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Willow: You don’t have to go into detail. Just fucking tell us why he’s monopolising your personal space and why he keeps kissing your hair! WEIRDO
S!
Dorian: Traffic is moving. Be there in 10! We can talk. Dx
I did not want to have a proper out loud conversation with them about this today. I knew exactly what would happen; Willow would lose her marbles and start screeching her excitement over our kiss. I mean, I was very close to doing it myself, but…
Willow: Do your cheeks hurt yet?
I glanced up to give her a questioning look.
Me: Nope.
Willow: So? Come on! Mum is looking at us funny.
Me: He kissed me.
Me: No.
Me: Correction- I kissed him…
I looked up at the sound of her gurgling choke on her wine. Her eyes on her phone as she put her glass down and wiped her chin.
Willow: … AAAAAAAAAAND?
Me: That’s it.
Me: I swear.
Willow: Must’ve been some kiss.
Me: It was.
I could feel my heart pounding again at just the thought of it. Even my lips felt like they were swollen and pulsing again from the way he had nipped, licked and bitten into them.
Dorian: What happened to waiting for me?
Dorian: Open the door.
Willow: Use your keys.
Dorian: My hands are full!
Willow: Fine.
“She’s still fucking texting though.” She whined before she downed the little that was left of her wine and stropped towards the front door.
“So, which one of you is going to tell me what’s going on?” Susan asked, interrupting the conversation she was having with Jamie about Jenna’s unexpected pregnancy and how she anticipated Molly would feel about it.
Susan had been a child psychologist for over thirty-five years before she retired just over seven years ago. She was forward and impossible to hide anything from. She could pick your body language apart and dissect the tone of your voice to the point that she may as well read your mind.
Her mousy brown hair was gathered up into a thick and full high ponytail streaked with countless strands of grey, silver and white, making her hair look even lighter. Her heart shaped face framed by a full fringe. She was unquestionably stunning for a woman her age. Sweet and innocent looking with her full lips that were bracketed by deep rooted smile lines. Where both Dorian and Willow had inherited her sophisticated English country looks, Jamie had very much taken after his dad with his striking blue eyes and dark hair.
“Mum…” Jamie whined as he pulled me closer, twisting the barstool so that I was facing him.
His arm wound tightly around my waist bringing my front flush to his side. My bum barely staying perched on the edge of the seat.
“Don’t mum me, Jamie Frederick Anson, if you two wanted to keep whatever this is a secret,” she waved her hands in our general direction, “You shouldn’t have flaunted it in front of me or flappy lips over there!” She pointed at Willow who was walking in with two boxes adorned with her favourite patisserie’s logo.
