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LONDON: Bollocks.
ME: Never should have taught you that word.
LONDON: Disagree, it’s fucking fabulous.
ME: You’re not wrong. Want me to bring the shoes over tomorrow? Or get them at practice?
I shut the door behind me and returned to my spot on the sofa.
LONDON: I’ll get them after practice. That okay?
ME: There’s no practice tomorrow. It was canceled to let the kids rest. I can bring them over?
LONDON: Oh, it’s fine. I can get them on Wednesday.
ME: You sure?
LONDON: Yeah. How was your day?
Wasn’t that a loaded bloody question?
ME: Long. Yours?
LONDON: Tonight’s shower was a forty-five-minute argument. Apparently Dad didn’t make him shower every day so I am the most horrible person in the whole world.
ME: I concur. You sound awful.
LONDON: I am. God forbid my child be clean. The horror!
ME: Did he at least shower?
LONDON: We compromised on a bath. I’m tired. Gotta pick your battles.
ME: That’s true.
LONDON: Are you busy at lunch tomorrow?
What now?
ME: No.
LONDON: Do you want to come over?
ME: For lunch?
LONDON: Don’t get excited. I have an ulterior motive.
ME: If it’s to get in my pants, you can say so.
LONDON: Crap. You caught me.
ME: …
LONDON: I need a shelf putting up. I am Very Bad at DIY. My uncle is busy.
ME: I like how very bad was in capitals.
LONDON: That’s how bad I am. I can cook anything and write well but the second a screwdriver is in my hand, I panic.
ME: Probably because a screwdriver won’t help you put up a shelf.
LONDON: I’ll feed you.
ME: London, I’ll put a shelf up for you. All you have to do is ask.
LONDON: I just felt a bit weird asking after… you know.
ME: Why? I’d rather you were honest with me. If you’d kept all that inside it would just fuck things up before we even had a chance to try.
LONDON: I suppose.
ME: Like you, I’m not interested in flings. They hold no appeal to me. I want a real relationship and they involve a lot of honest communication.
LONDON: You’re right.
LONDON: Damn, be a jerk for once.
ME: Can’t.
ME: If I’m coming over, I’ll bring your shoes with me.
LONDON: Oh, good idea. I’m going to bed. Have to head to the center early to interview the team starting the swimming lessons in two weeks.
ME: Forgot about those. Sleep tight.
LONDON: You, too. Xo
I stared at my phone screen for a long minute.
Was the shelf an excuse? To spend time with me?
Fuck, I hoped so.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – LONDON
RULE FOURTEEN: ALWAYS WEAR A CUTE DRESS. YOU NEVER KNOW WHO YOU’LL RUN INTO.
Butterflies wriggled in my belly as I looked out of the window, waiting for Ollie’s black car to pull up.
Honestly, this was ridiculous.
Did he see right through my shelf ruse? Did he know it was nothing more than a ploy to get him to come over?
Ooh, I was so obvious. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Ivy. What did she know? This was ridiculous.
Oh, he knew.
He so knew this was fake.
Why was I even doing it? I still didn’t know what I wanted to do. I still had to think about Leo. I still had to think about me.
Could I take another heartbreak if he left?
Could I be in the same room as Ollie and not kiss him?
What if I said no to dating now and he decided to stay? Would he want to try then? Or would I be too late?
What if that happened and he met someone new?
Oh, no.
I didn’t think I could take that.
My feelings for Ollie were rapidly growing. I just… didn’t know what to do about anything.
Oh, bollocks.
Man, I love that word.
His car pulled up on the driveway.
Oh, crap, he was here.
Now what?
Now what did I do?
Get the shelf out of the packaging, I supposed.
Where was it even going?
I didn’t need a shelf.
What was I doing with my life?
Why hadn’t I thought about where the shelf was going?
Leo’s room. That’s it. Leo’s room. It was going in there.
Yes. Definitely.
Phew.
Okay.
Deep breaths, London.
Ollie knocked at the door, and I darted to open it far faster than I should have.
Seriously.
What was wrong with me?
“Hi.” I smiled at him, hoping I didn’t look as flustered as I felt. “Thank you for this. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. I’m not working today since we canceled practice, so it’s fine.” Ollie beamed at me as he came in and lifted up a small box. “Got my tools. I figured you don’t have a drill. Where’s it going?”
He figured right.
“Leo’s room,” I said too quickly. I coughed. “Sorry. Leo’s room. Um, I thought I’d do a Cajun chicken salad for lunch. Is that okay?”
“Sounds great. Show me where you want this shelf.”
I picked it up from the sofa and motioned for him to follow me upstairs. He already knew where Leo’s room was, obviously, but he dutifully trotted along behind me until we got there.
