Not So Happily Ever After

by Christina Phillips

  “Uh-huh.”

  The very fact she isn’t immediately digging for more information makes me twitchy. “He even cooked dinner for us the other night. He’s not bad. Well, I didn’t get food poisoning.” And last night we watched a movie marathon, kicking off with The Princess Bride, snuggled up on his sofa and eating popcorn. Just like that night soon after he first bought his flat, when I made him watch it for the very first time. Except that time there were no snuggles.

  “Oh-kay then.” There’s a smirk on her face, but there’s nothing I can do about that, since if our positions were reversed, I’m sure I’d be doing the same thing to her. “It isn’t all about the bonking, then?”

  Hell, no. I press my lips together before I incriminate myself further. Not that it matters. My silence tells her everything.

  I groan and rake my fingers through my hair. “It’s like the last two years never happened.”

  “Has he apologized?”

  I stare at her blankly, as I trawl through my mind for clues as to what she means. Since she doesn’t know he stood me up on Boxing Day, it’s not that. “What?”

  “For being such a prick to you. I mean okay, so the sex is great, and his cooking is great, blah blah.” She does little quotes with her fingers each time she says great. “But don’t forget what an arsehole he was after that Christmas hookup, Mac.”

  Shit. I squirm on my chair and doodle on the table with my finger. My wounded self-esteem lapped up Brooklyn’s loyalty after he hurt me two years ago. But that was then. I don’t like her bad mouthing him now. Not that I blame her. It’s my own fault.

  “He really wasn’t that much of an arsehole, Brook.”

  She scoffs. “All right, I know you’ve got a bad case of brain fog, what with all the amazing sex you’re having. But I haven’t forgotten the things he said to you. All I’m saying is, don’t fall for him. Okay?”

  Too late.

  “I don’t have brain fog.” That’s safer than confronting the whole falling for him thing.

  Worry flashes over her face, which in a way is worse than her slagging Will off. “Mac,” she begins, and there’s nothing else for it. If I want to avoid talking about one thing, I’ll have to admit to the other.

  “Look. Here’s the thing.” I fiddle with my fork so I don’t have to look at her. Admitting my sins isn’t an easy task. “He was never really that much of a bastard to me afterward. It was me. And all that stuff I told you? They were his responses to my snide digs.”

  She’s silent for so long, I risk glancing up. She frowns at me. “Why didn’t you tell me? Anyway, not that it excuses him. I reckon he still owes you an apology.”

  I can’t help leaping to his defense. “He really doesn’t. Anyway, we’ve gone past all that.”

  She folds her arms on the table and leans forward. “Are you two going to keep dating when you go back to Uni?”

  “What? No. You know this is temporary. I’m just getting him out of my system. Like you suggested,” I add, unnecessarily, but I feel she’s abdicating her share of the responsibility here.

  “And have you?”

  I’m tempted to tell her yes. But first, she wouldn’t believe me. And second, there’s no way I’d ever lie outright to her. It was bad enough only telling her half the truth about Will for the last couple of years.

  “I’m getting there.” Bloody hope I am.

  “You do realize it’s Friday, right?” she says, as though I might’ve forgotten Will and I only have a couple more nights together before we call it quits. “You’re cutting it a bit fine.”

  Don’t I know it. “Oh shit.”

  “What?” She asks.

  I let out an annoyed breath. “We’ve got that Atomic Fire party tomorrow night.”

  “Can’t you just go for an hour? To show your faces?”

  Maybe. But Saturday is our last night together, and I don’t want to share it with anyone else. Least of all a celebrity-packed bash stuffed with paparazzi.

  “I don’t know. I suppose it depends on how Jake is.”

  I’ll call Lucas and tell him I’m busy Saturday and can’t make the party. Except that’s pointless if Will doesn’t cancel, too. And if we both pull out at the last moment, how suspicious will that look?

  Seems I have no choice. And then I get a brainwave.

