Chapter 25

Jamie

I'd had a couple of glasses of wine, but I emerged from under the covers the next morning with a throbbing head, just like a hangover. I shuffled down the hallway and into the bathroom, and it took a long, hot shower to make me feel more human. When I went to go and grab coffee to complete the revival process, I found I had someone waiting for me. A tentative knock, that had me sighing and then walking to the front door to find an abashed Millie standing there.

"Here." Coffee, sweet coffee, was shoved my way and I accepted it instinctively. "I've got croissants as well." She held up a paper bag and I sighed after taking a sip.

"Nutella ones?" I asked.

"What the hell do you take me for? Of course they're Nutella ones, now let me in. You know we're going to talk through this, so let's make a start."

I stared at her for a second, wanting to be mad, sad, frustrated, but instead, when she smiled, I did too. It might've been a grudging one, but it was there. We'd been best friends for most of my life and that wasn't going to stop now.

"The McDonald phone tree was activated last night, was it?" I asked as we both walked into my kitchen.

She grabbed a plate and tore open the bag, placing each pastry on it before offering me one. Part of me wanted to be wary of McDonalds bearing food, but the smell was way too enticing. I picked one up and took a bite, waiting for an answer.

"Hunter wanted to come around here and make sure you got home OK, but I told him not to. If you ran…" She shot me a rueful smile. "Chasing you wasn't going to help. Then Brock called me…" Her wince told me exactly what I needed to know. I'd seen him on the warpath, so I knew what she'd got on the other end of the phone line. "Then obviously they filled Hayden in… Actually, fuck that."

Her hands went to her hips.

"Fuck them and fuck me. In my head, you all knew." She shot me a meaningful look. "It was so damn obvious you were all into each other that Mum and Dad started a betting pool on which one of them would say something first."

"Your parents…?" I backed up until my butt hit the kitchen counter.

"I thought I was giving you a little push. Remember when you were really into Derek in Year 9?"

"Ugh…"

My first boyfriend was the yardstick by which all other men were judged, though not because he was an amazing guy. For a fifteen-year-old, he was doing his damndest to live up to the bad boy label he'd been given.

"And I had a word with him for you."

"Yeah, and then I had six months of being ignored or pressured for sex, him going and getting it from other girls when I wouldn't put out," I replied.

"And you would never have found out what a douchebag he was without a push. Instead, you'd have spent all that time writing his name and yours in your journals and sighing every time he walked past."

"So all this elaborate plotting was just Derek all over again?" I asked, my brow jerking up.

"It's me fucking up." She threw her hands wide and then took a step closer. "In my mind, it would all work out." We both snorted at that, remembering all the other times she made that assumption erroneously. "You'd decide which one of those idiots you could tolerate and then fall into his arms, and you'd be happy and he'd be happy, and then there'd be a whole lot of bumping uglies that you would promise to never ever talk about with me. Brock would chill the fuck out, or Hayden would stop being a sad sack, and Hunt… he'd stop being all stoic and shit, and you'd…" She was my best friend, that hit me hard right now as her eyes started to shine, her smile watery. "Then you'd be happy. You'd marry one of my brothers and be my sister legally, not just here."

That thump of her fist against her chest cracked something inside me. All the cold, still calm was chipped away, leaving something raw and throbbing.

"So all this was just a dastardly attempt to get me married?" I croaked. "You know I don't do weddings."

"Domestic partnership, then," she said, laughing despite the fact a tear rolled free. "De facto. Common-law wife. Life partner." Her hand went to my shoulder. "You'd be a McDonald for real, not a stinky Kingston any more. I figured if the guys pissed you off, I'd kick their arses for you. I still can, you know."

"OK, OK, I get it." When her arms wrapped around me, I hugged her right back. "You'd do anything to try and even up the numbers of girls to boys in your family."

"I need a girl squad for when we play Monopoly. Those guys are freaking brutal." She pulled back and then stared into my eyes. "Seriously though, I fucked up. I know you hate surprises, and this? It was always going to freak you out. No more meddling, OK?" I looked at her in disbelief. "Fine, only meddling with your consent."

"I am making a blanket refusal of all current and future meddling," I replied.

"So you're gonna be alone for the rest of your life." She sighed and settled against the counter. "Have you got your cats picked out? I see all those cute Maine Coons on social media, though ragdolls are supposed to be just lovely."

"You first, spinster girl," I said, nudging her ribs. That earned me a jab back, the two of us devolving into some stupid squabble, right up until the point we heard another knock on the door.

"What the fuck…?" I froze in my kitchen, as if whoever was behind the door could see us. "That'll be Mum." I grabbed my phone and powered it on, seeing call after missed call. "She expected to see me at brunch and I hung up on her."

