Page 19 of Forever, Never, Always (Forever #2)

Sofia

Ric’s hand is tracing lazy circles on my bare hip, his breath tickling the curve of my neck.

We’re tangled in sheets, limbs wrapped around each other, and a happy sigh leaves me.

It’s easy to pretend when it’s just the two of us locked away in our own bubble.

It’s like the world outside of us doesn’t exist.

The doorbell rings, and I freeze.

Ric goes still beside me. “Are you expecting anyone?”

I shake my head, my heart hammering in my chest. “No.”

The buzzer sounds again. A second, more urgent ring, and then a voice.

“Sof, it’s me and Meg.”

Zoe . Shit.

I throw the sheets off and scramble for my clothes, adrenaline hitting me like a cold slap. Ric’s already halfway out of bed, tugging on his jeans.

“Upstairs, spare room,” I hiss, grabbing his hoodie and tossing it at him. “And stay quiet.”

He gives me a look, half amused, half annoyed. “You want me to hide in your attic?”

I glare at him. “You want to face Meg and Zoe, explain why you’re naked in my bed?”

He doesn’t argue. I shove him towards the guest room upstairs just as Zoe knocks on the door, this time more dramatic. “Sof, babe, are you alive? You’re scaring Meg out here.”

Meg’s voice follows. “We just want to check in.”

I yank my hoodie on over my head, trying to flatten my hair as I take the stairs two at a time with my heart in my throat and my cheeks burning red. The second I open the door, Zoe sweeps in like a queen.

“Finally,” she says, all glossy lips and too big glasses. “You look . . . flushed.”

“I was napping,” I lie. “I must’ve dosed off when I put Harry down.”

Meg gives me a hug. “We just wanted to see how you were.”

I frown. “You saw me at dinner.”

She glances to Zoe, who’s made herself comfortable on the couch. “I know, but Zo and I got talking and we were worried you’re struggling again. You’re not yourself.”

“I’ve been tired,” I say, shrugging. “Work and Harry . . . it’s all new, remember.”

“And I’m in the middle of a messy breakup,” snaps Zoe, rolling her eyes.

Meg offers another sympathetic smile. We both know how Zoe can be. “If you’re sure that’s all it is,” she says.

“Men are trash, content is dead, and I’m sick of ruining my makeup,” Zoe says dramatically. “And my two best friends don’t even care.”

Meg rolls her eyes, and we share a smirk. “Are you alone?” she asks, her voice slightly lower, and I’m not sure if she meant to keep it so Zoe can’t hear. I glance in her direction, but she hasn’t heard. She’s too busy scrolling through her phone.

I clear my throat. “Uh, yeah. Just me and Harry.” Upstairs, I swear I hear a floorboard creak.

Please, God, don’t let them stay long.

Meg heads into the kitchen. “Hope you don’t mind,” she calls out, and I hear wine glasses clink. “You’ve got that sauvignon I love.”

I swallow, my heart sinking. “Sure. Help yourself.”

Zoe kicks off her shoes and tucks her feet underneath her. She takes a selfie, pouting. “Checking on my ghost bestie. Still hot, still alive,” she reads as she types.

“You’re so dramatic,” I mutter. “And I haven’t been ghosting you.”

She brings her eyes to me. “Your hair is wild,” she says. “Like bed-head wild.”

“I told you, I was napping.”

Meg returns offering us each a glass of wine. I take mine and down half of it to calm my racing heart. I keep glancing at the ceiling, listening for any sign of movement. I’m a bag of nerves.

Then, my phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Ric: How long are you going to be? I need round two!

I don’t move fast enough. Zoe leans forward. “Ooooh, who’s that?”

I snatch the phone and flip it face down. “No one.”

Zoe raises her perfectly arched brow. “Round two? Sounds like someone’s been busy.”

Meg says nothing, but her eyes slide to me thoughtfully.

“It’s just a joke from one of the girls in the office. About my boss.”

Zoe grins, stretching like a cat. “Well, good for you. It’s about time you dusted off the cobwebs.”

She clinks her glass with mine, but her voice is sweet. Too sweet, like she’s waiting to see if I flinch. Meg keeps her silence, sipping her wine but occasionally glancing at the stairs. That feels more like an accusation than words ever could.

I take another drink, suddenly desperate for it all to be over. For them to leave. For Ric to come down. For this secret to stop being so loud. But I smile like everything’s fine and lie like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

We’re halfway through the second bottle when Zoe suddenly stands and stretches. “Ugh, I need to pee. Be right back.”

My heart stutters. “Use the one down here,” I say as she heads for the stairs.

She waves a hand. “Your downstairs one stinks of nappies. It’s really gross to keep the nappy bin in there.”

She begins to climb the stairs. “Zoe.” I lurch forward, almost knocking over my wine. I stand, panicked, unsure how to stop her. “Where else am I supposed to keep them? Anyway, it’s cleaner down here. Upstairs is a mess.”

