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“If you can attempt to be the kind of man she deserves, then I might get behind you both, because I want to see her fucking smile again, and something tells me that you’re the answer to making that happen.”
“If I can figure out a way to make her talk to me, let alone how to forgive me, I’ll do everything I can to make it happen. I fucking swear.”
“Good. Now get the others down here because I might just change my mind if I have to spend too much time being reminded of what you did.”
“S-sure, yeah. Okay.”
“And you can get your own fucking beer. I’m not your slave.”
“There’s still one huge fucking problem,” I confess, making him pause halfway toward the sofa. “Okay, so I’ve got a lot of problems right now. But this one is an issue.”
“Shoot.”
“I need to get out of this marriage bullshit with Abigail because…” I swallow nervously. “The only girl I want to be tied to is Olivia. And not because we have to be.”
“Fuck my life.” He balks. “You telling me you want to be my brother-in-law one day, Whitfield?”
“Hey, it could be worse.”
“How?”
“It could be Theo.”
“Fuck you, man. I heard that,” Theo scoffs from upstairs, cluing us in to the fact that they’re listening to this whole conversation.
“You’re a whore and you know it.”
“Meh, boys have gotta have fun, right?” he asks, jogging down the stairs to join us. “Besides, there’s too much pussy in the ocean to settle down anytime soon.”
“Just you wait, Ashworth.” I snort. “One day, a girl will come along and knock you clean off your arse.”
“Nah, never going to happen. You think I want to go to uni tied down to some chick who only puts out twice a week.”
“Thank fuck I only have one sister,” Oak mutters, grabbing the Xbox controller and falling down on the sofa.
“We good, yeah?” Elliot asks, looking between the two of us.
“For now,” Oak agrees. “Reese still has a massive fucking hole to dig himself out of, though.”
It might be Friday night, but none of the guys make any attempt to attend any parties or even bring one to us.
We spend the night like we used to, shooting the shit, drinking, battling on the Xbox, and ignoring the elephant in the room which is what the fuck we’re going to do about Darcie fucking Porter.
That shit can wait until the morning. None of us need our night ruined with thoughts of that bitch.
It’s just a shame that it’s the first thing we’re faced with when we’re all woken up by the pounding on the front door by three determined-looking girls.
23
OLIVIA
Elliot greets us, his brow arching up in that arrogant way of his.
“This is a surprise,” he drawls, his eyes running over each of us but lingering a little longer on Abigail.
I half-expect her to shrink under his icy cold gaze, but she stands firm, staring right back.
Interesting.
