“I’ll think about it.”
“Good, because it’s time you started doing something for yourself for a change. You spend too much of your life supporting everyone else around you.”
“It’s what I enjoy.”
“I know you do, and I know it makes you happy. But you’re important too.”
She yawns, and it’s the perfect reminder of what the biggest issue is right now.
“I should get you home.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t. Don’t ever be sorry. None of this is your fault.”
“I know. I just hate that I’ve put that look in your eye once more.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m stronger than I look, it seems.”
“That you are, girl. That you are.”
We pay our small bill before heading out to find my car.
“I could do with a few groceries, but I’m not sure I’m going to make it,” she admits, resting her head back the second she’s in the seat, her eyes looking heavy with exhaustion.
“Tell me what you need and I’ll run in. Unless you’d rather go straight home.”
“I can wait in the car. I don’t want you doing more than necessary.”
I want to tell her that it’s the least I can do, but she looks too tired for the inevitable argument that would follow.
“As long as you’re sure. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine,” she argues, but I can see in her eyes that it’s all lies. She quickly lists off a few things she needs before resting back once again and closing her eyes.
I look over once we’re out on the freeway, and I find she’s already asleep.
My chest aches with the knowledge that she’s in constant discomfort, yet to an outsider they’d never know. She appears so strong, so healthy, especially with her perfectly applied make-up and styled hair. Underneath all of that is just a shell of a woman. Every time I see her, a little more of her spark has gone and it kills me. I hate to imagine what the next few weeks—couple of months, if we’re lucky—might be like as I watch her lose her fight against this disease.
I grab all the items my aunt asked for before adding a new bottle of rum, some cola and a bar of chocolate to the cart and heading to the register. That’s my night sorted.
“You should call him.” My aunt’s words ring out in my mind as I join the line, and my stomach twists uncomfortably. He’s probably forgotten all about me by now. For all I know, he found a replacement the moment I left and spent the night with her instead.
Pushing aside the thought, I pay for our groceries and head back toward where my aunt is still sleeping.
The ride back is in silence, and I’m glad. My head is spinning with everything the doctors said alongside my aunt’s advice. I know she’s right. I need to stop worrying about everyone else, but that’s easier said than done. For as long as I can remember, I’ve put myself last. For a long time it was easier to focus on others and their issues than it was to think about my own disaster of a life.
After helping her in, I put the few groceries away while my aunt changes and settles herself on the couch.
“Would you like me to stay?” I ask from the doorway.
“No, no. You get off and enjoy yourself.”
“I’m not sure I’m really up for it.”
“Harlow,” she says on a sigh. “Take it from someone older and possibly a little bit wiser. Life goes by in the blink of an eye. It’s too short not to enjoy yourself. So put on your dancing shoes and drag Bailey out for a night of fun if you’re still insistent that you’re not going to call your mystery man.”
I nod, her hopeful expression too much to deny. “I’ll see what I can do.”
My aunt smiles, but I’m not sure if she believes me or not. Honestly, I don’t believe myself either.
“Just don’t waste time, Lo.” Walking over to her, I drop a kiss to her cheek and promise to call her in the morning.
I leave her house with a heavy heart, wondering how many more times I’m going to get to do so.
Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to give in to them until I’m in the safety of my car. The second I close the door behind me, everything I’ve kept bottled inside since walking out of the doctor’s office explodes.
I cry, sob and wail for everything I’m about to lose. My aunt is all I have now. She’s picked me up time and time again, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.
I sit there for the longest time, trying to imagine what’s to come for us and how my life is going to change once again when the time comes to say goodbye to her.
Movement in her living room window catches my eye and forces me to turn the engine on and pull away from my parking spot. The last thing I need is her knowing how much this is ripping me apart. I can’t imagine how she’s coping; she doesn’t need to be worrying about me as well.
I slam my foot down on the accelerator and speed off down the street. The bottle of rum and the chocolate call to me from the trunk, and I fully intend on pulling on some yoga pants and sitting my ass down on the couch with both at the first possible opportunity.
I pull up on the driveway to the house Bailey and I share and let out a large sigh. I wipe any remaining tears from my eyes, although I know it’s pointless. The second she sees the redness surrounding them, she’ll know. She always does. That’s the thing with us; we might be polar opposites with everything these days, but our connection runs deeper, stronger than any differences in opinion or taste.
With my grocery bag of goodies in hand, I push through the front door. She’s there immediately.
A sob erupts from my throat and she rushes for me. Somehow she takes the bag from my hands before it crashes to the floor and pulls me into her arms.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers in my ear as she holds me.
“She… she might only have weeks, B.”
“It’s going to be okay,” she soothes.
“How?”
“Because it will. You’re stronger than this.”
“What if I don’t want to be?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not a choice right now. She needs you, and I know you’ll do everything you can for her. But I’m here for anything else you need. I know you’re freaking out that she’s about to leave you alone, but that’s not true. You’ve got me, you’ve got my parents. We’re all here for you, H.”
