I can’t stop replaying our last conversation.
Yes, I was a complete wanker, and usually I’d never fling anything like that at her. But her strangely cold dismissal of the reason why I’d forgotten about her art exhibition on that rotten Boxing Day touched a raw nerve.
Reminded me of Jenna’s reaction when our plans changed after my dad died.
Mac isn’t anything like Jenna.
I was a wreck the year after leaving Uni. Coping with Dad’s sudden death, the responsibility of taking over the company, and getting over my ex. And who stuck by me through all the forgettable one-night stands and drunken nights where I tried to find oblivion?
Mac.
She was always there and didn’t care if I was recovering from a hangover or being an unsociable git. When I needed her the most, she never let me down.
I’ve known her forever, and she can be as sarcastic and cutting as anyone. But she’s not mean, and if I hadn’t been so gutted with the way things were falling apart Saturday night, I would’ve guessed.
She had no idea I was referring to my mum’s stroke when I told her I forgot. All she heard was I didn’t think she was special enough to remember something so important to her.
No wonder she told me to fuck off.
I know her studies come first. But I can’t leave things like this between us. I’ll go see her at Oxford and try to fix our friendship. Tell her if she’s willing to give me another chance, I’ll wait for her until she graduates if it means we can be together.
Looks like I’ll be taking Lucas’s advice, after all.
Grovel.
…
Mackenzie
Thank God for the weekend.
And not just because tomorrow is my birthday and I’m going clubbing with Brooklyn and some of our friends to celebrate.
It’s because I’ve spent the last few days disentangling myself from Uni.
The official side wasn’t a hassle. It was mainly explaining to Mum’s friends from her Uni days why I’m going in a different direction. Not that they condemned me. I was so stupid to ever think they would. But I just felt I owed it to them, for all the help and support they’ve given me over the years.
Brooklyn and I sit cross-legged on my bed, the way we used to when we were teens. It’s the first time we’ve got together all week.
“Have you made a shortlist of universities?”
That’s another thing I never thought would happen. My talk with Dad was a real eye-opener in more ways than one. When I suggested looking at local colleges, he told me to check the universities. It turns out the bursary from Mum’s work will cover a wide range of university degrees, not just the sciences.
How did I never know that?
“I’m doing that next week.” And then I sigh because who am I trying to kid? “One of my top three choices is in Wales. Awkward, much?”
“Hmm.” Obviously, she knows all about the breakup with Will. We had a major discussion on the phone about it on Sunday night. And although I haven’t told her about his mum’s stroke, because that’s confidential, I did share about his stake in Oakland after my weekend away. “That shouldn’t be a reason for you to cross it off your list.”
Even if I’m accepted by Aberystwyth, it’s not like the university is right next door to Oakland. The chances of us bumping into each other there are about the same as they are here.
Zero to none.
I pick at the frayed cuff of my vintage sweater. I’ve been so busy this week I haven’t had much time to obsess over Will.
Liar.
I might’ve been able to push him to the back of my mind during the day, but night’s a different matter. And not just because I miss having his ripped body next to me in bed. Or being able to snuggle in his arms every evening. Or the crazy conversation we’d have while eating or watching TV or…
Fuck it. I miss every bloody thing about him. Even the annoying things.
Did he have any annoying habits? I can’t think of any right now. I let out a defeated groan, and Brooklyn pats my hand.
“You fell hard, didn’t you, babe?”
There’s no point denying it any longer. “I never got over him the first time.”
“I’ve been thinking about everything you told me about what happened at the party. And honestly, I don’t get it. I mean okay, so it was kind of rude of him to say that about your degree, but the point is he was right, wasn’t he?”
My best friend isn’t supposed to be taking Will’s side, except I can’t disagree with her. “Suppose,” I mutter.
“And then he was really nice about your art. Like, I don’t know, he really believes in you.”
I can’t deny it. It was a nice thing he said. “You’re really not helping.”
