I could write a song about the smile that blossoms across Lucy’s face as she sees the packets. More than one song, in fact. Probably a whole album. She is otherworldly. And in a good way– not like me.
She takes the bag of vanilla fudge when I offer it and pops a square into her mouth, closing her eyes in delight as the flavour hits. A little rush of pride rattles through me. I’ve frequented every sweet shop in Whitby in my time, andI know for an absolute fact that the duck-egg-blue shop that I can never remember the name of does the best fudge in town. It’s better than sex.
Ok, it’salmostbetter than sex.
‘What flavour have you got?’ Lucy asks, pulling me from my sinful thoughts before I have time to fall down the rabbit hole.
‘Strawberry and cream,’ I reply, and she bursts out laughing. I raise an eyebrow.
‘I’m sorry.’ She’s trying to contain herself, but there’s a wobble of mirth in her voice. ‘It’s just… not very you.’
I raise a hand in mock offence, and pluck out a piece of my fudge with the other, brandishing it in front of her. ‘I think you’ll find that this is the colour ofbloodandbones, so…’
‘Super-goth.’ She nods solemnly.
‘Thegothest.’
We both laugh and it makes my whole body sing with delight. I feel like a teenager, like the slightest crumb of her approval or attention could send me into a soaring high. I know I need to stop this, but I can’t quite bring myself to.
‘So,’ I ask her, ‘how’s Heartbreak Bench working out for you?’
She finishes chewing and swallows, one thumb moving to brush fudge crumbs from the curve of her lower lip. My traitorous eyes track its course.
‘You were right,’ she says. ‘I do feel better now.’
My nod is as smug as hell.
‘But I do feel like there’s an imbalance here,’ she continues, brows knitted, and it makes me frown. I’m not sure if she’s serious or not.
‘How so?’
‘I mean…’ She turns the paper bag around in her hand as she thinks. ‘I’ve hadtwoemotional breakdowns now, and you’re still yet to have a single one.’
My laugh escapes as a cartoonha!‘Stick around,’ I say, unable to keep the smile off my face. ‘It’ll happen.’
She smiles too, warm and wide. My chest squeezes tight at the idea that I did this– I distracted her from that bellend Jon with my silly little bench and three quids’ worth of fudge. I mean, if he doesn’t see this beautiful, smart woman in front of his face then he’s an idiot, plain and simple. But the fact that he was kissing a married woman too? Jesus.
Suddenly the thought trips a switch in my brain, and I’m right back there, swinging my bedroom door open to find my fiancée riding Dean fucking Ratcliffe like she had a race to win. Nausea races up my throat, the familiar burn of embarrassment and betrayal swirling like a storm in my guts. I feel like I need to run. Or fight someone. Or?—
‘Bram?’
When I turn, Lucy’s looking at me with a knot of concern between her brows. The look in her eyes cuts my panic off at the knees.
‘Mhmm?’ I say, through my mouthful of unchewed fudge, willing away my spiralling thoughts.
‘I’m ready to talk about Millie now.’
Chapter Fifteen
LUCY
Bram turns to look at me with a start. I don’t know where his mind went a moment ago, but I sure as hell recognised the expression on his face. It was something I’ve felt a lot in my life.
Someone’s hurt him.
I want to help, to comfort him, but it would be too intrusive to ask what happened. I figure that he’ll tell me if he wants to, if he’s ever ready, and in the meantime, I’m going to do something that feels a little bit crazy.
I’m going to share more of myself with him.