Page 108 of The Wedding Pact
Here he was, this man who had barrelled into her life over a spilt cup of coffee, and become her friend, her confidant, her flatmate and her fake husband. He was warm, from his kisses to his soul, and more than anything she wanted him to be happy.
The room was dark, but not pitch black, the daylight straining to find its way through the closed curtains. ‘Flynn?’ she whispered again, lying down next to him. ‘You need to wake up or you’ll never sleep tonight.’
He murmured, a smile flittering across his mouth, and without opening his eyes he draped an arm over her. ‘Jet lag is winning,’ he said, his voice sleepy.
‘It sure is. Do you want to wake up?’
In the gloom, his eyelashes fluttered, and then he was looking at her, next to him, their breathing synced. Flynn’s hand moved to her arm and he rested it there. She should move. If she didn’t want anything to happen between them, she should move right now, because all signs pointed to him thinking about kissing her. August didn’t move.
But after an eternity of holding in the moment, Flynn exhaled, and dropped his hand. ‘Okay, I’m awake,’ he whispered, and he smiled, rubbing his eyes.
‘Good,’ August rolled onto her back and watched the ceiling for a second, composing herself. ‘The neighbours will be over in a couple of hours, I’ve got everything we need – wine, cake, crisps.’
‘Thanks, Aug.’
‘No problem. Consider it a really lame welcome home party.’
Up until their guests arrived, bang on 5 p.m., August and Flynn shuffled around each other, polite, a little confused, very much in need of a good heart-to-heart once this was out the way.
Allen and Maud arrived first, full of chit-chat and wanting to know all about Flynn’s trip to Japan. Callie and her mum came shortly afterwards, and though Callie gave August a slightly guarded look, she whispered, ‘Sorry for storming out yesterday, hon, we’ll have a catch up when we can and you can tell me anything that’s been bothering you. Maybe over a yoga mat, okay?’
August nodded, pleased that Callie wasn’t furious, but more determined than ever to admit the truth to her.
Flynn was about to serve up the rest of the cake – he too was clearly hoping for a short and sweet neighbour get together this evening – when someone mentioned Mrs Haverley.
‘Mrs H, of course!’ August stood up. ‘I was going to take her up a piece of cake because she’s not been well. Shall I pop up now?’
‘That’s a nice idea,’ Maud said. ‘Flynn, you go with her and say hello and we’ll pour another round of wines.’
August and Flynn nipped up the stairs armed with a glass of red and a slab of cake. They delivered it to Mrs H, who was in a chair in the living room, trying to figure out how to turn offLove Island, which she claimed not to actually be watching, on her newly installed Netflix. She was on her own, as Abe was out picking her up some medical supplies from the Boots in town. August and Flynn stayed a few minutes, helping her switch off Netflix, and showing her how to switch it back on again, should she change her mind, before leaving to return downstairs to their guests.
From the staircase, August could see their door was open, though she was sure Flynn had closed it on his way out.
She heard voices as they descended, so the neighbours hadn’t left …
Then August heard one voice she hadn’t expected, and it turned her to stone, icy air washing over her like the February frost had been let right into the building and found its way to her feet, legs, arms and heart.
August gripped Flynn’s arm and he came to a stop beside her, and they met each other’s eyes.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
This couldn’t be happening, August thought, frozen on the staircase.She never justpopped over.
The voice rang out louder, a dominating annoyance the vocal equivalent of stamping one’s foot:
‘I think I would know and I can assure you, my daughter isnot married.’
August took off, jumping the rest of the stairs two at a time, and skidded into her flat with Flynn right behind her. Standing there in a huddle in front of one of their framed, fake wedding photos was Mrs Anderson, August’s mum, her smart coat still buttoned up, her gloves in her hand, and her lips pursed together.
‘August Anderson, what is going on?’ her mum demanded, facing her daughter. ‘It can’t be true. Can it? I’ve told them you’re not married. That you would have told me, but … ’
All of them faced her: Allen, Maud, Callie’s mum, Callie.
‘What are you doing here, Mum?’ August asked, her heart thudding in her chest.
‘You’re always telling me to pop over, I had an appointment in Bath, and since I knew your flatmate was away, I thought we could have dinner together. Or should I say yourhusband, according to the photo I saw as soon as your friends let me in?’
‘It’s, um—’ Flynn started, but he was as lost for words as August, and they both stood there with mouths opening and closing like a couple of fish out of water. August moved her eyes to Callie, who shook her head and turned her gaze away.