  Why don’t I just go to Uni early Monday morning? That gives us another whole day together. Why didn’t I think of that before?

  …

  Will

  Thank fuck it’s Friday.

  It’s my usual end of week mantra, especially after the end-of-month review and forecast financial meeting, but there’s an additional rush of anticipation this afternoon. Like the adrenaline high when I’m due to go to Wales, except it’s different.

  Better.

  Because I’m seeing Mac after work.

  I swivel the leather chair away from my desk so I can stretch my legs and work the kinks out of my shoulders. It’s crazy how much I enjoy catching up with her every evening. Makes being enclosed in a glass office on the tenth floor for ten hours a day more bearable.

  One of the reasons I bought the flat at Hyde Park is because it’s so close to the company’s offices in Marble Arch. On a good day I jog across the park to work, and if that’s not feasible, it only takes a few minutes on the tube.

  Still another hour before I can leave. I stifle a yawn. Wonder if she’ll be up for a getaway somewhere? I roll the chair back to my desk and search “romantic weekend getaway” online. There’s a first time for everything, and this is mine for wanting to take a girl on a surprise mini-break. She’ll definitely be up for it. There’s a stupid grin on my face as I scroll down the page, but I don’t care. No one can see it.

  My phone buzzes, and I grab it, for some reason so sure it’s her that I don’t even check the ID. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Lucas says, and my grin drops off my face damn fast. Fuck. Even though it’s completely illogical, I click off the hotel site I’d been checking out.

  It’s not like he can see what you’re doing.

  “Hi. Whassup?” Do I sound guilty? It’s the second time he’s caught me having dirty thoughts about his sister. I grip the back of my neck with my free hand and lean back in my chair until I’m staring at the ceiling. Unfortunately, divine inspiration on how to end this conversation before it’s even started doesn’t materialize.

  “It’s a cup game tomorrow, and they’re giving some of the reserves a run out. Means I’m free to come home for the night.”

  Obviously, my brain’s not functioning on all gears. “What?”

  “Violet and I are coming to the party. She’s not seen her mum for a few weeks, so we thought we’d do the Atomic Fire thing before spending Sunday with her family.”

  Fucking bollocks. I’d forgotten about that bloody party. “Does that mean I’m off the hook?”

  “Don’t be a prat.” He sounds disgustingly cheerful. “Anyway, there’ll be loads of gorgeous chicks there.”

  There’s only one gorgeous chick I’m interested in. Yeah, and if Lucas finds out who she is, there’ll be hell to pay with interest.

  “Right.” Bang goes my plan of getting away from it all with Mac for a couple of nights. But that’s not all that’s bugging me. How are we going to handle things tomorrow with her brother there?

  “Unless,” my best friend says, “you’re bringing a plus one?”

  A plus one? My palms are sweaty, and I’ve no clue how to respond.

  “You never know.” Where the hell did that come from? Dipstick.

  “You’re shitting me?” He sounds amazed. “Is this the girl you were with the other morning?”

  Oh, yeah. And every morning this week. “Since when are you interested in my sex life?”

  Nice one, Will. Keep this up, and you’ll bury yourself without any help from your former best friend.

  “I don’t give a fuck about your sex life.”

  He’s laughing, and it’s a good job we’re o
nly on the phone and not Skyping so he can’t see the guilt dripping from me. I need to hang up ASAP. “Remember you said that.”

  For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong with me? It’s like I’m trying to soften the blow for when he discovers the truth.

  He’s not going to discover the truth. What am I on? Mac doesn’t want her family finding out about us. The whole point is that this is a brief fling. It’s all she wants.

  All I want.

  Yeah, about that…

  “Whoa,” Lucas says. “Can’t wait to meet her. Make sure you bring her tomorrow.”

  He hangs up, and I toss my phone onto the desk. So much for having one last weekend together. By the time I leave work, it’s bugging the shit out of me, and I don’t even know why.

  We’ve still got tonight. And tomorrow. There’s nothing stopping us from escaping the party before midnight and spending the rest of the night together.