She pauses, her manicured nail tapping on the banister. “Sof, I’ve seen you cry while Meg crammed a tampon up your nose to stop a bleed. You think I care if your laundry’s on the floor?” She continues to climb.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My pulse slams in my ears. I shoot Meg a panicked look, and she stares back over her wine glass like she’s waiting for the car crash to happen.

“Zoe . . .” I try again, but it’s too late.

She’s already on the upper landing. I stand frozen, heart hammering, praying Ric stayed up in the guest room.

Praying he didn’t sneak back down. Her voice floats downstairs. “Why’s your guestroom door shut?”

My mouth goes dry. “Because it’s messy. I don’t need you judging me. Hurry up before you wake Harry.”

Meg speaks for the first time. “You’ve got two minutes, maybe less.” I stare at her, my breathing heavy. She looks calm, yet her eyes look sharp, cutting. “You better hope she doesn’t open that door.”

“Meg . . . I—”

She holds up her hand. “Not now, Sofia. Not now.”

A flush. The sound of running water. Then the bathroom door creaks open, and I hold my breath, listening for her footsteps on the landing. When she appears, still scrolling on her mobile, totally unbothered, I want to cry with relief. “You really need to get scented candles up there.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Noted.”

She plops back down on the sofa, sipping her wine, unaware of the way I’m gripping my glass like a lifeline. Meg keeps her eyes on me, piercing into my soul. She knows. Not everything—not yet—but enough that she’ll give me the third degree when we’re alone, and I’m not sure I can lie to her face.

After a few more minutes of idle chat and filtered selfies, Zoe stretches again and announces, “Okay, I feel slightly less dead inside now. Mission accomplished. But don’t go quiet on me again.

I need you. It’s exhausting being heartbroken.

” And she heads for the door. Meg follows, and I’m relieved the second they step out and I close and lock it.

I slump back against it, my head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut.

I hear a door upstairs creak then Ric’s voice. “Are you okay?”

I open my eyes as a stray tear trickles down my cheek. “No,” I whisper, “not even a little.”

“I’ll go . . . if that’s what you want.” I know he’s just saying the words to test the water, but right now, I need space. I can’t think this through with a clear head when I’m drawn to him.

“I’ll call,” I mutter. “Leave out the back in case they’re lingering.”

Eric

Fuck. Why is this so hard? Zoe’s playing the broken-hearted victim, but seriously, I don’t buy it. She was never that into me. No way.

I call Jimmy the second I get home. “What?” he answers impatiently.

“I need you.”

“On my way.” And he disconnects.

I pour myself a whiskey and wait. Jimmy is disconnected. He’s single. He’s not clouded by emotion or with a woman in his ear. So, when he arrives ten minutes later with Seb and Hugo, I groan.

Hugo recognises my disgruntled expression and pats me on the shoulder. “We were together when you called.”

Jimmy takes the whiskey bottle and swigs straight from it before passing it to Seb. “They insisted on coming too.”

“Right, well, this is sensitive, and I don’t need Katie’s bitch or Meg’s right-hand man, lecturing me.”

“That’s not fair,” says Seb, taking a seat at the table. “Katie doesn’t control me, yah know.” I arch a brow, and he relents, shrugging, “At least not all the time.”

“You clearly need to talk, so let’s talk,” says Jimmy, also sitting and dragging the chair beside him out for me. I reluctantly take it, and Hugo grabs three more glasses and a fresh bottle of whiskey from the cupboard.

“Forget it,” I mutter. There’s no point now, not when Hugo could run right back to Meg and tell her everything.

As if he’s heard my thoughts, he fixes me with a hard stare and says, “I’m your brother. What you say tonight in this kitchen stays between us.”

“Can I say it without judgement?”

He looks hurt. “I’d never judge you, Ric. I might give advice you’re not ready to hear, but I’m never judging.”

I sigh. “I’m falling for Sofia . . . and she feels the same.”

Hugo pours us all a drink. “That’s good. It’s what you wanted,” he says. “Isn’t it?”

“But Zoe told me I can’t pursue Sofia.”

“Maybe she knew deep down Sofia felt the same,” Jimmy suggests.

“Either way, I didn’t listen. And now, Zoe and Meg are on our case, turning up unannounced and hanging around asking questions.” The words sound angry as they leave my mouth. “It’s making Sofia doubt us.”

“You’ve got two options,” says Jimmy. “Tell them straight—”

“Never gonna happen. It’s too soon, and Sofia doesn’t want to lose her closest friends,” I say.

“That leaves us with option two—show her it’s worth it, that you’re worth it.”

“How?” I ask.

Jimmy laughs. “Show her that Chadwick charm. Sneaking around for a quick lay isn’t making her see a future with you, and if she’s what you want, show her what you can offer her.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but he’s got a point,” Hugo agrees.