There’s a million reasons I’d know. The way he looks at me, the way he cares, the way he holds me and kisses me and his eyes turn so dark when he wants me. The way he breathes so steadily when he’s sleeping next to me. The way he speaks with me, shares things with me, the way he’s so tender when he brushes my hair.
“I just know,” I tell her, and there’s that confidence again. I’ve never been confident before. It feels so weird.
“So, what you gonna do now? Get knocked up and have two-point-four kids and live happily ever after in his fancy house?”
The thought of that makes me feel so tickly inside. “Maybe.”
She looks at me like I’m an idiot. A real idiot. “Jesus, Laine. What’s wrong with you? You want to have kids with creepy guy?”
“He’s not creepy.”
“He’s so fucking creepy. Buying you a phone and making your sandwiches, dressing you up sweet in your cute little pastel clothes.”
I look down at my outfit. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Urgh. Nothing.” She rolls her eyes again. “I’m just worried, alright? You’re so weird lately.”
Happy. I think the word is happy. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her, but as usual she’s done with talking about me. “He does know you’re coming out for my birthday, right?”
My heart drops at the revelation. Kelly Anne’s birthday. I calculate the date. Saturday. The thought pains.
“I, um… I didn’t know we were…”
She looks genuinely hurt. “You’re not coming?! For real? Like we don’t always go out on my fucking birthday!”
I wouldn’t call it that. A couple down her local pub where they knew we were underage but didn’t care.
“We can go,” I say. “Just for a few, like normal.”
She groans. “No way, Laine! Clubbing on the beachfront. There’s a drum and bass night I want to check out.” My stomach lurches at the thought, and she must see the horror. “I said I was sorry! You can keep hold of your own shit this time if you’re so worried.”
I want to say no, want to tell her to go out with some of her fake Facebook friends instead. The ones who like her comments but don’t give a shit about her in real life.
“You’d have more fun with other people, Kels. I’m not really up for drinking that much.”
Her frown makes me feel so guilty. “But you’re my best friend! I want you to meet Mason! Please, Laine! Jeez, do you want me to fucking beg or something? I said I’m sorry about last time, what else do you want?” Class is about to start, but she folds her arms and makes no move to leave. “Please, Laine! Say you’ll come!”
I’m so cornered. Cornered and guilty.
“I’ll talk to Nick…”
“You need his permission now?!”
“No,” I say. And I don’t. I’m sure I don’t. Even though I’m also sure I do.
“So you’ll come, then?”
I’m trapped. Her eyes pleading and her shoulders so rigid. I’m trapped into going out for her birthday, because she’s been my friend for as long as I can remember.
“Alright,” I say. “I’ll come. But only for a few, okay? Just for a few!”
She grins, triumphant, then slings her arm around my shoulder as we head for class.
All I feel is dread.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nick
I’m more tired than I can remember. Amusing though it is, I should be far too sensible to indulge in a crazy weekend of fucking on such little sleep. Still, I feel sated. Thoroughly sated.
I feel blessed. Calm.
Loved.
A tap on my door, and my bright-eyed assistant steps in. She looks considerably fresher than I feel.
“Morning, Penny,” I offer, and my tiredness fades into the background as I notice the box in her hands.
“Morning, Mr Lynch.” Her smile is nervous. “I picked out that gift you wanted. Charged it to your expenses account on the weekend. I hope that’s okay,” she dithers in front of my desk, so unsure. “It was expensive…”
I wave her concerns aside. “That’s great, Penny. Thank you.”
She sighs, pretends to wipe her brow. And then she hands it over.
The box is black leather with fine embossed lettering. It opens so smoothly in my hands.
Penny stares at me as I stare at the gift she’s chosen. It’s beautiful. A perfect heart, so tasteful in its simplicity, twinkling with a delicate pink stone as an accent.
“It’s platinum,” she says. “And that’s a real diamond…”
“An excellent choice.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
I close the box, and meet her smile. “Thank you, Penny.”
She hovers, and I stay quiet as she plucks up whatever courage she’s summoning. “Will she like it?”
“I hope so,” I say.
“She’s a lucky girl.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate such a beautiful gift.” I wait for it, interested to see how bold she is with her questioning.
She keeps her eyes on the box. “Will she wear it to the Christmas party?”
The Christmas party.
I’ve barely given it a thought. It’s been merely a duty up until now. My attendance a necessary annoyance as senior partner of the practice.
I imagine Laine on my arm this year, and the prospect is considerably more appealing.
“I would think so, Penny.”
Her eyes are so warm. “That’s great. What’s her name?”
“Laine,” I say.
“Laine,” she repeats. “I look forward to meeting her.”
“I’m sure she’ll enjoy meeting you, too.”
She makes to leave, but I call her back. “One more thing, Penny, if you will.”
“Of course.”
I open the gallery app on my phone and ping a copy of the butterfly picture to her inbox as she waits. “I’ve emailed you an image. I’d like it printed, please, a frame, too. I know you’ll find something just perfect.”
“I’ll do my best, Mr Lynch.”
I’m sure she will.
My phone tells me it’s almost lunchtime as I drop it back onto my desk.
I’ve just time to finish up my current report before it’s time to call Laine.
Laine
Kelly Anne doesn’t bother speaking as we sit in the canteen. She knows the routine by now, knows he’ll be calling me any minute.
I dig in my bag for my phone, just like always. I like to be prepared for when his call comes in.
Only my phone isn’t in my bag this morning.
I root around, as though searching all the harder will make it materialise out of thin air.
Kelly Anne sighs as she watches. “Left your fancy phone at home, did you? Daddy Nick’s gonna be pissed you’re not at his beck and call.”
She has no idea.
I feel like such an ass for sleeping in and rushing so fast to make it up to him. I can imagine exactly where my phone is, still plugged in at the side of the bed, probably still chirping out the alarm that I snoozed ten times this morning. Shit.
I feel myself pale, my mouth dry as paper.
“Chill, Laine, it’s just a phone. No big deal.”
But it is a big deal. He always calls at one on the dot. He likes to get hold of me, to check I’m okay.
“He always calls…” I begin, like she has a hope of hell of understanding.
“So?”
“So, he always calls. It’s important.”
She tuts at me. “So important. I’m sure he can wait a few hours for a status update on how yummy your sandwich was.”