Page 1 of Forever, Never, Always (Forever #2)

Sofia

One thing I hate about kids’ birthday parties is . . . well, everything.

Am I a bad parent because I don’t want to stand around while kids, high on sugar, race about screaming?

The fact my child is only eight months old means I have to follow him around the soft play area.

It’s my idea of hell. But said birthday party belongs to my best friend’s daughter, and there was no way I could miss Izzy turning four.

“This is my idea of hell,” mutters Zoe, leaning her hip against the pole that Harry is currently clinging to.

He wants to walk but is yet to take his first steps.

“Who invented this cesspit of germs?” she asks, looking around with disdain.

Zoe, also considered a best friend, isn’t child-friendly.

She is very clear about the fact that she will never have children.

“Ric seems to be enjoying it,” I say, nodding over to where her ‘boyfriend’ is chasing the kids around and pretending to be a lion. I say ‘boyfriend’ because it’s technically the longest situationship she’s ever had. Six months and they’re still ‘seeing’ one another.

Zoe doesn’t look impressed as he runs past with a stream of screaming children. “He’s practically one of them,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

I frown. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No, we’re fine.” But she doesn’t sound convincing, and honestly, I’ve been expecting it.

The second she thinks a man is getting too close, she clams up and finds ways to ick herself out.

The most recent being that he’s bought a house that just happens to be next door to me.

Last week, it was because he’s the brother of Hugo, our joint friend’s fiancé.

“You need to stop looking for reasons,” I tell her, and not for the first time. “He’s great fun and secure. A real salt of the earth kind of guy.”

“Relax, I’m not finding excuses.”

“Are you sure? Because last week you didn’t look overly impressed when he was with his brothers—”

“He was drunk and acting like an idiot,” she cuts in.

“And when he signed for the house, you weren’t exactly over the moon.”

“It’s a semi-detached,” she says, screwing her nose up. “No offence.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a snob.”

Meg saunters over holding the birthday girl on her hip. Izzy is sweaty, red in the face, and completely worn out. “You’re not moaning about the venue, are you?” she asks, staring directly at Zoe, who has the audacity to look offended.

“Of course not,” she says indignantly. “It’s . . .” she glances around again, shrugging, “nice.”

“Because I loved all the inspo pictures you sent of garden parties and white balloon arches, but I just couldn’t muster the energy to have Dan and Ashley in my home.”

I offer Meg a sympathetic smile. “You made the right choice. At least here you can avoid them.” Dan left Meg over a year ago, after she discovered his affair with Ashley. I look over to where Ashley is rocking her new baby to sleep. “Is Dan here?” I ask.

“Somewhere,” mutters Meg. “In fact,” she places Izzy down on the floor, “go and find Daddy,” she tells her, smiling when Izzy runs off. “He got her clothes for her birthday,” she adds in a low voice. “What four-year-old wants clothes?”

“Were they decent clothes?” asks Zoe.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Meg says, rolling her eyes. “I have nothing against supermarket clothes—I buy them all the time—but he could’ve made an effort. It’s all he’s getting her.”

“I actually noticed he’s making an effort with himself ,” I say, raising a brow. “Designer clothes, a fresh haircut. What’s gotten into him?”

Meg leans in, her voice dropping. “I think he’s having an affair. Actually, I’m certain. ” She’s said the same thing before, back when no one could get hold of Dan after Ashley gave birth. After ten years together, she knows him better than anyone.

“It’s only what Ashley deserves after the way she chased him into her bed,” I say with a shrug.

“Agreed,” says Zoe, nodding. “She’s not looking so smug these days, though,” she adds thoughtfully.

“Having a newborn is hard work,” I say. “Not that I’m defending her.”

“The kid is a couple months now, right?” asks Zoe, and Meg nods. “And she’s still wearing leggings and baggy shirts.”

“Hey,” I hiss, glancing down at my own leggings “Careful where you’re throwing shade.”

