“People need to get through, ladies,” a guy around our age bellows as we block the walkway.
“Bugger off, mate. We haven’t seen our girl in forever,” Lottie yells back at him. The three of us break out in laughter.
“Okay, okay, we better move,” Stana says, her voice husky.
Lottie and I grab Stana’s bags before leading her to the car Lottie “borrowed” from her parents’ garage. Did I mention it’s a vintage BMW and Lottie is a terrible driver?
“Jesus Christ, Lottie,” Stana says, eyes wide as she looks at the car.
“It was our only option,” Lottie replies.
“Reeve’s car wasn’t an option?” Stana turns to me, questioning.
I try not to see red, thinking about Reeve. “Let’s just say Reeve and I are not on speaking terms right now.”
I told Lottie parts of what happened between the two of us, so at Stana’s question, anger overtakes her face. I didn’t have it in me to explain the whole truth, but Lottie knows he rejected me, just not the part about me sleeping with him. I don’t think I’ll ever have the guts to bring that up.
“Hop in, we’ll explain on the way,” I tell her, knowing she will also get the abridged version.
Stana’s eyebrows rise. “On the way?”
We all get into the car, a huge grin overtaking my face.
“The guys are playing at Saint Street.”
Her jaw drops. “Are you two kidding me? I’ve just been on a ten-hour plane ride and look like crap. I need to shower.”
We ignore her, having previously decided we will hear no excuses from her. I mess with the radio as Stana zips her lips from the back seat.
“Don’t worry, we wouldn’t leave you hanging,” Lottie tells Stana as she weaves in and out of the lanes.
“Let’s not die before we get there,” Stana says, to which Lottie and I laugh.
Grinning, I reach for the makeup and clothes I got for Stana before turning around and throwing it to her. “Get ready, you’ve got thirty minutes till we get there.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re outside Saint Street and Stana looks as if she’s about to be sick.
“Are you sure I look okay?” she asks as we pull up out front of the building.
Lottie replies, beating me to the punch, “You look great, can’t even tell you’ve been stuck in the back by the shitter for the past ten hours.”
I can’t keep away the giggles as Stana cringes, clearly unsure about the whole thing. Suddenly feeling bad, I reassure her.
“She’s just playing with you, Stana. You look amazing, and I think we both know that once Ali sees you again, none of that shit will matter.”
Stana nods, clearly not fully convinced.
“Now, let’s go inside. I need a drink,” Lottie says, grabbing both of us by our hands and leading us inside.
“Shit, I think we’re late,” I mutter as I eye the crowd of people, packed like a sardine tin, all to see the guys perform.
“I wanna thank you all for being here tonight.” Ali’s voice breaks through the crowd, Stana’s hand tightening in my own. “This is gonna be the final tune of the night. It’s a new one I’ve been working on, so, uh, be kind.”
I grin like the cat who got the cream as the three of us girls stand at the bottom of the stairs and Ali begins singing. Singing the song he wrote for Stana. The song that will bring everyone back together, so our crazy little family will be okay again.
After the song finishes, I know that my and Lottie’s work here is done. We’ve set the plan in motion, and now it’s up to Stana and Ali to finish it.
“I gotta say, we make a great team,” Lottie remarks.
“We should be professional matchmakers.” I scan the crowd, stopping just in time to see Ali and Stana walking toward the exit.
“Have you seen Reeve tonight?” Lottie asks, her gaze drifting around the room to no doubt find him.
“Seen him, yes, spoken to him, that is a big fat no. I just need time, I’ll get over it. I mean, I’m not the first girl to be told a guy isn’t interested in them. I’ll live,” I lie.
Lottie nods, but her eyes remain skeptical.
“Ladies, what did you think of the show?” a voice asks from behind us as Owen walks to the table.
“Great as always, Owen,” I tell him.
He looks to Lottie, a twinkle in his eye that I quickly nudge away, but Lottie cuts in.
“You seem great, but I’m not interested,” she tells him, and his eyes go wide.
Owen laughs, clearly enamored by her. “Quick and to the point, I like that. How about friendship? Interested in that?”
Despite her clear attempts, Lottie can’t hide her small smile.
The two continue to banter back and forth as my gaze drifts around the room. I spot Reeve by the bar, a petite brunette talking his ear off.
My mind flashes back to that moment all those years ago, and I have to question how I haven’t managed to move forward in the three years since that night.
“As happy as I am that Stana’s home and that we’re all here tonight, I’m truly knackered, so I’m going to head off. Can you tell Stana and Ali that I’m sorry to miss them? That is, if they even come back,” I say with a laugh, knowing full well that they might want to be alone.
Lottie turns to Owen. “Give us a second.” Taking my arm, she walks me toward the door, her gaze probing.
“You’re not leaving because of Reeve, right?”
I shake my head. “I’m over that. I just need to get home; I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She eyes me, clearly uncertain, but decides to let me go anyway.
Smiling, I step up the staircase, my hands drifting along the cold metal banister that looks as if it belongs in a 1920s underground bar.
Sighing, I push open the door and stroll home, each step on the pavement ringing out and mixing with the locals’ chatter on a weekend. Notting Hill is nothing if not vibrant.
I pass pastel-colored flats, The Blue Café, and a new Starbucks that looms across from it, threatening to ruin all the history and culture we’ve had here all these years. I walk and walk, images of my childhood racing past me in a haze, my mother hurrying after her rowdy daughter as Ali stood with my father looking on. I think of summer mornings in Portobello Market, eating anything and everything I could get my little mitts on before Mum noticed I had spent my entire allowance on pastries and Nutella crêpes. I think of everything I managed to blissfully ignore for years of my life, years since their exit.
I think about it all, and I smile.
I wake up in a sweaty daze, my mind full of images of Reeve’s body tumbling with mine in my bedsheets while I raked my nails down his back. Hell, it’s a dream I used to have for years after he rejected me that night, but this was no dream. Nope, this was a memory of the night we spent together four weeks ago. The beginning and end of the Reeve and Emilia saga. Also known as the simultaneous best and worst night of my life.
Of course there was alcohol involved, but neither of us were wasted enough to lose inhibition. No, it was pure need and desire that caused us to come together that night. It was also pure regret that caused Reeve to bolt out of my bed when he woke up. If that doesn’t destroy a girl’s confidence, I honestly don’t know what would.