“I know you are. She’s just—”
“I know, but she needs to know you’re okay, that you’re going to be okay. She’ll never tell you, but she’s terrified too.”
I pull out of my best friend’s arms and narrow my watery eyes at her. “She called you, didn’t she?”
“Of course. Come on.”
I follow her through to the kitchen where I find a big glass of rum and Coke waiting for me.
“Thank you,” I mutter, happily accepting the glass as she passes it over.
“Drink that and then go and sort yourself out. We’re going out.”
I groan. “B, no.”
“No arguments. I’m not allowing you to sit around here and stew on things you can’t change. We’re not doing anything crazy, just food and a few drinks. Anyway, you can’t say no because I promised your aunt I would cheer you up, so…” She gives me a faux innocent smile.
Although fake, and the fact that ‘nothing crazy’ is probably a lie, I feel the first bit of excitement I have all day. I could argue and continue with my plan to drink my misery away alone on the couch, or I could go out with my best friend who’s going to do everything she can to put a smile on my face.
“Okay,” I say, having a large sip of my drink. “Whoa. How much rum did you put in this?”
“Enough.” She shrugs. “I’ve got to be honest,” she says as she follows me from the kitchen. “I thought it would take a little more convincing.”
“A night with you sounds like exactly what I need. And do you know what?” She lifts a brow as I spin around to fa
ce her. “I’m even going to let you pick what I wear.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
“Funny. I don’t want to think, so just point me in the right direction and make sure I have a drink in my hand at all times.”
“Done. Go get in the shower and I’ll work on the wardrobe.”
With my drink still in hand, I walk into my bathroom and turn the shower on. My aunt was right about something: I need a distraction, and although I might not be willing to find a man in order to do it, my best friend fits the bill.
I shower, take off what’s left of today’s makeup and wrap a towel around both my body and my hair before walking out of my bathroom.
I find Bailey standing in the middle of my room in just her underwear with two dress options hanging from her fingers. The first one is a definite no—I think I’ve got skirts that are bigger—but the second one is perfect.
“Okay, this is gorgeous,” I say, taking the soft floral fabric between my fingers. “Why have you never tried making me wear this one before?” I notice the tag still hanging on the back.
“Because I bought it for your birthday. I just thought you might need it tonight instead.”
“How many times do I need to tell you not to buy me anything for my birthday?”
“Every year. But equally, every year I’ll ignore you. So happy birthday,” she says despite the fact it’s still over a month away, holding the hanger out for me to take. I do so eagerly.
It’s a stunning navy wrap dress with bright pink flowers covering it. Granted, it’s a good few inches shorter than I’d usually choose for myself, but it’s got full sleeves to make up for it.
“You’ve got thirty minutes. I’ve booked us a table.”
“Where?”
She taps her nose before walking out of the door, holding the other miniscule dress to her body. God help me if she’s wearing that, the guys will trip over themselves just to get a look.
I pull out one of my nicest sets of underwear in the hope that it, along with the dress, will cheer me up before spritzing myself with perfume and pulling it all on.
I dry my hair and make quick work of accentuating my natural curls, allowing it to hang down over my shoulders before going for my makeup. My mood has me applying it a little heavier than I usually would, but when I sit back and look myself over, I can’t help but be pleased. I look a million miles from the girl who broke down in the hall not so long ago. My armor is firmly back in place, and I’m ready to spend some time with one of my favorite people.
“Are you ready?” I call to Bailey as I slip my feet into a pair of wedges and swipe a clutch from my closet.
“Almost. You?”
I drop my gloss and cell into the small purse and walk to her room.
“Ready.”
She glances over her shoulder at me, her eyes going wide as she takes me in. “Whoa, girl. That dress was made for you.”
“I love it. Thank you so much.”
“You’re more than welcome. I wish you’d let me shop for you more often.” She stands, revealing her tiny black bodycon dress, and I remember why she shouldn’t be my personal shopper. “Oh shush,” she says with a wave of her hand, knowing my exact thoughts about the scrap of fabric she calls a dress. “Let’s go.”
Her hand slips into mine and she pulls me through the house. Outside, I find an Uber waiting for us, and after locking the front door we climb in.
Bailey confirms our destination and we head off.
It’s only a few minutes later that we pull up in front of my favorite tapas restaurant.
“You got a table last minute?”
“Sure did,” she says with a wink.
“Oh God, who did you promise what to?”
“Moi?”
“The innocent look doesn’t wash with me, B.”
Rolling her eyes, she huffs out a breath. “I might have agreed to a date with Todd.”
“You did not!” I squeal.
“See how much I love you?”
“Oh, like it’s really a hardship. He’s not exactly bad looking.” Todd’s been a waiter here since it opened, and he’s hit on Bailey every single time we’ve been. Every single time she knocks him back. I’ve no idea the real reason, she comes up with some pathetic excuse each time before deflecting the conversation.
