“My godson will play for Rangers,” I insisted.
“I hope for your sake you have a wee girl and we can take her to ballet and gymnastics,” Lacey said.
“Fuck that, she’s going to Hogwarts,” said Olivia, patting her flat belly.
We all laughed and raised our drinks.
Lacey stood to make the toast. “To Hogwarts in just under twelve years’ time.”
Chapter 8
Lacey
“WHAT’S THE PLAN THIS evening?” I asked Olivia, as I met her for a burger in McDonalds in Anniesland, about a mile from where I lived.
I had driven there since she’d asked if I could give her a lift to the cake testing in a town a few miles out of the city. Olivia was still very much a student at heart. She’d dyed her natural brown hair black with pink highlights; wore copious amounts of black liquid eyeliner, too pale a foundation, and sported eyebrow and lip rings; and she worked in a small independent chain of bakeries. “Mrs Grodzicki is keeping the shop in Paisley open late. We’re meeting David and Rory there to taste cakes and decide which one she’s going to donate to the reception as our wedding present.” She grinned.
“Okaaaay ... but Rory must have a car, so why do you need me?”
Her mouth fell open, then she closed it. Hurt flashed through her gaze. “You like cake. I want you to be part of organising my wedding.”
“Number eighty-six,” called the young girl behind the counter.
“That’s me,” I muttered and hurried away to collect my order. When I returned, Olivia frowned over her Big Mac as she munched into it. I ignored her as I stuck my straw into my drink and unwrapped my sandwich.
“I need ketchup,” I said.
“Got you some,” she said, holding out a sachet. “Look, Lace ...”
“Don’t call me that. Only Rory called me that.”
She sat back and sighed. “It’s been six years—six fucking years. You see him once and we’re back to this?”
“Back to what?” I hissed.
“Moping and brooding. Are you going to start screwing half of Glasgow again too?”
I rolled my eyes. “Hardly.”
“Look, he’s a grown up. You were kids when you were together before.”
“He was twenty-five when he dumped me. That’s not a kid, it’s a grown-assed man.”
“You know guys take longer to mature than women.”
I picked at the wrapper of my sandwich, not meeting her gaze. “Rubbish. There are guys who are great fathers at that age. Men who are happily married. He was a goddamn teacher with responsibilities.”
“Sure, but he wasn’t ready for that step yet.”
“He’s a dick. He’ll never be ready for that step.” I took another bite of my sandwich.
“He’s maturing. He’s applying for Head of Department jobs. His career is on track and he’s happy. He needs someone special in his life.”
“I can assure you, that someone special, isn’t going to be me. Can we stop talking about this?”
She nodded and took another big bite of her sandwich.
WHEN OLIVIA AND I WALKED into the bakery, David and Rory were already there. Large photos of what the finished cakes would look like rested on the table next to each sample of cake. Rory, who had a terrible sweet tooth, was grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey,” he said, his gaze roaming up and down my body.
“It seems all your Christmases have come at once,” I said.
“This is nirvana for me.”
“I remember.”
He leaned in close. “What else do you remember, Lacey?”
A shiver ran through me. However, I needed to stay strong. This man broke me, and I wouldn’t let it happen again. “I remember you walking away from my car that night without even looking back.”
He grimaced. “I was a dickhead.”
“Yes, you were.”
Mrs Grodzicki bustled into the room, nodding a greeting to me and Olivia. She handed us each a plate for us to taste the cake. “This is the lemon.”
I scooped up a small forkful and lifted it to my lips. The second the light and airy sponge touched my tongue, tingles of lemon burst in my mouth, not too sour or sweet. My moan was almost obscene, and Rory raised an eyebrow.
“What?” I asked. “It’s nice.”
“Nothing. It’s just you used to make that noise when I put my tongue on your ...”
“Shhh!”
His smile was wicked, and he slid a mouthful of cake between his lips. “It is delicious ...just like your pussy.”
I tried to ignore him and focus on the cake, but as each sweet treat was given to us, his noises became sexier and more profane. At first they turned me on, then they made me giggle, and by the end, I was struggling not to pee myself laughing. I’d forgotten what good company he was.
“The red velvet is the best, and the chocolate is the second best. If you want to go more traditional, lemon drizzle would be a hit,” he told Olivia.
I nodded my agreement. “The man knows his cakes.”
“I know everything beginning with c,” said Rory.
No doubt, with his filthy mind, he meant something sexual, but I feigned ignorance. “You mean chats, chiens, châteaux.”
“I see your French accent hasn’t improved.”
“But my French kissing has,” I sniped.
“You can’t be the judge of a skill like that. Only someone who has kissed you in the past can judge.”
“Hmm, I need to ask my mum if Anthony is still working in the local grocers. He was the first boy I French kissed. He can tell me if I improved.” I sat back slightly, and raised an eyebrow, satisfied I’d bested him.
“I can assure you, you improved in the six years you were with me. That tongue became wicked—in more ways than one.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips.
I was glad everyone else was ignoring us and discussing cakes. I shook my head, hoping he didn’t notice my involuntary shudder as memories of using my tongue all over his lean body flooded my mind. He’d been athletic at university, playing for the university’s field hockey team. He’d even kept it up after university, finding a men’s team in Glasgow. It was how he and David had connected since they’d been on different courses. He’d even been in with a chance of playing in the Scottish national team, except a ligament injury stopped him playing that year. Poor thing had been frustrated as hell, and looking back, that was the year it all started going south in our relationship.
“Do you still play hockey?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Not with my tongue.”
I giggled. “Sorry, I was thinking of something else.”
“Care to share.”
Heat suffused my cheeks.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“I see.” He pointed at my face and circled his finger, gesturing to it all. “You have your ‘I’ve been caught thinking naughty thoughts’ look on your face. I can live with that.”
I pursed my lips and scowled. “I do not.”
“Lacey, honey, you haven’t changed at all. I can read you like a book.”