She arches a brow, smirking. “And you have absolutely no excuse because Harry is eight months now.”

“One day, you’ll have kids,” I warn, pointing a finger at Zoe, “and I will savour my moment of judgment.”

She barks a laugh. “That’s never happening,” she says, shaking her head like it’s the most ridiculous idea she’s ever heard. Ric joins us, panting, and Zoe eyes him warily. “Having fun?” she asks.

He grins. “There’s something about a soft play that makes me crazy.”

“Really, we couldn’t tell,” Zoe replies, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Let’s get a picture of you together,” says Meg with a smirk.

“Absolutely not,” Zoe says with a horrified gasp.

“Come on, I’ll tag you on Insta,” I add in a teasing tone. Zoe’s Insta account is perfect. Each picture is carefully thought out with absolutely nothing out of place. A picture of her and a sweaty Ric would not go down well.

Zoe mutters something and heads off towards the bathroom, Ric rushing after her. “I give it another month,” I say.

Meg groans. “Really? I mean, this seems to be going well for once.”

“She’s icked out because he bought a semi-detached house,” I say, arching a brow. “She’s not in the slightest bit sorry for saying it, either, knowing we have the exact same house.”

Meg laughs. “You’ve got to love her honesty.”

Ric

I wait patiently outside the bathroom, and when Zoe steps out looking fresh, I grab her and pull her close. She turns her head slightly when I try to kiss her, making sure my lips land on the side of her head rather than the intended lips.

“Are you okay?” I ask, and she nods. It’s the same response I’ve had for the last few weeks, and trust me, I’ve noticed her pulling away, but when I confront her on it, she tells me I’m imagining it. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Not unless Meg has Champagne stashed away somewhere.”

“I know this isn’t your thing, but it means the world to Meg that you came.”

“Of course, I’d be here, Eric, she’s my best friend.” And she stomps away, leaving me asking myself once again what the fuck I said wrong.

I join my brothers, all three gathered around a table eating from a basket of freshly cooked fries. I snatch one and lower into the seat beside Hugo, my eldest brother and Meg’s fiancé. “How come you’re not taking pictures?” asks Seb, the youngest of us yet the most sensible.

“Pictures?” I ask, taking another few fries.

“For miss Instagram of the year,” he says, nodding in Zoe’s general direction.

My brothers think it’s hilarious that whenever we go anywhere, Zoe has me taking her picture a thousand times over to get the perfect one. It’s annoying, but I get it—social media is her livelihood. It’s where most of her customers come from when they want any kind of party or event planning.

“She won’t be showing her followers that she’s in a soft play,” says Hugo, laughing. “She wanted to organise some lavish party at Mum’s,” he adds. “The type you see the stars throwing in those celeb magazines.”

“And Meg said no?” asks Seb.

“She didn’t want to invite the dreaded ex-husband to our place, and she felt wrong asking Mum to hold it, even though we all know she would’ve loved it.” Our parents are very family orientated, and they’ve accepted Meg and Izzy as their own.

“I get why she wouldn’t want Dan in her happy spaces,” I say. “He tends to taint things with his miserable persona.”

“He’s trying,” Hugo says with a shrug.

“What?” I scoff in disbelief. “You can’t stand him.”

“I know, but I’m trying to be more understanding and supportive for Meg’s sake. She reckons he’s screwing around behind Ashley’s back again.”

I wince. “Ouch. Although it was only a matter of time. The honeymoon stage doesn’t last forever.”

“Meg’s more worried he’ll keep getting random women pregnant so Izzy has loads of siblings from different women.”

“It must be hard enough that she’s had to accept Ashley after what she did,” agrees Jimmy.

“She doesn’t accept her. She tries to be civil, but Ashley makes it impossible.

For a short time, there was peace. After Meg helped deliver the baby, things were quiet for a while, but Ashley demands Dan’s time constantly, and she refuses to let Izzy stay over if she’s got so much as a runny nose for fear of passing germs to the baby. I was surprised she even showed today.”

