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She’s in love with Ant, and he’s in love with her, and there’s no way it’ll ever be more than platonic. I’ll likely be watching her walk up the aisle to my best friend in a few months’ time, and I’ll be happy for them, genuinely.
If only she hadn’t said the words.
If I wasn’t with Ant, I’d happily marry you myself.
The memory of her saying them gives me tingles as I take drags on my cigarette, but it shouldn’t. Cass was only joking. Being nice. She didn’t mean it.
But what if she did..?
What if I’d have met her first..?
What if I’d been the guy at the bar in Hanley Hall..?
I curse myself as I stub my cigarette out and head back in. I need to shove the sensations to the realms of don’t be so fucking ridiculous, and I tell myself so as I climb the stairs.
I shower and wash and climb under the covers ready for bed, but I toss and turn as my mind spins, unable to shake off that tingle.
What if I’d been the guy at the bar in Hanley Hall..?
I wasn’t the guy at Hanley Hall. Ant was. Cass is in love with Ant, and Ant is in love with Cass, and that’s how it’s always going to be.
Still, I toss and turn. Until I realise I have to do something about it.
I need to put out the fire, and I know what will do it. I switch on the bedside lamp, go to my wardrobe and grab the framed picture from the very top shelf.
Here it comes. I’m waiting for it – the slam of fuck, I miss her that always comes as I stare at the picture of Jo and me at the park, with me in my prince outfit. The one we used to have hanging up proudly on our living room wall.
It normally knocks me so hard that it takes everything else from my mind, missing her so bad it hurts…
Only tonight it doesn’t.
Tonight I don’t have to hold back tears as the stab of loss jabs me like a savage poker. Tonight I don’t get the urge to grab my pillow and hold it tight, wishing it was Jo there beside me, because it feels different… the poker in my ribs doesn’t hit me this time.
My stomach lurches again, but it’s not about Jo. It’s about the woman across the landing. My friend Cass who’s in love with Anthony Bradstone, my best friend, and housemate, and my damn boss on top.
Fuck.
Cass
Lee’s face pops into my head like a filthy stench on my way to work. How the hell can I help clients prepare for their upcoming weddings, when I’ve been a slut who’s fucked one of them over?
Luckily, Claire doesn’t have an appointment in the office for another few weeks, and Ant isn’t due back from Berlin until tomorrow, so I have a bit of a window before I have to step up on the facing morality front.
Time to make the most of it. Thank God I have Gerwyn around at the moment to help me with that. His presence at home has been a ray of light in a shit storm. Spending such fun time with him has been a lifesaver.
At lunchtime I head across the street to Briar’s bakery and pick out my favourite caramel cream cupcakes, hoping he likes them as much as I do. I’d love another sofa and chat night while we munch and laugh together.
The afternoon rushes by and I’m relieved the week is done when I drop into my car with the box of cakes in the seat beside me. My running commentary of thoughts on how I fucked my client’s fiancé are still lurking on the sidelines, but I shove them aside and focus on imagining Gerwyn’s expression as he takes his first bite of caramel cream.
I plan on presenting the cupcakes with a ta da, but there’s no sign of him when I get inside. I figure he’ll have heard the car arrive and head downstairs to say hello as soon as he gets the chance, but time rolls on without him showing his face.
The evening is well underway when I opt to go find him.
I press my ear up close to the office door but hear nothing going on, so give a little knuckle tap, surprisingly nervous as I wait for him to answer.
“Hey,” he says when he opens the door. “Sorry, I’ve been busy.”
He feels weirdly distant. Almost awkward. But I guess that’s what it must be like when your head is tied up in high value business deals all day long.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you,” I apologise, feeling surprisingly awkward myself as I point to the stairs behind me. “Just wanted to say I’ll be, um, making dinner… if you want some.”
