I tip my glass, downing what’s left of my drink in one go before catching the waitress’s eye for another. If I’m going to sit through this much love and fertility chat, I’ll need a refill.
Imogen clocks this because her eyes narrow on me instantly. “Alright, Liv. Spill. You’ve been quiet tonight, and that’s never a good sign.”
Four pairs of eyes turn toward me. I twist my napkin in my lap, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”
“Fine fine, or I’m a girl-who’s-about-to-cry-into-her-cocktail fine?” Zoe says.
“Somewhere in between.”
Imogen tilts her head. “How’s your dad doing?”
My throat tightens. “He’s… okay. Better than I thought he’d be. They said it was mild, but he’s being stubborn about the recovery. Won’t sit still, won’t listen. Typical Mitchell behaviour.”
“Sounds familiar,” Isla mutters, earning a round of smirks.
“Yup,” Amelia adds.
I shake my head, smiling faintly, though it doesn’t quite hold. “I just keep thinking about how close it was. And how it’s Christmas next week, and everything just feels… off. I don’t know. I thought I’d feel better by now.”
Zoe reaches across the table, brushing her hand over mine. “You’ve had a hell of a few weeks. You don’t have to bounce back right away.”
“I know,” I say softly. “But part of me keeps thinking maybe it’s not just Dad. Maybe it’s everything else too.”
“A fewweeks? Everything else? What have we missed?” Imogen looks between the girls, genuine confusion written all over her face. I can’t help but laugh at her expression. They look so bewildered, and honestly, they have every right to be. This all happened right under their noses.
“It’s nothing,” I say, brushing it off, but Amelia’s already raising a knowing brow.
“You mean Sebastian?” she asks.
Imogen and Isla gasp dramatically, loud enough to turn heads from the next table. His name sits heavy between us. Heat floods my cheeks, but I sigh, finally ready to admit it.
“I don’t even know where to start. It’s like one day, we were something, and the next, I was standing in his kitchen handing him back envelopes full of cheques he thought I’d cashed.” I exhale slowly. “He found Dad, you know. He’s the one who called it in. Stayed with him until the ambulance arrived.”
Isla leans forward. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“Hold on.” Imogen points at me. “I know you were babysitting Teddy, but when did this something more begin? You sneaky little… You took one out of her book.” She jerks her thumb at Amelia, who instantly turns beet red.
Amelia groans. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Nope,” I say with a grin, nudging her before circling back. “Honestly, I don’t even know when it started.”
But I do. In the quiet space between the rain and that song on the farm. Our first kiss. That’s when I stopped cashing the cheques because it felt wrong, taking money from him when I’d already given him something else. The table falls silent, and I swallow.
“It’s messy. But he made his choice. I knew the school holidays were coming. I knew it would end. He told Brad it wasn’t serious… that I was nothing.” The laugh that escapes me is small, bitter. “Imagine hearing that from the man who made you believe you were something.”
Imogen straightens suddenly, eyes wide. “Wait. Did you sleep with him?”
Oh, God. My stomach flips. I take a long sip of my drink instead of answering, trying not to blush as my mind floods with images I can’t unsee—his hands, his voice, the way he said my name like it was something sacred.
“Oh my God, shehas!” Isla squeals. The whole table erupts in gasps, laughter, and chaos.
“Oh, shush, the lot of you,” I hiss, trying to quiet them, but they’re already throwing questions.When? How many times? What was it like?
“I don’t even know,” I mumble, half-laughing, half-hiding my face. “I’ve lost count.”
Zoe winks. “Knew there was a good reason I called you Wild One.”