“This is definitely a breeding ground for germs,” I say, glancing around the room as sweaty kids rub their hands on just about everything in sight.

I spot Sofia sitting with Harry on the floor, stacking blocks. “I’ll be right back,” I say, taking the leftover fries and heading her way.

I sit beside her and slide the basket her way. “Thought you’d like something seeing as you’ve not touched any of the food yet.” I don’t bother to question how I know that fact.

She offers me a grateful smile. “Thanks. How are you settling in?” She’s asked me that before—more than once—and I’m starting to wonder if I make her nervous, like she’s clinging to the safest question she can think of.

I nod, smiling. “I’m still settling in great. I hope I haven’t woken you with noise. I’m putting some shelfs up in the living room for my books.”

“You read?”

I laugh, and she blushes. “Yes. I am an English teacher after all.”

“Of course,” she mumbles, shaking her head, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“And no, you haven’t disturbed me at all.

Do you hear Harry crying?” she asks, wincing slightly.

I do, it’s constant, but Meg mentioned Sofia was struggling with Harry, and I’d hate for her to be anxious in her own home, so I shake my head.

“No, nothing. Quiet as a door mouse. Are you excited to go back to work?”

“Yes, I can’t wait,” she mutters, but the excitement doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’ll be nice to be surrounded by adults again.”

When I first moved in, Sofia brought me a freshly made cake and we got chatting about her love of baking.

I was surprised when she said she worked for a magazine and not a bakery because the woman has serious skills.

“So, no more home baking for a while?” I ask, offering a disappointed pout.

She smiles. “And who’s having Harry?” I ask, handing the little guy a block, which he takes and tries to cram in his mouth.

“He’s going to a private nursery,” she almost whispers.

“Oh, right. Expensive.”

“Tell me about it. But I have no one else, and I need to work so . . .” She trails off.

“It’s a hard situation to be in. There’re a few teachers at work who have recently come back from maternity and they’re practically working for nothing because all their wages go on childcare.”

Zoe

I watch the way Ric leans into Sofia, making her laugh with whatever he’s saying. They look good together. They’re suited. He’d make an amazing father, and although we’re not at the stage where I can ask him about it, I already know he’ll want children because he adores them. And they adore him.

I place my hand over my invisible bump and sigh heavily. I know I can’t tell him about the baby because he’ll want me to keep it and I just can’t.

I’ve never been into the whole marriage and children thing.

Even as a small child. I didn’t plan my wedding or list my future children’s names, because as far as I was concerned, I wouldn’t have that sort of life.

I wouldn’t put a child through what I went through.

My parents love money more than they do me.

They were always away on business, and I was raised by a stream of different nannies, none of which I bothered to get to know because once my father had shagged them, Mother sacked them and hired the next. It was a never-ending cycle.

And I love money too, so very early on, I chose money over family. I only wish they’d been selfish enough to do the same so they could have spared me the heartache of rejection.

I’ve spent a long time building my brand.

I break my back to pull off the best events that run smoothly and are Instagram worthy.

Because in this day and age, that matters more than anything.

If it’s not photo worthy, people don’t want to know.

I’ve been sucked into the social media world, posting content that appeals to like-minded social media addicts.

And with a sea of influences at my mercy, I take full advantage.

These people are a different breed, and they throw events for anything.

A million followers equals ten grand spent on the best celebration to look worthy enough to keep growing, and that’s just a rough price for a garden event at their own place.

If they want to hire a venue, double it, triple it even.

So, in the fake world I am surrounded in, I’m thankful to still have my two best friends from childhood, and Eric, who, despite his flaws, makes me feel so loved and needed that I can’t quite be selfish enough to walk away.

He spots me watching and smiles, holding out his hand. I head over and grab it, lowering to sit in the circle the three of them have created. “Want a chip?” he asks, pushing the basket my way. I smile, taking one.