“No, I’m not ashamed.”
“Good,” he says. “Gerwyn can be a self-righteous prick sometimes, but he can damn well keep his nose out of our business, and he will do. It’s my house, not his.”
My house. Not our house.
Ant doesn’t open the car door for me this time, just gets out and unloads the cases. I follow him up to the house, and my heart thumps all over again.
I can’t deny it to myself. Whether it’s shame, or embarrassment, or not wanting a friend like Gerwyn to see me in that position, I don’t know, but I’d rather Ant called the evening off and settled for a night of easy celebrations.
If only I had the strength of my resolve to tell him so.
Ant opens the door and I get another slammer of shock, because it’s just like Mum and Dad’s place. Gerwyn has it decked out in balloons and banners. I get an absolute rush of happiness as I see him dash over to join us, his face lit up in his happy smile as he chuckles.
“Surprise! Here’s to the happy couple! Hip hip hooray!”
On instinct I close the distance and hug him, tight. On instinct I don’t want to let him go. On instinct I want to hole up with pizza and chatter and another round of Dirty Dancing and easy laughter.
On instinct I need a friend. My Friend. Our friend.
I need Gerwyn.
It seems Ant doesn’t, though. He gives him a cursory smile with a you’re home early.
Gerwyn chuckles. “Um, yes. My best friend’s getting married, I thought that was worth flying home a day early to celebrate.” I love the humour in his sarcasm. “Don’t get too excited, but I’ve got you a cake in the kitchen. Surprise!”
“Should have checked with us first,” Ant tells him, clearly unimpressed by his efforts. “We have plans.”
Gerwyn looks pissed off at himself.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t realise. My bad.” He looks at the balloons all around. “I can take these down and leave you to it. I’ll head up to my room and get cracking on reporting ready for tomorrow. No problem whatsoever.”
It’s then that Ant smirks at him, with that dirty glint back in his eyes, and it gives me shivers to see just how easy he is with it as he laughs and hangs his coat up.
“You probably will want to hole up in your bedroom, Ger. We have visitors coming. Best get up and on it before they arrive. No need to take down the balloons, though. I’ll give the guys a celebratory leaving present once they’ve taken their fill. Maybe we’ll even dish out some cake in the aftermath.”
I feel sick all over again and can barely look at Gerwyn.
“You’re having guests in the mattress room?” Gerwyn asks.
I hate that term coming from his mouth. It sounds so different spoken by him.
“Yeah, we’ll have guests coming in the mattress room.” Ant laughs with a sneer. “Literally.”
I feel so awkward as Gerwyn looks at me. Fuck, I feel like a slutty piece of shit as his eyes meet mine.
But he doesn’t judge me. There is no coldness, or disgust, or even a hint of disapproval in his stare.
“Ok,” he says. “I’d better leave you to it. Help yourself to cake, Cass.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “I really appreciate it. Great to have you home.”
“You, too,” he says, already ascending the staircase. “Congratulations to both of you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
I watch him take every step upstairs, fighting the urge to call him back to have a piece of cake with us, because I don’t want to be spending the evening with a load of strangers who want to fuck me like a cheap, easy slut.
I want to be spending it with him.
Gerwyn
I feel like an utter fool as I cross the landing to my bedroom, retreating in embarrassment with my tail between my legs. My laptop is already set up, but I’m not such an utter fool that I believe I’ll be able to focus on reporting this evening. I should go out somewhere and leave them to it, but I’d be going out alone, drowning whatever sorrows I have. Sorrows I shouldn’t be having. It’s stupid.
It’s none of my business who Cass and Ant want to have upstairs in that room with them. It’s none of my business who climbs the staircase and what they do in there, and that’s fine. So long as Ant and Cass enjoy it, it’s no big deal. Who cares?
Me. I fucking care.
But I shouldn’t.
I pull my laptop onto my lap, scrolling through emails that need responses. I reply to the easy ones that need little more than a thumbs-up, avoiding anything that needs any serious brain power.
My brain power is all on one thing, even though I despise every second.
Who is going to be in that mattress room, and what are they going to be doing to her?