Brooklyn ignores me. “So how did you go from that to him bringing your mum into it? It doesn’t make sense. Like he went off on a tangent or something.”
That’s because I left out the bit where I mortified myself by dragging up the past to him. I might as well tell her. It seems stupid not to, now. “That’s because we were supposed to meet up the day after we first slept together. And he stood me up. I know it’s dumb to hold a grudge for so long, but…” I slump forward, defeated. It is stupid and immature of me, but the way he callously shrugged off the fact he’d forgotten about it hurt. A lot.
“Oh.” Brooklyn sounds faintly pissed off now. Great going, Mac. “You’ve never told me that.” She sniffs, and there’s an uncomfortable silence that I don’t know how to break. Then she turns to me. “Still doesn’t make sense. What’s standing you up got to do with your mum?”
“Nothing.” Seriously, why can’t she just let it go? It’s not like it’s important. He forgot about our date. End of story. “Apparently shit happened.”
Repeating those words that he basically spat in my face makes my chest ache. He couldn’t even be nice about it—which actually doesn’t make sense, now I think about it.
“Shit happened on Boxing Day? What, did he go out and get plastered?” There’s an edge of contempt in her voice now, which should soothe my wounded feelings, but something’s buzzing around the fringes of my brain. Something I can’t quite…
“Fuck me. Boxing Day.” Icy horror ripples over my arms as it all falls into place. His mum’s stroke happened on Boxing Day. I just never connected which Boxing Day he was talking about.
“Huh?”
I can’t betray Will’s confidence, but I have to tell her something.
“He told me the other week there was a problem with his mum. I just didn’t realize…oh shit.”
He must’ve thought I was the most entitled bitch ever. Throwing a tantrum because he didn’t show up, when he’d been out of his mind after finding his mum unconscious.
For the first time in ages, I think back to the next time we met. It was at one of Lucas’s friend’s house, for a New Year’s Eve party. I’d avoided him all night, but we eventually bumped into each other just before the stroke of midnight.
He’d looked exhausted and wasn’t his usual gregarious self. He’d called and texted me a couple of times during the week, and I hadn’t replied because he hadn’t apologized. And when he didn’t even mention why he hadn’t turned up that day, but instead asked me if I regretted what had happened between us, the word vomit just spewed forth in a torrent.
Mac, you twat.
When he’d really needed me, I was as supportive as his cold-hearted ex. And even though I didn’t know the reason why he hadn’t been able to make our date, that doesn’t make me feel any better about the way I behaved.
The time we spent together this month was only temporary, but it was lovely. It’s not his fault my crappy plan to get him out of my system failed so spectacularly.
I want us to stay friends. Even if it breaks the rest of my heart into a thousand pieces.
My phone rings, and I stare at the ID as disbelief washes through me. Brooklyn leans against my arm so she can see. “Wow. How freaky is that? It’s li
ke he knows you were talking about him.”
Any other time, I’d scoff because that’s way too woo-woo for me. Except a spooky prickle scuttles over my head and along the back of my neck.
It is weird. Part of me doesn’t even want to answer.
Just do it. “Hey.”
“Hey, Mac.”
God, I’ve missed the sound of his voice.
“Listen,” he says, “I’m outside right now. I need to speak to you. Can I meet you somewhere?”
He’s outside? I’m off the bed and at my window before he’s even finished speaking. Brooklyn’s right next to me, even though she didn’t hear his side of the conversation.
It’s not dark yet, as it’s only just gone six, and his car isn’t on the drive. A little pang shoots through me. Did he park along the road so my dad wouldn’t see him?
“I’ll be right there. Don’t move.”
I run down the stairs and am at the end of the drive in record time.
Still can’t see his car. Where the hell is he?
“Where did you park? Why don’t just come up onto the drive? Dad’s out,” I add, in case that’s the deciding factor.
There’s a long silence. “You’re at home?”
A terrible suspicion slithers through me. “Yes.”
