Page 10 of Fighting Fate
5
The weather is brightening in the lead-up to Easter. The Belgravia patisserie I’m meeting my sister and our friends at for Sunday morning brunch stares back at me at the same time as my phone vibrates in my hand. I’m partway through disowning Frank for giving Rory my number when the email notification stops me in my tracks.
Motherfucker!
As annoying as he is, I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips. My chest squeezes at the sight of his name in the sender header: Rory Knight. The name suits him, even if it pains me to admit. Seems that my head and heart are in cahoots to screw me over when it comes to him. Doesn’t matter how hard I try to get him out of my head, he’s always there, that stupid smirk mocking me even in my thoughts.
“Why are you standing out here?” Beth’s voice startles me as she slams the cab door shut and stands beside me, staring at the flower-decorated entrance.
We’ve been friends for a while, but since Dorian, my sister, and Quincy, my brother’s girlfriend, became all loved up, she’s my wingwoman.
“Had an important work call,” I part lie.
“On a Sunday morning?”
“Theatreland never sleeps.” Shrugging, I slip my phone back into my handbag and head for the door when she replies, “Yeah, all right, Pinocchio.”
A member of staff shows us to our table. We’re almost to the small room at the back of the place when Beth tells me, “If it’s that fucking douche nozzle, you better have told him where to stick it. That fucktard really boils my—”
“It’s not—”
“Oooh,” she remarks, spinning to pause in the tight hallway. “Someone new?”
Jesus, she’s a bloody nightmare with a potty mouth and the crassest sense of humour ever. But she’s also one of the nicest humans I’ve ever met, and her brain is impressive enough that Oxford didn’t turn her away from its medicine degree.
Fluffing her shoulder-length red hair, she narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t hold out on me!”
“I need coffee before your inquisitions.”
“There is someone else.”
“There isn’t.”
“Then why are you smiling?” she asks with her gaze going down to where my hand is inside my bag, gripping my buzzing phone. “Just answer it…could be important…theatreland never sleeps, after all.”
“Ugh, you’re as annoying as h—” I catch myself just in time, but Beth doesn’t miss a beat.
Falling into step beside me as we carry on to the back of the tearooms, she nudges me with her hip. “As annoying as?”
“A bloody flea.” My snap remark has her falling to bits with laughter, knowing that she got to me.
“What’s so funny?” Quincy asks, standing from her seat to greet Beth, who she brought into our little group. It used to be just me, her, and Dorian. Our mums have been friends forever, and we’ve grown up together.
“You know me, I love to tease miss moody.” Beth sits next to her, sticking her tongue out at me like a silly child.
“Where’s Dor?” I ask Quincy, kissing her on the cheek before I sit opposite Beth, leaving the seat facing Quincy free for my sister. It’s not like her to be the last one to arrive. “I thought she’d be here already.”
“Jake and Daniel had a football game this morning that she went to watch.”
“Since when has she started going to the games?”
“God, you are moody today. What the hell crawled up your butt?”
“More like who!” Beth laughs, wiggling her brows.
“Didn’t you say you’re off men?”
“Yes! And I am. She’s just being a twat.” With a hard kick under the table, I glower at Beth. It does nothing except earn me a retribution bruise to my shin. “How are the girls?” Bringing up the kids is the best deflection method I’ve found to date. It doesn’t matter what conversation we’re having, the minute the kids are brought into it, it changes path.