"Hung up on Majorie? Damn girl!" She held out her hand for me to high five. "Look at you with your shiny new spine."

"Not so bloody shiny," I hissed as I scrolled through all the messages. "Shit, she's gonna ream me out for hours after this."

Another knock at the door seemed to confirm this.

"We can pretend we're not here," Millie whispered, but it was far too late for that. "Or I can answer it and say you're in the shower getting ready." I shot her a dark look. Feeling modest about my own body would not stop my mother from storming into the bathroom. "Or having a shit?"

Nope. I squared my shoulders, remembering how I'd felt when I hung up. Upset, confused, stressed but also relieved. I'd established boundaries, even if it was just the once, and that meant I could do it again. I strode over to the front door, jerking it open to find it wasn't my family standing there.

Just Brock.

The way the skin around his eyes was creased in a half squint was all too familiar. It was the look he wore when he knew shit was going down and rather than lose it, he'd deal with it calmly. I was the shit going down. My feet shuffled against the floor, and then I stood tall, taking him in. Not in his usual uniform of old, worn jeans and a flannel shirt, he wore a pair of freaking slacks and a nice button-up shirt, the white in contrast to his deeply tanned skin.

"Looking good, brother." Millie looked him up and down. "What's the occasion?"

"I got a call from a Majorie Kingston on the garage emergency line last night," he said. My cheeks reddened, getting hotter by the second. "She had an emergency, just not a mechanical one. Apparently she thought I was some prick who refused to commit to her amazing daughter."

"She didn't…"

"Once I managed to calm her down, I worked out what had happened. You told her we'd broken up," he said, his voice perfectly even, which just made this worse.

"Seemed the best way to deal with imaginary boyfriends."

"But I'm not imaginary." He stepped forward, taking my hand in his and giving it a squeeze. "I'm right here." He was so close I could feel the heat of his body on my skin, the brush of his shirt. "And you said you needed someone to be a buffer between your mother and you. I understand why now, because damn… I thought she was going to reach through the phone and tear my head off for rejecting you."

I let out a shuddering sigh, forcing my eyes up to meet his.

"I'm sorry. She shouldn't have?—"

His hand went to my jaw, his thumb resting on my lips, silencing me. Those amber eyes gazed into mine, forcing me to see the quiet amusement there, along with strength for days. It was why I'd always trusted him in the past, with my training, with my career.

"She doesn't matter. You do. You needed help and you know I'll always be there when you need it. Always. Even if…" His lips twitched. "We've broken up. Now, your parents are expecting us at a place by the beach in about an hour. Did you want to get dressed and go, or do I invent a work emergency to get you out of it?"

Typical bloody Brock, brushing past all the emotional bullshit and cutting to what needed to be done. Millie raised an eyebrow in question when I looked her way.

"Nothing's changed. You, stop meddling." I pointed at her and she nodded emphatically. "And you…" My determination faltered in the face of his even gaze. "This is still fake. Once the engagement party is over, we go back to the way things were, right?"

"Fake for you." He shifted slightly. "I'm sorry we kept shit from you and I won't do it again, but you need to know it's only ever going to be fake for you. That doesn't have to mean anything at all, not unless your feelings change, so get dressed. I don't want to create a bad impression by turning up late."

"So are we good?" Millie asked me, walking into my bedroom as I clawed through my clothes, looking for something smart but casual enough for brunch at a nice cafe.

"All part of hanging around you McDonalds right?" I asked, drawing out a pair of light-grey, tailored shorts and then grabbing a linen shirt off a hanger. "You're all so damn bossy."

"Because we care about you." Her hand slapped down on my shoulder, holding me still. "Remember that whenever we piss you off. We might not do it right, but whatever we're doing, it's because we care."

"Care about me with my consent," I replied. "That's the way we do this going forward. If you think you know better than me, stop and talk to me."

"So you're giving me permission to tell you what you should be doing?" Her grin was wicked as she plucked the shorts from my hands and then tossed them back into my wardrobe before pulling out a tan pair and some leather sandals. "You got it."

I was cursing her out all the way to the front door, stopping only to grab a Nutella croissant. Millie smacked my hand away, then put the pastries into the fridge for later.

"You're wearing a white shirt, which means you'll get Nutella on it in four point five seconds. Wait until you're at the cafe to spill something on it."

I shot her a dark look, but it was true. White shirts lived a short but amazing life in my wardrobe.

"Ready?"

Brock held out his hand and I just stared at it for a second. Fake, it's all fake , I thought, as I grabbed it and let him escort me to brunch.