, it makes my heart flutter.

“To be clear,” he says holding up a finger. “I said I was worried about thebuilding, not you.”

“Right,” I say, smirking.

“And Eli would be pissed if I’d walked you home and then let you hurt yourself.”

“Well, Eli’s a great guy.”

“Oh yeah, the best.” His sarcasm makes my smile bloom, and I avoid looking at him by giving Darcy more love.

Heathcliff seems to realise I’m paying more attention to the dog and gets down from August’s neck to lay on top of Darcy’s exposed belly so my ministrations land on his side instead.

“So, these two seem to have made friends,” I say, watching the two fur babies snuggle together.

August looks down at them with a raised brow and a nod of his head.

“Maybe you and I could be friends adjacent?” I ask hopefully.

He rubs his hands over his hair and puffs out a breath. “I’m not a fun friend, direct or adjacent,” he admits.

“I can bring the fun,” I say easily. “I have Uno and Backgammon.”

I swear one side of his mouth lifts, and I feel butterflies take flight in my tummy at being the one to almost make him smile.

“In the interest of becoming friend adjacent,” he says, reaching into the couch cushions. “You mind me asking about this?”

He pulls Pedro out from where he’d been smushed in the corner of the couch.

My face lights up with a genuine smile because my plushie makes me inexplicably happy. “Oh, that’s Pedro, my emotional support peen.”

“Of course it is,” he says, putting Pedro back on the sofa. “I don’t know why I asked.”

I stand and notice August’s eyes rake over my pyjamas, lingering only a second on my breasts which I’m sure are pointing right at him. Clearing my throat, I pull my cardigan tightly around my middle. “Would you like some eggs?”

He looks up at me almost nervous, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before he says, “Actually, I was going to ask if you’d like to come to Sunday lunch at my parent’s house.”

ten

No. 37: Be more social

August

I’m pretty sure I’ve made a mistake when Bea and I get to my parents’ front door. I left Bea’s place to shower and change, take Darcy for a walk, and make the stuffing for today’s roast dinner, then I collected her on my way through. But showing up together like this makes it looks like I’mbringingher to family dinner. Like a date. It’s not a date. I may not be Casanova, but I’d know not to bring a woman to my parents’ house on a first date. But I feel awkward and hot even though I’m just in a t-shirt over my jeans. That tracks for a date.

Bea looks pretty in a summer dress, pale pink with yellow flowers all over it, tiny little straps, fitted like a dream around her tits and over her waist but loose and flowing from her hips to her knees. Half of her pink hair is knotted high on top of her head and the lower halfflows down past her shoulders in waves. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers I can only assume is from the florist in the village as the mini supermarket wouldn’t have anything as nice.