Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
A slow smile crept across his face. “Come back in six months, and I’ll remind you of those words.”
“I’m sure you will.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, one way or another, it’ll all work out, I’m sure.”
“Aye,” he said gruffly. “Just a matter of whether it’s for the best or the worst, ain’t it?”
10
* * *
DELILAH
“Icannot believe you’re actually here.”
Fred looked up from his phone and raised his eyebrows. “I told you I’d pick you up from work, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but the last time you said that, you fell asleep with your phone on silent and I had to walk home.”
He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “If I did that now, Nana would castrate me.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Ooh, is this your boyfriend act? Very well done, my lord.”
He yanked open the passenger door, looking at me flatly. “Get in the car, or I’ll take the castration.”
Oh, he was grumpy.
Of course, he was. He was one of those weird morning people—up with the birds, exercised and dressed by eight a.m., ready and raring to go.
One a.m. was his prime sleep time, and here he was, picking me up.
I sighed and got in the car. All right, fine. I wouldn’t be too much of a brat to him tonight. I was grateful, after all. He’d dealt with the issues Nana had caused with my car, and he was doing me a huge favour by getting me right now.
I was exhausted.
Friday nights were always too busy, and there’d been live music tonight, so it was extra chaotic.
My feet hurt, there was a blister on my big toe, and I had a sticky patch of an unidentified origin on the back of my left upper arm.
Why the hell was I still working in a pub?
“You want me to take you home and get you tomorrow?” Fred asked gruffly, stifling a yawn.
“No. I’ll just stay at yours.”
He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening.
I paused when I caught the slight clench of his jaw. “Is that not all right?”
He didn’t answer.
“Just take me home, then,” I said with a sigh. “Mum can bring me to get my car in the morning.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s just… Everyone thinks we’re in a relationship, Deli.”
“Yeah, and?”
He half-laughed, half-sighed. “Do you think two people of our age would sleep in separate bedrooms if we were spending the night together?”
Oh. Was that it?
“No, but it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed,” I replied. “We did it just three months ago when you messed up that booking for that engagement party I went to with you.”
He glanced at me. “All right. But if you wake me up after your shower, don’t get mad if I kick you out.”
“How did you know I was going to shower?”
“You shower after every shift, and you keep picking at your arm, which means you have something on it that you can’t get off.” His lips twitched up. “There’s a little packet of wet wipes in the centre console.”
“Oh. First a hairband, now wet wipes. Is there anything you don’t have in this car?” I rummaged through the little storage spot and pulled out a travel-size packet of wipes.
Score.
“With you around? No, there’s probably everything you could possibly need. I think there’s even some pads or tampons in the first aid kit in the back seat.”
I scrubbed at my arm, and the wipes got the worst of the stickiness off. I scrunched it into a ball and reached into the back of his chair for the first aid kit, then unzipped it for a quick nosy.
There were four pads in there—two daytime, two nighttime.
“Wow. I’m starting to understand why nobody is surprised we’re supposedly dating,” I said, zipping it again to put it back where it belonged. “That’s not normal to do for your best friend, do you know that?”
“Our friendship isn’t normal,” he said dryly. “Never has been. Is it any wonder neither of us have been able to have a proper long-term relationship?”
“Hey, that’s not fair. You were with Charlotte for years, and we didn’t act like this then. We’ve always distanced ourselves and been respectful of each other’s partners.”
“Yes, but I spent most of those years with her accusing me of cheating on her,” he reminded me.
“Excuse you, I remember there was one point where we went six months with barely seeing one another. I was ready to dump you as my best friend for good then.”
“Yes, yes, I remember. You know, sometimes I think I should have married her, if only for some peace from you.”
I smacked his arm. “You would have traded my chaos for hers, ended up divorced, and come running back to me.”
He looked over at me with a wry smile as the gates to Hawthorne House creaked open. “How ironic, then, that I’m willingly walking into your chaos only to end up divorced.”