Luke shook his head. “None of your business, really.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t trust me. We’ve been best friends for a really long time.”
“Pity you forgot that when you fucked my sister, eh?” Deflection felt like a fair strategy.
Matt looked down at the bubblegum-stained floor for a moment before meeting his eye. “Take your best shot at me, I don’t care. Yeah, I fuck her, you dick. And I make love to her. And I cook breakfast with her. And write songs about her. Because I love her with every bit of my being. And when you aren’t being an arsehole, I appreciate that you’ve found some kind of peace with me and her.”
Luke looked down at the nearly full pint in Matt’s hand and took it, downing half in one go.
“What is it with you and your sister always stealing my pint?” Matt said.
The thought of his sister stealing Matt’s drink almost made him smile. She was half his size, and clearly had Matt wrapped around her little finger. Jealousy surged through him. The dichotomy of wanting exactly what they had but not wanting to feel tied down battled in his mind.
“Don’t you miss it? Being out like this, able to chat with whoever you want, drink and smoke and do a line of coke whenever you want? Stay out all night if you fucking feel like it?”
Matt shook his head. “I am out like this. I’m standing right here. And I can chat with whoever I want. I’m a grown man. But what I do is respect Iz. I don’t need to be flirting and touching and sleeping with other women when I’ve already got Iz waiting for me at home. And I drink and smoke. Just nowhere near as much as I used to. Because I’m finding I enjoy a night out a whole lot more if I can remember it in the morning. Drugs were a dealbreaker for your sister, and if it was a toss-up between Iz and a couple of white lines, there would be no competition. I’d pick Iz a thousand times over. And, what else was there? Oh, right . . . I can stay out all night if I want to. Iz trusts me, and I wouldn’t do anything to wreck that. But I’m taking the early train home tomorrow because it’s Iz’s day off, and I’d like to spend it with her more than I want another drunken crawl around London.”
Luke rubbed his hand across his face. How would it feel to go home to someone you wanted to, rather than someone you were obligated to? To feel that pull toward someone instead of external forces pushing you to them.
“Thought you’d want to be heading back to Willow, no?”
“Fortunately, she doesn’t own my balls. And what happens in London, stays in London, right?”
Matt shrugged. “Whatever you say, man. It’s your life and your mess. I’m going to head back to the hotel. Why don’t you head back with me? We can pick up an overpriced kebab and eat it in the lobby of that equally overpriced hotel the label put us up in, just to piss them off, seeing they were so fucking judgemental earlier.”
The lanky man who’d checked them in had sniffed at their tattoos and accents.
Snobby fucker.
Luke looked toward a redhead near the DJ. She smiled at him, and he decided to take his chances. He hadn’t signed Willow’s contract.
Yet.
People rarely knew what the drummer of a band looked like. Nine times out of ten, people couldn’t even name them, even in the biggest bands in the world. Mick Jagger was instantly identifiable, but most people wouldn’t be able to pick Charlie Watts, God rest his soul, out of a lineup. So, he’d give the woman a fake name. No one would know.
He shook his head and gave the half-drunk pint glass back to Matt. “I’m going to stay here. I’ll see you back in Manchester, yeah?”
Matt squeezed his shoulder. “This lifestyle you’re living. There’s a balance sheet. And it’ll need settling eventually.”
He thought of the baby. He couldn’t imagine a bigger toll. “Maybe.”
“Sure I can’t convince you to head back with me to Manchester? We could do something, the four of us. Have Iz and Willow meet. Take a day trip to Blackpool or something.”
That felt too much like . . . family. Like the kind of thing couples did. Him and his pregnant . . . friend . . . fake girlfriend. And his best friend with his sister.
Shit.
It was what Willow was asking from him.
Which made him want to do it even less.
“Nah. I’m good, mate. Catch you back home, yeah?”
Maybe it was because he was weaving, but he took the staircase down to the dance floor slowly, skirting the edge where the table service was doing a hopping trade. The music was a dull throbbing beat, bright lights sprayed flashes of colour up the walls. The redhead noticed him approaching and grinned, shifting her body so her hip jutted towards him. She placed the straw of her drink in her mouth and sucked it provocatively, hollowing her cheeks.
She was everything he looked for in a woman. Sexually confident. Obviously open to his approach. Heels and easy-to-flip skirt.
Why, then, did his dick not register even a flicker of interest when she pulled her shoulders back, when she pushed her ample tits forward?
Fuck.
He’d left his balls behind in his apartment. With an American in baggy sweats and white trainers.
Luke took a deep breath, knowing the next step he took would be the most decisive.
Willow swung her still damp hair into a bun and padded into the living area to make a coffee on the luxury coffee maker she’d had delivered the day before. There were some compromises she was willing to make, but a decent coffee in the morning after she’d got over the whole throwing up thing was not one of them. Sure, the coffee was now decaf, some fancy Swiss Water Process to make it caffeine free, but it still tasted like coffee. Psychologically, she could pretend it was the real thing.
Perhaps she should have measured what little countertop Luke had available before ordering it, and she wondered for a moment how he’d feel about the silver-and-black device that now took up so much space. Once the coffee had brewed and she’d taken her first sip, she sighed.
It didn’t matter what Luke thought—the coffee maker was staying, because tea was gross.
Sitting at the breakfast bar, she opened her messages. There was one from Riley.
Remember that guy from 7th grade? Bryce. Was only in school for a year before he moved to Winnipeg? Turns out he moved to play hockey and just signed with the Kings. Looks HAWT!
Willow grinned and typed. Then, go get him, Tiger.
Kelly, Riley’s mom, had also sent her an email. They hoped she was okay and were worried and wanted to know if they could help, because leaving without talking to them was so unlike her.
She took a sip of the coffee, wondering how on earth to respond. They’d been her real family, while her own family had been nothing more than a business, where she was the only product. John, Riley’s dad, had been a used car salesman who’d done good. He’d worked hard, opened franchise car dealerships, scrap metal merchants, and been good with people and money. While his wealth was now mid-level Malibu, he was still a blue-collar grafter who remembered where he’d started.
Riley was embarrassed by her dad, but Willow admired him. Heck, she admired both Kelly and John. They were as in synch with each other as any two people could be. Still very much in love with each other after nearly thirty years.
She’d always said they were couple goals.