  The last night before she goes back to Uni.

  And our fake-dating, friends-with-benefits arrangement ends.

  Except I’m not ready to let her go yet.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Will

  “It just doesn’t feel right, Margo making plans for the family. I’m the one who does that.”

  I tug Mac closer and kiss her cheek. She met me from work, and we’re walking home across the park. “Did you make plans for tomorrow, then?”

  It never crossed my mind she’d want to spend the day with her dad rather than me. I’ve got so used to her being around, I assumed she wouldn’t have anything else planned. How insane is that? Just as well I didn’t book a surprise getaway.

  She shoots me an exasperated frown. “That’s not the point. If we are doing a family thing to wave me off to Uni, it should be up to me to plan it.”

  “You didn’t organize anything?”

  She pulls a face. “Will. You’re totally missing the point of this conversation.”

  I grin, which obviously isn’t the right reaction since she fake punches my shoulder. “Did you tell her you can’t make it?”

  “I didn’t get the chance. Apparently, Harry and Alice have already said they’re going.”

  My amusement fades. “Right.”

  She pokes me in the ribs. “You haven’t heard the best bit yet. She asked if I wanted you to come, too. Now, why would she ask that? It’s just weird.”

  It’s my turn to frown. Although I often turn up at Carter get-togethers, it doesn’t make sense to be invited to this. “Lucas must be going.” Strange he didn’t mention it, though.

  “What?” She gives me a have you lost your mind look. “How can he be going when he’s in Spain? Why would you even say that?”

  That’s my cue to tell her about tomorrow night. “Because—”

  “God, that’d be a nightmare.” She gives a theatrical shudder. “Can you imagine it?”

  Unfortunately, yes. “What did you tell her?”

  “I couldn’t say no without sounding like a bitch, could I? The thing is…” She hesitates and bites her lip, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. I have the crazy urge to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything’s going to be fine.

  It’s only a bloody family lunch.

  “What?” I prompt, when it appears she’s not going to finish.

  She heaves a sigh. “I don’t know.” She shoots me a strangely furtive glance. “You don’t think she’s guessed about us, do you?”

  Jesus. That’d be fun. “Why would she?”

  “I’m probably overthinking it. There’s no reason why she would.”

  She’s got me overthinking it, now. “Where does your dad think you’ve been all this week?”

  “With friends,” she says vaguely. “I mean, I see him during the day when he’s around. Actually, since it’s all come out into the open with Margo, he’s been going out more than he used to.” She pauses. “Or maybe he’s been doing that for a while? How would I know, when I’ve been at Uni?”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “You can if you want.”

  Not the reply I was hoping for.

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  “I’ve got nothing better to do. Might as well.”

  “There’s no need to sound so excited about it.”

  “It’s not what I imagined we’d be doing for our last day together.”

  “I know.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “But I had this idea. I could put off going to Oxford until early Monday morning. That gives us an extra night. What do you think?”

  I loop my arms around her. She smiles at me and links her hands behind my neck. A few strands of her hair drift across her cheek in the breeze, and even though we’re in the middle of a busy public park, she’s the only one I see. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll take Monday off and drive you up to Oxford myself.”

  It’s almost 1:00 p.m. on Saturday when I park on Mac’s drive, behind Harry’s Range Rover. She went home earlier this morning, and I went for an extra-long run around the park. But it didn’t burn off the excess energy buzzing through my blood. I’m not sure if it’s because I have to pretend in front of her family there’s nothing going on between Mac and me, or because I missed not having her jogging by my side.

  I exhale a long breath. She’s jogged with me only a handful of times. Don’t know why it feels like she always has. You’re losing your fucking grip.

  Or it’s a side effect of guilt. That sounds more like it.

  Harry opens the door for me. “We were about to start without you.”

  “I’m not late.” I was told to arrive between twelve thirty and one. I didn’t want to look desperate and turn up early.

