Page 18 of The Plan
I’m lost, utterly lost in his eyes, but eventually a ringing brings me back to reality. I look down and grab my phone from the windowsill to see Juliette’s name staring back at me. By the time I look back up again, he’s gone—disappeared, like I imagined the whole thing.
Shit, was all that in my head?
I shake my weird thoughts, swipe my phone and bring it to my ear.
“Hello?” I say, but my voice comes out all high pitched and squeaky like I’ve been caught doing something wrong.
“Adds, are you okay? You sound weird.”
I clear my throat before saying that I’m fine.
“Really, you don’t sound fine. OMG,” she squeals, “are you with a guy?”
“No, Ju, I’m not with a man.”
“Well that’s a damn shame. You could do with a good Irish man to get your engines burning. One of us might as well be able to enjoy a little easy sex with a hot man,” she says, referring to her fantasy of being one of the women she reads about in her mummy porn books.
“This is real life, not a romance novel, Ju.”
“It happens,” is all she says before changing the conversation. “What’s your new address?”
I rattle it off while continuing to stare out of the window in the hope he reappears.
“Awesome. So how’s it going over there in Leprechaun Land?”
“It’s…uh…” Blake chooses that exact moment to reappear. “Good…it’s good.”
“Hmm…something’s got you all chipper over there and I want to know what it is.”
“It’s nothing. I’m icing a cake.”
“All go on the business front then?”
“I’m not sure knocking up a few cakes classes as ‘all go’ but I’m making a start.”
Juliette and I chat about life for about twenty minutes before I get thoroughly distracted by the goings on in the garden.
“Adds…Adds…ADDISON!” gets shouted in my ear.
“What?”
“You’re not listening.”
“Yes I am. You said that you and Hugo were…uh…”
“Exactly. I rest my case. What is going on with you?”
“There’s a guy fixing the fence. He caught my attention,” I say, trying to make it sound mundane.
“What kind of guy?” If I could see Juliette, I know her eyebrows would be wiggling right now.
“Blake, Aunt Addy’s kind of unofficial son-in-law,” I say, reminding myself why this thing we have going on between us—if it evenisa thing— is a little inappropriate.
“I want a photo,” Juliette demands.
“I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will. I want to see the hottie who has you all flustered.”
