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Which she could not. Daisy just grinned, like she’d won the game.
Because now Alfie was very inadvisably furious.
“I never said that,” he growled out from between gritted teeth.
Even though really, there was no reason he shouldn’t have.
It was a perfectly normal thing to say about your girlfriend. Or even a perfectly normal thing to say if you were propping up a phony one. So what he was doing here was anybody’s guess. Heck, even he didn’t seem to know.
He just looked hot and uncomfortable now.
But thankfully Daisy didn’t seem to register it as fake.
She seemed to register it as emotionally stunted. “Don’t let him get away with that, he adores you,” she said. Then just as Mabel was busy blushing and floundering and trying not to look like this was completely throwing her, too, she said this: “Now, to the matter of outfits. I brought several options, all of them of course exquisite, complete with shoes and underwear—which is going to look spectacular on everything you have, I might add, you can thank me later with some flowers, Alfie.”
And oh god knew what was going to happen at that point.
She could practically feel Alfie vibrating next to her.
Like he was trying to stop himself from saying anything silly.
Then Daisy held up something flimsy, swathed in tissue, and said:
“I bet he’s already picturing your boobs in this.”
And there was just nothing to be done.
It was over, it was all over.
“Shut up, Daisy, I am not,” Alfie snapped out.
Helplessly, Mabel thought. Like someone being drowned by their own feelings and an incredibly bizarre and complicated situation. And now Daisy was looking at them curiously.
So she had to do it.
She had to step in.
With probably the worst confession in the world.
“He hasn’t seen me naked yet,” she said.
As if that were ever going to be a real and possible thing.
He was a footballer. He practically fucked people for a living.
Though it helped that Alfie immediately seized on what she’d said.
“Right. Exactly. No nakedness as of this moment,” he said.
And then it was just a matter of driving it home.
“We’re taking it slow. Really slow. Almost glacial, in fact.”
“What she said. Glacial,” Alfie agreed. “Like an ice age, in our pants.”
“Even though we definitely want to.”
“Christ, do I fucking ever. Just want to roast her right now.”
