The words almost came tumbling out, but I bit them back. Not sure why. But all I did was nod. “Anytime.”
Another frosty smile, the one I was used to seeing, and she opened the door, closing it like she thought I was going to try and stop her. And if it was still raining, I just might have.
chapter twelve
i thought lightning never struck the same place twice?
“So, when’s the wedding?”
I tried to shoot my best death glare at Rory, but looking at her like that was like death glaring Bambi, and I wasn’t morally corrupt enough for that. So instead, I smiled and reined in my sigh.
“He touched my hand for a second. And for the last time, it’s not, nor will it ever be like that with Marcus.”
She pouted, her bottom lip jutting out. “Way to burn the fairytales.”
I loved Rory to pieces, I did, but she was the kind of hopeless romantic that I’d just never been. Everything was clear skies and tiny cupids with that one. And sure, that was one of the reasons why I adored her so much, but she would take any little detail and turn it into something it could never be. Especially when I was the one sharing.
Take two seconds ago—I’d let it slip that Marcus had saved me from the rainstorm, and he and I had as close to a heart-to-heart as I’m positive we will ever have, and our handsaccidentally brushed, and now she’s picking out bridesmaids' dresses.
“I’m sorry; I just think it’s cute.” She gushed as she swept her half of the floor behind the counter. Closing shifts at Flo’s were only fun with her, so, imaginary wedding planning aside, I was glad she was here. “This stoic man, whom I’ve never seen smile, suddenly being all soft and warm? The man’s got layers.”
I shrugged as I finished counting the notes from the till. “Okay, that’s fine. I don’t want to see those layers. And better yet, I don’t even want him around. But he’s adamant on being by my side every waking minute—”
“Which we like, might I add.”
“Okay, I get it. I’m safe. But does he have to be such a pain in the arse about every little detail?” I tucked the notes away in the plastic folder and slammed the till, lowering my voice. “Cora, you’ve deviated from your usual route; are you safe? Cora, I’m outside. Where are you? Cora, you woke up thirty seconds later than you did yesterday; are you still alive? Like, fuck me, let a girl breathe for once.”
Rory propped up her brush and headed my way, picking up her matcha as she sat on the counter behind me. “But wouldn’t you rather have someone who was making sure you were safe than someone who couldn’t care less if something happened to you?”
I rolled my eyes as I spun to face her. “Of course I do, but he just annoys me.”
Her head bobbed as she slipped the straw between her lips. “If good looks and a protective streak annoy you, then I don’t want to know what your type is.”
“Okay, A. there’s protective, and there’s whatever that human padlock is. And B, my type has nothing to do with him because that’s not what’s happening here. I’m not ready, Ror, nor am I even interested in him.”
Don’t roll your eyes at me. I get it. Marcus is handsome and every girl’s dream man when they’re picking a romantic scenario to fall asleep to. I’ll even admit guilt to that. But contemplating the idea of starting anything romantic, not just with Marcus, but with anyone, was enough to make me want to live under my covers for the rest of my life.
Even for the few minutes I’d dipped my toes into those waters with Rainie, that was more than I thought I was ready to handle. So, single Cora was staying single, and that thought made me happy.
Rory popped her cup down and slid off the counter, leaning against the one beside me. “Fine, you’re right, I’m sorry.”
I nudged her, letting my smile show just a little. “It’s fine. But when the time does come when I’m ready to let my heart run wild, I know who to tell first.”
Her smile beamed. “Good, because I have candidates ready. There’s someone in Daisy’s band that I think is totally your vibe, and Bindi told me the new girl on the Lionesses squad seems like a bit of you.”
My smirk pulled. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
We finished cleaning the rest of the counter and moved on to boxing up the pastries that hadn’t sold today.
I truly loved this job, for more reasons than one. Florence, the owner, was a saint. A true fairy godmother figure when mine was all the way back in London. She knew what having this job meant, that it made me feel normal when my other source of income was anything but. Luckily, I hadn’t had that many encounters with fans over the counter whilst working, and even when I did and they questioned why I was here, I simply said I was helping out a friend.
Image was everything online, and I’d made sure to keep mine squeaky clean up until the incident with. Once the news broke, most of my fans were on my side about the whole ordeal. Thankfully. But of course, there were a few that weren’t, but I ignored it, because the only thing that mattered to me then was getting better—
My phone dinged on the counter, and like my thoughts had manifested, I swiped to find another message from a random account, victim-blaming me. I sighed and blocked the account, pressing play on the Lily Allen playlist that was softly humming through the speakers, and went back to boxing up.
“You okay?” Rory asked, turning and folding open a new box.
I blew a breath out of my nose, and shook my head as a humourless smile invaded my mouth. “It just amazes me how people can always find a way to blame women for something that wasn’t their fault.”
