Page 51 of The Alice Equation (The Laws of Love 1)

“I meant it.” For once he actually did, but he guessed his attitude to Oliver was like the little boy who cried wolf. When he was being genuinely nice, he was suspected of being a bastard.

“He said he was trying to catch up with you for a drink.”

Aaron thought about the stream of messages from Oliver he’d ignored all week, until finally sending a curt, “Maybe next Monday or Tuesday I could do, after work”. Which Oliver had come back to with such enthusiasm, it churned the old guilt-knife in Aaron’s gut. He even found himself wishing for a moment that he could drop the blanket of antipathy, call a truce even, but he’d held on to it for so long, he wouldn’t actually know what to put in its place.

“I’ll catch up with him early next week,” he said brusquely.

“That’s good.” Alice’s tone was clipped. They turned into her street, rows of neat little weatherboards all with containers of vegetables growing on the verge outside. Only Rowena had a lawn. And roses behind her white picket fence—a nod, she’d once told him proudly, to her English heritage.

“Hot chocolate time,” said Alice, way too chirpily as she killed the engine.

“Hot chocolate time,” Aaron repeated, wondering why his nerves felt like they’d been torched.

He’d been to Alice’s place a million times before for hot chocolate.

This time wasn’t any different, right?

Ten minutes later and thedifferentfeeling wasn’t letting up. By now Aaron had slung his jacket over a chair and was standing at the kitchen window pretending to stare at—well, nothing much—it was too dark to see anything but blobby shapes in the garden.

He said, “Are you looking after Rowena’s roses properly?”

He could hear Alice rustling around behind him. When they’d got here she’d disappeared into her bedroom and come out shortly after wearing her pink fluffy bunny slippers, which made her look like a Disney character with her bright blue dress. It also made her smaller now the heels were shed and… hellish appealing.

Which was why he had to maintain his vigil at the window.

“They don’t need much care in winter. It rains nearly every day.”

He heard her open the fridge; he didn’t need to look to know she was getting out a carton of full cream milk. Next the pantry cupboard door banged. A spoon clunked, thenclick, the drinking chocolate tin lid was prised off. In a minute she’d whip up the milk until it was thick and frothy and then she’d whisk in the chocolate, and finally sprinkle some on top.

Jesus Christ, he sounded like those domesticated couples from dinner.

A sharp stab hit him in the chest. He coughed and pumped a fist in the centre of his ribs and the feeling receded enough for him to get his breath.

“Are you okay?” Alice asked.

Suddenly he needed something much stronger than hot chocolate. “I need a drink.”

“Be patient,” Alice laughed. “It takes a little while to make it how you like it.”

“No, I mean a real drink.” He turned and propped his hips on the kitchen bench and folded his arms over his chest. “What have you got?”

“I—um, don’t want to raid Mum’s wine collection. Maybe we’ve got some spirits… somewhere…” She turned, and up on tippy-toes, foraged through a cupboard. Aaron tried not to be mesmerised by the pert spheres of her buttocks under the flimsy fabric of her dress. He was still staring when she turned triumphantly with a bottle in her hand.

Flicking his gaze to the label, he grinned with relief. “Ah. Good one. Tequila.”

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