“Right. I’m in Oxford.”
Oh my God. He drove all the way to Oxford to see me. There’s the most stupid smile on my face, but I don’t care because he can’t see it. “I dropped out. It’s been quite the week.”
“Huh.” He sounds shocked. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, it’s all good.” Even better now you called me. “So, uh, why did you want to see me?”
“I boxed up the stuff you left at my flat. Thought you’d want it back.”
I fall back to earth so damn fast my lungs hurt. It wasn’t me he wanted to see. He just wanted to offload my crap.
That doesn’t make any sense, and you know it. If that were true, he would’ve dumped it here, especially if he thought I was in Oxford.
There’s only one reason why he drove all that way.
Don’t fuck this up, Mac.
“Okay, then.” Do I sound breezy? There are so many butterflies in my chest right now I can hardly even breathe. “Why don’t you come round Sunday afternoon?” Say it. “Or, uh, I could pop round to your flat instead. Save you a journey.”
“Right.”
I can’t tell whether he thinks that’s a great idea or the worst one ever. Before I lose my nerve, the words tumble out. “See you Sunday, then?”
“Okay.”
I hang up and exhale a relieved breath. Two more days and we can try and sort this mess out. I can’t wait to see him again. And then I have one of those total duh brain moments.
Why didn’t I say I’d see him tomorrow?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Will
I should’ve waited until Sunday before driving to Mac’s. That’s what she wanted.
Except I need to see her tonight.
I glance at the box on the passenger seat. As strategies go, I’m chuffed I came up with this one. Returning her things gives me the perfect excuse to see her again.
She only told you to bugger off because you were such a prat.
I hope to God I’m right about that. I get out of the car and hesitate. Do I take the box with me right now, or go with the birthday gift first?
Since her gift is in my pocket, and therefore invisible, I go with the box. Even though I’m hoping by the time I leave I can take it back with me, still filled with her stuff.
Yeah, keep hoping. You’ve gotta grovel first.
Mac opens the door, and I lose the power of speech. She’s wearing cute unicorn PJs, and there’s no reason why I should find them sexy as hell since they cover her from neck to ankles.
Feels way longer than six days since I last saw her.
“Hi.” There’s no mistaking her surprise, but she doesn’t sound pissed that I turned up two days early. Her gaze slides to the box I’m propping up against the wall. “Come in.”
I dump the box on the floor in the hall as she shuts the door.
Although I’ve had days to think about it, I’m no closer to knowing what to say to her. But since she dropped a bombshell on me earlier, I’ll start with that.
“You dropped out of Uni, then?”
She shrugs like she’s embarrassed. “I should never have gone for that degree in the first place. I guess you were right. I need to follow my dreams and stop hiding behind the promise I made to my mum.”
Fuck, I don’t want to think about the shitty things I said to her that night. “I was out of order, Mac. I didn’t mean that stuff I said.”
Her smile is sad. “Yes, you did. It’s okay. Honestly, you didn’t say anything I hadn’t already thought about.”
Somehow, that makes me feel worse than ever. “I was still a fuckwit.”
“Okay, then.” She sounds as though she’s trying not to laugh. Maybe I’m doing something right, after all. “I won’t disagree with that.”
“What are your plans?”
“Oh. Um, well I have all the qualifications I need to go for a Fine Arts degree. It’s just deciding which universities to approach. I’ve got a busy year ahead.”
“Putting your portfolio together?”
“Yes. That’s going to take a lot of work. And I need to set up an art space and stock up on supplies.”
A silence falls between us, almost as though we’re strangers who have just exchanged a few pleasantries instead of best friends who managed to screw things up. Again.
Might as well just jump in the deep end and hope for the best. “I need to talk to you about Saturday night.”
My words dry up as Brooklyn strolls into the hall from the kitchen. Shit. I’m guessing she knows everything, but I don’t want to drop Mac in it if she still wants to keep it all a big secret.
