‘Isn’t Pastel the reporter?’ she asks, voice dropped. ‘Who’s currently writing a story on you?’
I frown. ‘Yes.’ I’m not completely sure why we couldn’t have this conversation inside. It makes me feel like I’m in trouble. ‘I mean, not just on me. She’s writing about the whole weekend.’
‘And are we sure that this is a good plan?’ she continues, a small crease forming between her brows. ‘’Cause to me it feels like… not a good plan.’
I shrug, immediately defensive. ‘I know how it looks, but?—’
‘I’m not judging, man,’ she says, more softly this time, and it’s then that I recognise the expression on her face. It’s concernforme, notaboutme. She’s got my back. ‘I’m just trying to stop you from getting any more bad press.’
I soften. ‘It’s not like that.’
Her mouth twists to the side, sceptical. ‘Bram?—’
‘Ilikeher, Sam.’
She looks shocked by my admission. I’m a little shocked myself. I think we both realise at the same time that this is thefirst time I’ve actually liked anyone since Jess. The first time I’ve liked anyone since my change.
Which feels… kind of monumental.
Significant, at least.
It’s a moment or two before she speaks again. ‘Just be careful,’ she says eventually, her brow still creased. ‘Because of the media thing, and also because of, you know.’
‘You know?’
She huffs out an exasperated breath. ‘Don’t make me say it.’
I try to hide my grin as I shrug innocently. Sammi’s an all-business kind of girl. Any talk of emotions usually makes her run for the hills.
‘Because of your heart, you idiot,’ she blurts, a blush darkening her cheeks, but then a smile breaks through her awkwardness. ‘Heartbroken Bram was a real downer.’
‘I’m sorry that my inner torment was uncomfortable for you,’ I deadpan, and she fixes a glare at me. I can’t help but laugh.
‘Ok, I’m sorry.’ I drop the smile, and I’m deadly serious when I say, ‘I promise I’ll be careful.’
She doesn’t say anything for a while, and I could swear I see the tiniest hint of tears in her eyes. It makes me grateful as hell that I have this lot in my life– they’ve all loved the hell out of me, even when I really didn’t deserve it.
‘Good,’ Sammi says, and while there’s a definite tug to her voice as she does, she soon shakes it off. ‘Now let’s get our shit together and go put on a show. When’s the band getting here?’
I chuckle. She’s back to business in the blink of an eye. ‘Around five.’
Sammi nods. ‘And our special guest?’
‘Same.’ I check my phone in case there’s been an update from Elias, but my lock screen is clear. I’m going to say no news is good news.
‘Great,’ Sammi says, with a glint in her eyes. ‘You ready to cause a stir for all the right reasons?’
Chapter Twenty-Three
LUCY
I’m strangely nervous when I knock on the door of the cottage. I don’t even know why. But my nerves soon dissipate into little more than a distant hum of anxiety as Peggy opens the door and sweeps me into a warm hug.
She looks amazing. She’s styled her scarlet hair into some kind of Elizabethan updo, with tendrils curling around her face, while the black of her dress is reflected in her expertly winged eyeliner. The dress itself is like some kind of museum exhibit, with a corseted top that pulls her in at the waist before the fabric billows into a bustle at her hips. She’d look like a Victorian gentlewoman in mourning if it weren’t for the patent platform boots she’s wearing, which are accented with enough metal to sink a ship.
‘You like?’ she asks as she catches me staring, and she backs off a little way so she can do a twirl, the gauzy fabric of her skirt floating upwards as she does.
I nod effusively. ‘I feel underdressed,’ I say. I’m suddenly self-conscious in my lilac denim pencil skirt and lime-green and white striped jumper, but Peggy waves me away.