Page 18 of Sleep

“Although he insisted he was aware of…what did he call it? My ‘sizeable package’.”

“Oh. Nice touch, wording it like that. Very flattering.”

“Not really. Kind of…weird.”

“They always are, the straights.”

“No slut-shaming the straights. They can’t help it.”

“Mabel!”

Yeah, I could talk Bruce as well as the real Bruce.

“Miss Adeline would have had a ball with this guy. And I’m absolutely not going to introduce you because this guy would break. Miss Adeline is a force. One too strong for my poor diner.”

“Your poor diner. Who’s slut-shaming who now, eh? I’m starting to suspect my Mabel may hold a torch for this…diner.”

“No torch. And Miss Adeline needs to hold her tongue.”

“You’re always going to be my princess, my darling Mabel. I know I tease, and my apologies, but you are, and always will be, exactly who you are. And this was indeed a juicy morsel of the finest gossip. Miss Adeline is most pleased. A crush on a diner. My poor heart!”

“Oh, shut up, Bruce.” It wasn’t like that. Honestly. Well. Maybe.

Jonathan Templar was…a friend. I liked him. Liked how he looked at me. It was different. Warm. A handsome man who paid me attention.

And there I went again. Good grief, Mabel!

“Serious talk, though,” Bruce interrupted. “For once, listen.”

“What?” I already dreaded what would come out of his mouth next.

“How’s Mark?”

“Mark’s fine. Being a bitch as usual.”

“Mabel?”

I stopped what I was doing and let my hands fall onto my lap. Deep breath. Bruce never called me Mabel. Apart from when he was telling me the hard truth. Truth I refused to take in.

“That boy was trouble from the first moment he stepped over the threshold. Too handsome for his own good. Too troubled. Too much for anyone to handle. I told you back then, and I am telling you now. How many years has it been?”

“Twenty. Give or take a few,” I mumbled in defeat.

“Twenty. And here we still are. The same words coming out of an old man’s mouth. And you still won’t listen or take my advice.”

“I know,” I said. “I do know.”

“Then maybe for once, put yourself first. Find your own happiness away from the guy who’s draining it all from your very soul.”

“That’s far too dramatic. He’s a mate. A colleague. My friend.”

“The guy you have loved, with every inch of who you are, for years, Mabel. Years! It’s tragic. And you know how much I hate a tragedy.”

“I’m not a tragedy.”

“You are, my dear. A terrible tragedy. So perhaps this time, listen to good old Bruce. Get the fuck out of Mark’s way and let the world in. Because if you just tried letting him go, then I think—”

“None of your business.” My usual comeback. Bruce tutted.

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