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Ella and Emily appear through the kitchen door, Ella running up to Liam and planting a kiss on his head. A shaggy white dog follows and Emily bends down to unclip the dog’s lead, brown hair falling across her face.
“Hey, Bryn. How are you?” she asks.
“Dating an heiress, apparently.”
Emily smiles. “I read about that. Are you?”
“Seriously?”
“You're a rock star, Bryn. It's expected,” she teases.
“I'm not interested in Mia,” I snap.
“Well, you know the answer,” says Liam and stands. “Get her to leave and find another chick. Or find another chick anyway, so Mia gets the message. I'm sure that won't be too hard. Be right back.”
“Fancy being my fake girlfriend?” I ask Emily, and I'm half-serious.
Tall, slender, with long, long legs, Emily’s one of those girls who attract men without trying. Pretty girls can enhance themselves with the right image and attitude, but will always be outshone by naturally beautiful girls who don’t realise they are—like Emily. Unfortunately, she’s in her late teens like Mia and a great kid, but not on my radar. Too young, for a start.
“Sorry, Bryn, you're not my type.” I open my mouth to retort but she's biting her lip in barely disguised amusement.
“Oh, yeah, I hear you prefer actors.”
Her face loses the amusement. “From who?”
I was teasing but now I'm intrigued. “Nobody. But I think you have a secret.”
“I do not!” An increasingly flustered Emily takes her magazine from the table, a hint of pink on her pale cheeks.
“Is there one you like? I can introduce you if you want.” I point at the magazine. “Cas whatshisname. He's popular. You met him?”
“No! I'm not interested in famous people and I doubt they'd be interested in me.”
Methinks the lady doth protest too much. Has Emily hooked up with an actor? As nanny of a Blue Phoenix member, Emily’s in the right job if she’s looking to hook up with somebody famous. Although I’d never pin the sweet, politely-spoken girl as somebody to get into the messed-up world of celebrity.
I shrug. “Fair enough.”
A look crosses Emily's face as if I said something to hurt her. I give her one of my grins and she scurries off almost knocking into Liam on the way by.
“Beer?” The question is a formality as two bottles appear on the table in front of me. “So, what's up?”
“What do you mean?”
“Everything okay?” Liam opens both bottles and discards the metal tops.
“Yeah, why?”
“Who're you bringing to the wedding? Mia?”
“Fuck, no!” I pause and drink. “Has Cerys any decent looking friends?
Liam purses his lips in amusement. “Best man and the bridesmaid?”
“Anybody would do right now,” I say gruffly.
“Whoa. That's not like you. Mr. Secretive Nice Guy.”
“Maybe I’m pissed off with being the nice guy; it doesn't work.”
“Work at what?”
“Being happy. Forget it.”
The smell of roast dinner fills the kitchen, reminding me of family Sundays. As I sit in the warmth of Liam's kitchen, my heart aches again. I chased this dream too, but I was looking in the wrong fucking place. Why the hell can't I accept what happened and get Hannah out of my head?
