Page 132 of Rough Around the Hedges

What was wrong with me that I kept her as my best friend?

Actually, those were stones best left unturned. God only knew what answers we’d find. Ignorance was bliss, after all.

“Maybe if you both just ignore the topic, you’ll end up accidentally getting married and living happily ever after because neither of you want to talk about it.”

“People don’t accidentally get married. There’s a very specific procedure including an in-person interview when you get thelicense to stop people doing dumb shit like that,” I reminded her. “So, no.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right.” Her phone buzzed, and she turned the screen towards her and groaned. “Hello… Yeah, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten.” She got up and rushed up the stairs, speaking some medical gobbledegook I wouldn’t understand in a million years.

I stayed where I was, sipping my coffee. I wasn’t letting this perfectly good caffeine go to waste, even if she was being called in to work.

This was the great thing about being self-employed.

The only person to call me in on a Sunday was me, and I was never going to do that.

I quickly poured her coffee into her Lilo and Stitch to-go cup and waited in the hallway for her. She ran down the stairs, now wearing a bra, and shoved her feet into a pair of Crocs. I handed her the cup and dangled her spare key from my pinky finger, indicating I’d lock the door behind me, and she gave me a grateful smile before disappearing through her front door saying something about a caesarean.

Hopefully, that meant I’d be getting furry baby pictures later.

I sat back down at the dining table and pulled the tablet towards me. I had no idea where she’d even found these pictures and this article about some fancy event Oliver had attended with Luke and Eleanor last night. Then again, it wasn’t as if I had a hobby of reading gossip columns.

Or even knew who anyone was.

If she’d told me this three months ago, I’d have shrugged, said “Good for them,” and gone about my business.

Now, I was torturing myself. I flipped through picture after picture of the event, full of faces I didn’t know. My heartstuttered every time I saw Oliver’s handsome face, only to squeeze painfully every time I saw a woman standing near him.

Touching him.

Smiling at him.

Being smiledatby him.

That was the worst bit. When he had a hand on their back or leant in towards them, when he smiled at them, when he gave them any kind of attention that was more than superficial.

The ugly twist of jealousy knotted in my lower stomach, and I shoved the stupid tablet away from me again. Nothing good would come of me sitting here staring at these pictures over and over. It wouldn’t change the situation we were in.

That was his home. That was where his life was. That’s what his life waslike. It was business meetings and sharp suits and shiny jewels. Fancy food and expensive liquor and charitable donations that wouldn’t so much as scratch the surface of his bank account.

Mine was nothing like it.

My business meetings happened over a cup of tea or coffee in a conservatory. My sharp suits were grass-stained shorts and t-shirts, maybe even a dress if I was feeling fancy. Jewels? Ha—as if they could be worn while gardening.

The fanciest food I ate was produce I’d grown myself, expensive liquor was a Christmas treat, and charitable donations most definitely moved the number in my bank.

We were chalk and cheese.

We had been since we met.

Even that first night, he’d been quiet and reserved where I’d been loud and free. I was the one who’d approached him. I was the one who’d eked a laugh out of him, who’d pulled him out ofhis shell. I was the one who’d suggested another drink together, then one upstairs.

None of this would have happened if I’d minded my own business that night.

A part of me wished I could turn back time. Wished I could go back to that night and make different choices—I wouldn’t take the seat at the bar next to him, I wouldn’t order another drink, and I wouldn’t speak to him.

I’d finish my drink and leave, keeping my business mine, and his business his.

That way, when he showed up at my plot and handed me a closure notice, that would be the true beginning of our relationship.

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