“If it puts a smile on your face, then it’ll be worth it.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely as we walk toward the entrance. As if he was waiting, Todd pulls the door open and greets us, okay Bailey, with a wide smile. Credit where credit’s due, his eyes don’t drop in favor of her body for almost a whole minute.
“I secured you both the best table.”
“Thank you, Todd. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I can assure you that the pleasure is all mine,” he mutters almost absently as Bailey walks ahead, giving him full sight of her ass.
I laugh at him before following her lead.
“You want the usual?”
“You got it.”
Todd nods and walks away to place our order. We’ve spent so much time here in the past year that he doesn’t even need to write it down now.
Bailey chats away about a guy she’s been messaging that she met the previous night after I left, and I’m grateful that she keeps my mind on less depressing matters. Todd arrives with a giant decanter of sangria and two glasses. The place is packed, so he doesn’t hang around as long even if it’s clear he would like to.
“I don’t know what your issue is with him, he’s sweet.”
“Exactly. I don’t want sweet. I want a bad boy.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Of course you do.”
“And what about you? Is there a reason that you’re avoiding talking about last night?”
My temperature rises just thinking about it. “No, there’s just nothing to talk about.”
“Oh right. Yeah, sorry, I forgot that you getting all up in that hot Brit’s business was a totally normal thing for you to do.”
“It was the tequila,” I argue, much to her amusement.
Chapter Six
Corey
I’m pretty sure that I should feel some sense of relief or comfort as I walk into my flat after my shift at the studio, but with all my shit in boxes and my looming eviction, I can’t find it in me to want to be here. I should be living the life right now. That’s exactly what I tell everyone else, and it’s what they believe.
I was terrified when Zach flew over a few weeks ago to check the place out that he was going to discover the truth and demand he help, and I knew he wouldn’t have stopped until he did. But I don’t want help. He already pays me healthily for my position here. He was the one who believed in my dream and allowed it to happen in the first place. Without him I’d still be stuck, drowning in my own miserable life. At least here I get to see the sun and the sand every day.
I pull my fridge open and stare at the empty racks. Not even a block of moldy fucking cheese. I fucking hate this, but what choice do I have? I can’t leave Mum and my sisters, they need me, and I might be all kinds of fucked up but I’m not him. I won’t abandon them when they’re at rock bottom. They sure as hell didn’t leave me.
With a sigh, I pull the one bottle of water from the fridge and fall down into the chair, contemplating going to find some dinner.
I’m just about to leave the flat once again when my phone dings with a text.
Pulling it from my pocket, I find an unknown number staring back at me.
Hey! It’s Harlow (from last night). I’d love to see you again. Meet me at the Underground. I’m downstairs x
I reread the message again and again, my brows drawing together. Did her friend give me a fake number? Good job I didn’t message her earlier.
It might be totally unexpected, but fuck if it doesn’t have a little excitement filling my veins. I’ve hardly stopped thinking about her since the moment she made her excuses last night. The way her body felt
pressed up against mine on that dance floor… damn. My cock’s getting hard just thinking about her body.
I’ll be thirty minutes.
The message shows as read, but she never replies. Excitement and anticipation race through me. This is exactly what I fucking need.
Without putting any more thought into dinner, I stand and march straight towards the bathroom. If she’s giving me this second chance, like fuck am I going to screw it up.
With the intention of doing everything I can to ensure I end today buried deep inside her and pushing away any thoughts of my reality, I step out of my clothes to freshen up.
After running a little wax through my hair, I slip my feet into my shoes and drop both my wallet and phone into my pocket. At the last minute, I turn back and grab a few condoms from the dresser. A smile twitches at my lips as I imagine her laid out before me, her red hair fanning my pillow and her curves on full display.
I look around the room on my way out and tell myself that it won’t be happening here. Fuck the expense, I’ll book us a hotel if I have to. No one needs to see how I’m living right now.
Stepping from my building, I find the Uber I booked waiting for me.
“Evenin’,” I say as I climb in and quickly confirm my destination.
He chats away about my plans, and it only builds my hope that I’m about to end my dry spell with a girl who captured my attention the second she fell into my lap last night.
I could have easily gone and found some pussy since I arrived, but something—aside from being busy with the shop—has stopped me. Stupid sappy thoughts that maybe I was waiting for her fill my mind before I quickly shake them away. This isn’t about romance, I don’t sign up for that shit. This is about getting what I need—what we both need, if the way her body reacted to mine last night is anything to go by.
The place is packed when the car pulls up out the front, and I end up having to wait to even get inside.
By the time the bouncer lifts the rope and allows me in, I’m desperate for a fucking drink. I make a beeline for the bar and order a scotch. I swallow it down in one, enjoying the burn and waiting for the warmth to hit me.
Inked: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World) Page 5
