It was eventful. So why, until just now when Lello brought it up, was it absent from my thoughts? I don’t think I have been that obsessed with Monty.
It almost feels like something, or someone, has been blocking my memories. I shudder and force my body to start moving. I’ll ask Monty to check me over. Hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this.
But one thing has become clear. Something is very, very wrong.
“Pink! Pay attention! We have to make the best cookies ever!”
I rouse myself and give Lello my best smile. There is no point in burdening him with my concerns. So right now I’m going to focus on making cookies with Lello and trying to cheer Ned up. I’ve been a terrible friend to Jade. I can’t let my other friendships slip too.
Lello grins at me and gets to work. His happy chatter drifts on to other, far easier topics, and in no time at all, our baking efforts are ready.
I trail behind Lello as we head to Ned’s room. Lello carries the plate of freshly baked cookies, his eagerness radiating in every step. It’s classic Lello, always hoping that something sweet will fix everything. I don’t have the heart to tell him that Ned is probably not in the mood for company, let alone cookies. Lello wouldn’t understand, and besides, when Lello gets an idea, it’s easier to go along than to argue.
And it is a lovely thought and a wonderful gesture. Lello is a shining example of a good friend. His brightness kept us all going in the harem. I will forever be in awe of his unbreakablespirit and his ability to see the good in the world. I wish I could be more like him.
At the door, Lello knocks softly. There’s no answer, but he doesn’t wait long before letting us in. I hesitate on the threshold as Ned groans, slumping dramatically against his pillows.
“What the fuck do you want?” he snaps, shielding his eyes from the sudden light as Lello flips the switch.
“To check on you, of course!” Lello chirps, plopping down on the edge of the bed and presenting the cookies like a peace offering. “And to bring you cookies!”
I move to stand near the corner of the room, where I can watch without crowding. Ned grumbles something under his breath but shifts to sit upright. He eyes the plate warily before sighing and taking a cookie.
Lello’s face lights up when Ned takes a bite. “Delicious,” Ned mutters, begrudgingly, and the kelpie beams like he just won a prize.
“How are you, Ned?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.
His gaze flicks to mine, then away, and for a moment, I catch a flash of something raw. Grief, maybe, or guilt. People being kind to Ned unnerves him, I know that much. But ignoring him isn’t an option. Not tonight.
“Fine,” he mutters, and it’s so unconvincing I almost laugh.
Lello pats his arm. “When Daddy died, I thought the world was ending, but then Carter came along and now everything is wonderful.”
I wince. Wrong approach, Lello. Mentioning Ritchie to Ned is like poking an open wound. I see the flicker of irritation cross Ned’s face as he shoves another cookie into his mouth, probably so he doesn’t have to say anything.
I clear my throat, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere less painful. “In the harem, everything seemed so utterly hopeless and pointless. But life is so much brighter now.”
Ned exhales sharply and places the cookie back on the plate. “Guys, relax. I’m not about to yeet myself into the sun, so you can chill with this intervention bollocks.”
I can’t help it, I smirk a little. That’s the Ned I know. But his bravado doesn’t fool me, and judging by the look on Lello’s face, it doesn’t fool him either.
“I’ve been dumped,” Ned continues, his voice tight, “and I’m probably never going to see my great-great-grandkids again. I’m allowed to mope around in bed for a few days.”
Lello reaches out and pats his shoulder again, his worry as plain as day.
“Of course you are,” I say gently. “We just wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t alone.”
Ned looks at me, his mouth opening slightly like he wants to argue, but then he just slumps back against the headboard. “Thanks,” he mutters, the word barely audible.
It’s not much, but it’s something. I give him a small smile and place a hand on Lello’s arm. “Come on, Lello. Ned wants to be alone right now.”
Lello hesitates, glancing at me like I’ve just suggested abandoning a stray puppy in the rain. “Is that true?” he asks Ned.
Ned nods, and I can tell he means it. This is how he deals with his emotions. With distance and quiet. It’s not ideal, but it’s his way, and awfully similar to my own coping strategy, so I’d be a hypocrite not to respect it.
“Okay, well, if you need anything, just shout. We could do a movie night if you like?” Lello offers, his voice hopeful.
“I’ll let you know,” Ned says, his tone a little softer this time.