  Harry shrugs. “The food arrived ten minutes ago. Margo’s acting weird.”

  Instead of going into the sitting room where we usually have informal lunches, Harry heads to the dining room. Seriously, I thought the Carters only ever used that room at Christmas.

  The table’s decked out like something from a reality show. In the center there’s a big display of dried flowers and leaves and huge twigs. I catch Mac’s eye, where she’s sitting at one end of the table, and her smile is agonized.

  Bloody hell. This looks more like something my mother used to arrange when she did her charity lunches than anything I’m used to with the Carters.

  “Ah, Will.” Their dad shakes my hand. “Good of you to make it.”

  “Wonderful.” Margo gives me her usual air kiss, but even I can feel the odd tension radiating from her. And I’ve been told, several times, that I’m about as sensitive as a rock when it comes to stuff like that.

  “Thanks for the invite.” It’s hard, but I manage not to glance in Mac’s direction. That plan’s doomed as soon as Margo waves me to the chair on Mac’s left.

  Harry sits next to Alice, and they exchange an unreadable glance. Obviously, Mac and I aren’t the only ones feeling out of place. I pull out my chair and park my arse.

  “Well, now.” Margo beams her professional smile around the table, the smile she usually reserves for when she’s in front of the camera. “Everyone, help yourself to lunch.” She waves a hand to the sideboard, which is overflowing with covered dishes.

  Nobody moves.

  At times like this, Lucas with his big mouth and easy charm would be a godsend. Harry, on the other hand, just slouches in his chair, looking vaguely bemused by the whole thing.

  I leap to my feet. “Great. I’m starving.” I saunter over to the sideboard and pick up a plate. “This all looks fantastic.”

  “Thank you, Will.” Margo sounds relieved. “It’s from Archipelago.”

  “I didn’t even know they delivered,” Mac says, appearing by my side and taking a helping of delicate-looking ravioli.

  “They don’t usually.” Margo hands a plate to Mac’s dad. “But I have contacts.”

  “I’ve never even heard of them.” Harry lifts the lid of a dish that contains something hot and aromatic.

  “That’s because you’re a phi
listine,” Mac says sweetly. “It’s only the place to go locally.”

  We return to our seats, and another awkward silence falls. Margo’s next to me, I’m opposite Harry, and I can’t even see Alice because of the dried forest taking up half the table.

  At least the food’s good.

  Mac runs her foot along my calf, and I almost choke on a sliver of beef. I shoot her a glance, but she’s concentrating on her food as though that’s the only thing of interest in the room.

  Two can play that game. I capture her ankle between my feet and hide my smirk by taking another forkful of food. She flexes her foot but doesn’t try very hard to escape. I risk another glance, and this time she’s chewing her lip and shaking with silent laughter.

  This is insane. I release her before I lose it, and rack my brain for something to say. I don’t usually suffer from that problem, and never have before at the Carters, but this lunch is something else.

  Before I can think of something brilliant, Margo places her knife on the table next to me and takes a deep breath. “This isn’t working, is it?”

  The silence is deafening. Harry’s frowning, and when I glance at Mac, she widens her eyes in a what the fuck is happening way.

  “I wanted to do a lovely lunch for you, Mac. I thought, if I did it differently to how you usually have your family do’s, you wouldn’t think I was trying to step on your toes. But this is excruciating.”

  All riiight then. Harry and I glance at each other, and I’m positive the get-me-out-of-here expression on his face is mirrored on mine. Neither of us moves a muscle.

  “Oh, but it is lovely.” Mac leans forward, and under the table, she gives me a hard kick on the shin. Great. What does she expect me to say?

  “Very nice,” I confirm.

  “I know this is your province,” Margo continues, looking at Mac. “I’m not trying to take over.”

  “I never thought that.”

  Christ, I hope she sounds more convincing to Margo. Or is it because I know how Mac really feels about this?

  “That’s kind of you to say.” Margo stands up. Now what? “Let’s move everything into the other room.”