I don’t want a bloody audience when I try and make things right, either.
“Hey, Will. Long time, whatever.” Brooklyn’s grin tells me she knows everything, all right.
“It’s been a while,” I agree.
“About Saturday,” Mac says. I brace myself for a well-deserved, if not literal, knee to the nuts. “I didn’t realize you were talking about your mum. I’m really sorry about that.”
Talk about unexpected. It makes me feel worse than ever about the things I said to her that night. “You don’t need to apologize.” Because that’s my line.
“I really do. I wasn’t thinking straight about…things.”
I know what she’s talking about, but she’s making it sound all cloak and dagger. I glance at Brooklyn. Maybe she doesn’t know everything, after all.
“It’s okay.” Mac sighs. “Brook knows about us.”
But not about my mother. There’s an odd pain in my chest that she kept my confidence from her best friend. And although I wish Brooklyn was anywhere but here, I’m just going to have to swallow my pride and say the damn words.
“I was a dick that night. I’m sorry.”
She smiles, but it looks a little strained. I’ve no clue what to say next.
“Hmm,” Brooklyn says. “Shall I get the popcorn?”
Mac ignores her. “Do you want a coffee? We were about to make some tea. Come into the kitchen.”
We follow her into the kitchen, where she flaps her hand at us to sit at the breakfast bar while she fills the percolator and kettle. Brooklyn nudges my arm.
“Well,” she says. “You’re a dark horse, aren’t you? Setting up a side business in Wales.”
Mac comes over and leans against the breakfast bar next to Brooklyn. “It’s not a side business.”
Which reminds me. She hasn’t heard my news yet. “I’m moving to Wales for good in a couple of months. You were right, too.” I give a faint smile. “I put my flat on the market yesterday.”
“Wow.” She looks amazed. “That’s brilliant. I’m so pleased you’re going for it. How did your mum ta
ke it?”
“We’ve been on the phone every night this week. She’s been great. And guess what? Jeremy bloody Jones supports me one hundred percent.”
“Oh my God.” She leans across Brooklyn. “He’s not after your place on the board, is he?”
“You’re cynical.” I grin at her. “That’s the first thing I thought, as well.”
“I have no idea who this Jeremy bloody Jones is.” Brooklyn sounds pissed off, so I give her a quick explanation while Mac makes our drinks.
“And no,” I say as she brings our cups over. “He doesn’t want anything to do with the company. I owe him a very small one for his support.”
“Are you going to buy a place in Wales, then?”
“Once my flat sells.” And what a relief to get rid of that fucking great mortgage. “I’ll be renting for a while at first.”
As we finish our drinks, I can feel the moment slipping away. How am I going to grovel if I can’t get Mac on her own? If only Brooklyn could take a hint and disappear for a while, but that’s not looking likely.
“Anyway,” Mac says. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow you can come clubbing with us. We’re meeting at the Swan at eight. But obviously, you don’t have to meet us there. I can text you the club we end up at.”
It’s like a reprieve. “Sounds great.” I agree so fast she blinks at me in obvious surprise. “Anyway, thanks for the coffee. I’ll leave you both to it.” She follows me out of the kitchen, and when we’re by the front door, I turn to her. It’s just the two of us, and it’s almost like Saturday night never happened. It’s hard not to cradle her face and give her a lingering kiss, but somehow, I resist. There’s no way I’m fucking this up. If I have to wait four years for our next kiss, then that’s what I’ll do. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
…
Mackenzie
It’s ten to eight as I reach the Swan, and I still can’t get over the fact that last night Will not only went all the way to Oxford to see me, but then drove back to Notting Hill.
It didn’t have anything to do with my box of stuff. He wants us to stay friends.
More than friends?
Brooklyn ignored all my subtle hints to give Will and me some alone time. But that’s okay. If he decides not to come out with us tonight, I’ll make up some excuse to go see him tomorrow.
Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys) Page 18
