Page 34 of Falling For Liam
“You were right about him, you know.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s a bit of a softie.”
“You’ve no idea,” she mutters, but I’m distracted from asking what she means when a giant glass of wine appears in front of my face.
“What did you bring to wear?” Nic asks while rummaging through her wardrobe.
“A playsuit. Is that okay?”
“Let’s see.”
I pull my pinstriped playsuit from the bag, and Nicole eyes it up and down before nodding, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Perfect. Shoes?”
“You need to ask?” I pull the same pair of black heels from my bag that I wore for her engagement party.
Nic lets out a laugh at the sight of them. “Do you ever wear any others?”
“Nope. I’m screwed when I wear these out. I went to buy a second pair but they’d been discontinued.”
Two hours and a bottle and a bit of wine later, we’re both ready to take the town by storm. Nic applied my make up with incredible precision. My eyeliner flicks are epic, and my hair is perfectly curled around my shoulders. I can’t help but smile as I look in her full-length mirror. It feels like forever since I’ve seen this version of myself staring back at me. My eyes look brighter than they have in a long time and my skin has a healthy glow. I’ve had this playsuit since last summer, but although I loved it the moment I saw it, I never had anywhere to wear it. But the second my eyes landed on it while Liam’s stare burned into my back, I knew it was the one—the one to make me feel normal again, if only for one night. Tonight isn’t going to be about what I left behind in Cardiff; it’s about my new life, and I need to feel good about myself once again. I’m not interested in pulling, but the thought of turning a couple of heads does have excitement bubbling in my belly. I feel like I’ve been invisible for so long that I can’t help it. There might only be one guy’s eyes I really want on me, but a huge part of me needs to know that my scars aren’t visible, that everything I’ve been through isn’t written all over my skin.
“Ready?” Nic asks. Her eyes bright and her smile wide. She’s no idea really, but I don’t think I could have done any of this without her.
“I am. Thank you.”
“What for?”
“Everything.” I don’t go into any more detail, too afraid it’ll end with me ruining my make-up, but Nic nods in understanding. She’s been there for me throughout everything, even when she had no clue what she was supporting me through. I hadn’t told anyone else there was anything wrong with my life. They still have no idea. A rush of guilt races through me that I haven’t told any of my family that I’ve left Cardiff. I know I need to ring my parents, and I will…soon. I don’t want to lie to them, but I also don’t want to tell them the truth. Mum can be a little…overbearing, and the last thing I need is her turning up to mollycoddle me and demand I move back up north with them. I shudder at the thought.
My legs feel a little wobbly as I follow Nic down the stairs and out to the awaiting taxi.
“Couldn’t we have just walked?” I ask, assuming she was taking me to the pub around the corner.
Instead of answering me, she tells the driver our destination and he pulls away from the curb.
“What?” I ask, seeing a weird look in Nic’s eyes.
“Nothing. I think I just had too much wine on an empty stomach.”
“Hmm…” I hum, not believing a word of it. “This isn’t just a pub, Nic. Why are we here?”
When we get out of the taxi, we’re stood in front of a very flash restaurant overlooking the sea beyond. It looks incredibly expensive and a little too romantic and intimate for two friends to have dinner.
“I wanted to treat you. Come on.” Threading her arm through mine, she walks us through the entrance and up to the maître d’.
“Good evening, ladies.”
“Evening. We’ve got a table booked under Nicole.”
“Of course. This way, please,” he says, after checking the computer screen in front of him.
As we walk through the half-full restaurant, candlelight flickers from each table and happy couples stare at each other lovingly. My confusion disappears as a waiter walks in front of me with the most stunning meals in his hands. My mouth waters and my stomach grumbles. My previous question dies and I continue to walk to the other side of the restaurant where the maître d’ seats us in a quiet corner. I’m kind of relieved to be away from all the cosy couples; they’re only a harsh reminder of my failed relationship.
“The food here is incredible,” Nic says, clearly sensing my unease once we’re alone. “Are you okay for a minute? I just need to run to the loo. If the waiter comes, get me a glass of pinot, yeah?”
