Page 1 of Forever Not Yours

Isometimes thought my entire existence had been a love letter to the man in front of me, which was a ridiculous thing to even consider,knowing that I’d first met him when we’d been barely eighteen. University and all that.

Youth. What a crazy time that had been.

Still, I felt like I had known Bastien Dewaert my whole life. I’d seen him at his very best, the most confident of charmers. I’d also seen him at his lowest, when he’d believed everything around him had crumbled. The loss of his grandparents. Heartbreak. Failed exams. Years of studies that looked like they would have been for nothing.

I knew how he’d felt in every single one of those moments because I’d felt exactly the same. His highs had been my highs. His lows? The worst memories of my life.

Yet here we were. Life truly was ridiculous, because this love letter of mine to Bastien? It was a constant narrative at the back of my mind, where I would stare at him and wonder if I was truly blessed or a massive idiot.

Right now, I felt like the latter.

We hadn’t seen each other for months, which was fairly normal for two grown-up professionals. We both lived in London, a few Tube stops apart, but thatdidn’t matter. We’d made time in the past. Caught up. But life always had other plans.

For me, that included taking on a new practice, and I’d barely had the time to do my own laundry in the past months. For Bastien, this year, like the last, had included Juliet. And a marriage proposal.

Add to that a yappy little dog, constant house hunting and this clusterfuck of a stag-do. Yes. My life had been a walk in the park this year. Bastien’s? God knows what the man was thinking. Currently, he was sporting a white veil, a tiara and a bit of a black eye from an earlier encounter with a lamppost, and he was dancing, shirtless, I might add, on top of the bar in the incredibly dull Scottish venue we were in. A bar slash pub slash budget hotel in Edinburgh. City of all that history.

Chest glistening with sweat, that blonde mop of hair swaying to the music, eyes closed as his body shook with the beat, he lost the stupid headgear as he twirled around, the white fabric floating to the ground behind him as he just laughed. And, of course, his insulin pump and infusion site were neatly strapped down with surgical tape. I’d helped himearlier, ensuring everything would stay in place. To others, with everything he was, he might have been quite a sight. To me, he was just Bastien, and I would, as always, cross my arms and watch him until he fell off the goddamn bar. Then I would have to find his shirt, sober him up and drag him home.

Nothing ever changed, did it?

The place stank of stale beer and urine and was full of mediocre drunks, overpriced fast food tempting the patrons from across the road, just like the suburbs of London. I wondered why we’d even bothered with the flights and hotel and all that jazz. We might as well have stayed at home.

At least in this hovel of a bar, we could crawl straight back up the purple carpet at the end of the lobby and fall head first into our room at the end of the night.

I was going to crawl back up there very shortly, because this? This was one hundred percent up there with one of the worst nights of my life.

I hated pubs, clubs, all the cheap and nasty places like this.

I hated Bastien’s stuck-up friends from the finance industry. That Kieron with his annoying voice and theway he looked down at me, despite me towering over his wanky arse. I hated Sanjit and Anil and Oliver and Will.

The constant streams of texts from Juliet. Man, I hated those.

Yes, because I wasthatfriend. Good old reliable Jakey. In control. Solid. Dependable. Organiser of events. Passer-on of relevant information. In charge of ensuring Bastien was behaving himself, and that there were no strippers, and had he checked his insulin pump? Yes, he had. No, there were no strippers. His behaviour? Well…

I was also the designated keeper of secrets.

I wasn’t going to tell Juliet about the inebriated gaggle of women currently smoothing their hands up and down Bastien’s sweaty chest. Nor was I going to relay his current state or the fact that he was being an absolute twat letting those girls write their phone numbers on his arm.For fuck’s sake, Bastien.

He was a handsome bastard, though. His messy blonde hair was always a little too long. His body, lean and trim, glowed with a recent dose of fake tan. We had a wedding coming up, remember? Two weeks, tobe exact. He had a suit. I had a suit—one I had been forcibly fitted for under Juliet’s watchful eye.

I wasn’t painting her in a very good light here, and the truth was that Juliet was a lovely human being. She was kind and extremely good for Bastien, kept him in check and fed and under control—things that had, in the past, been my responsibility.

Another way I had been replaced in his life.

I’d once been the centre of his world. Like he had been mine.

Now I was skirting around the perimeter, brought out when required formy excellent skills in the support department. Juliet’s words, and ones I actually agreed with. Best friend, relegated to the sideline in favour of married life and a future with a house in the suburbs, that goddamn dog and there had been murmurs of pregnancy tests.

All things that made me shudder to the bone.

Out of the things I hated about this night, the top of the list was staring me right in the face.

Bastien.

“Jakey,” he half slurred, his breath smelling of something sweet. I hated when he drank. “It’s diet tonic. Chill.”

Right. I didn’t drink much myself—another trait of having been Bastien’s best friend most of my adult life. He had a tendency to go a bit wild when he shouldn’t, so I didn’t. Hence, the two of us together was a good combination that usually created enough drama and laughter for a decent night out.

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