As we left the firm, my brother, Ben, swiped my phone. “You need a good meal and a glass of wine, not more stress.”
He shook his honey-coloured head, tutting as Dad used to.
“I need to check he actually showed up to something I planned for him,” I argued as we walked into the tube station next door. “Last time, I had to drag him into and out of the shower.”
On the escalator, Ben blinked and looked up at me. “Livie,” he said, the vowels of my name elongated with disappointment. “He seems like an actual asshole. Don’t tell me—”
“No, of course not!” When I was over the shock of his accusation, I lowered my voice and leaned down to say, “He’s infuriating. I wouldn’t sleep with him.”
But my brother cocked a brow. “You have always liked bad boys.”
“He’s not bad, he’s…” God, what was he? Frustrating, annoying, arrogant—
“A bad boy,” he said with a determined nod. “And you’re too much of a good girl.”
I cringed at those words coming out of his mouth. He laughed as we waited on the platform. It was only 2 pm, meaning it was 7:30 pm in India, where our race was on Sunday and where I needed to be by Friday.
He should be back at the hotel by now. Perfect time to check in and see if everything went well before he had a few drinks.
But there was nothing that text could change.
We boarded the carriage and took the Jubilee line to Mayfair, where we met Ben’s boyfriend, Griffin, for lunch. My brother had been right; I did need the large lunch and wine. So much so that when Griff went back to work, Ben and I carried on drinking and when Griff rejoined us, he had to neck a couple of shots to catch up.
And I no longer cared if Nix had gone to the charity event. I had enough personal drama. When it came to Nix, I had done everything I could.
Doing everything right last time had resulted inVinnydying. Everything wasn’t enough sometimes.
And that became more apparent when Ben drunkenly made the conversation serious. “Adam texted me,” he admitted sheepishly.
I groaned, throwing my head back as we sat at the bar, then sprang up straight as the stool shuffled and I nearly went flying. I mixed my cocktail with the straw, trying to pass it off as he laughed into his glass.
“Don’t want to hear it.”
“They’ve reactivated your company email for the court case,” he said nonetheless. “He wants to forward your emails with the papers being sued. To have your back.”
“Oh, how sweet of him,” I grumbled. “He’s really got my back.”
“He also said if you need any freelance work—”
Griff scoffed. “Fuck him.”
“Yes, Griff!” I cheered and clanged our glasses together. “Exactly. Fuck him. Where was this support six months ago? Prick.”
“If you did want to come back…” Ben started and paused by sipping the melted ice in his glass. “It would be easier than working for NixonArmas.”
“He’s not all that bad,” I said with a heavy smile and heavier eyes. “God, I am tipsier than I thought.”
Griff laughed and chimed my glass with his again. “Drink up and we’ll take you home.”
And as much as I knew I would regret the drinking in the morning when I would be rushing for my flight, I really needed this. A few days with my brother.
At his flat, he set an alarm on my phone. He knew that if I woke without setting one, I would immediately go into a panic. He kissed my forehead, sliding my phone under my pillow. “Sweet dreams, LittleLivie.”
Little lividLivie. That’s what Nix had called me.
I pulled out my phone the second he left and one notification caught my attention. Nix had posted on Instagram. The picture of him holding Clara’s hand. The caption was a motorbike emoji.
@Claralou__x and132kothers liked it. Going on her profile, he had liked her last six posts.
