Page 27 of Forever, Never, Always (Forever #2)

Sofia

“If there’s one thing more destructive than a lie, it’s a perfectly timed truth.”

I frown. “What does that mean?” I ask Meg, placing the phone between my ear and shoulder while I get Harry’s bottle ready.

“At a guess, I’d say Zoe suspects something.”

“And she posted that on her socials?”

“Yep, this morning. I’m going to call her and see if she’s okay.”

Ric comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Okay. Let me know what she says.”

“And maybe arrange to see her, tell her about you and Ric,” Meg suggests before disconnecting.

I place my phone on the counter and turn in his arms. He kisses my nose and takes Harry’s bottle from me, shaking it vigorously. “That’s not a happy face.”

“It’s Zoe,” I mutter, “She posted something cryptic on her socials. Meg think’s she might suspect something’s going on.”

Ric rolls his eyes. “Or she posted something random she saw on a Gandhi quote and reposted it, and you and Meg are reading into it.”

“If there’s one thing more destructive than a lie, it’s a perfectly timed truth.”

He shrugs. “Maybe not Ghandi, but definitely attention-seeking. I bet there’re loads of comments on it asking if she’s okay.”

I shake my head. “She’s not like that.”

He scoffs. “She doesn’t like attention? Who are you kidding?”

“Can you stop?” I snap, and his expression softens. “She’s still my best friend, and you’re wrong about her. She pretends to be outgoing and outspoken, but she isn’t.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t speak about her like that. Give her a call. Check on her.”

My mobile rings, and I grab it. It’s Meg.

“False alarm,” she says, laughing. “She’s fine. She just liked the quote.” I make eye contact with Ric and smile in relief. He rolls his eyes again and goes off to feed Harry. It’s funny how easy we’ve slipped into the routine of family life.

“In fact, she invited us to The Ivy for lunch. Her treat.”

“Today?”

“Yeah. She’s got a table booked.”

“I had plans with Ric,” I mutter feebly, hating to be that girl.

“I think this would be the perfect time to tell her, Sof.”

Ric sticks his head around the door. “Go,” he whispers. “I’ll take care of Harry. Get it done so we can stop creeping around.”

“Settled,” says Meg. “Meet you outside The Ivy at one?”

“Okay.” My stomach fills with nerves. But she’s right, it needs to be done.

Zoe is waiting outside, poised like she’s stepped out of a magazine spread.

Her cream wool coat skims the hem of the black dress beneath it, tailored to perfection.

Her sunglasses rest on her head like a crown, and a designer bag hangs effortlessly on the crook of her arm.

She smiles as I approach, polished and unreadable.

We air kiss, her perfume blooming in the space between us.

“You look amazing,” I say.

“I know.” There’s something about her tone—flat, offhand. Off. I glance past her, scanning for Meg. “I called Meg and cancelled,” Zoe says lightly, slipping her arm through mine.

My steps falter. “Why?” She doesn’t answer. She’s already speaking to the host, her voice smooth as silk.

We’re led through the restaurant, her heels clicking a little too confidently on the tile. I slide into my seat, trying to shake the weight in my chest.

She orders a bottle of wine. The good kind. The kind we usually save for birthdays or breakups. She turns to me with a soft, sugar-sweet smile. “I thought it’d be nice. Just us. We never get real time together anymore.”

Now, I know something’s wrong.

I reach for my glass but hesitate. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” I say carefully, watching her face for a flicker . . . of anything.

Nothing. She’s composed. Controlled.

Zoe raises her glass and drains half of it in one go before topping it up again, all in a single, elegant motion. She leans back, eyes steady. “To tell me about you and Ric?”

The question hits like a slap. My breath catches and my throat tightens. She doesn’t blink.

“I mean,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “that is what you wanted to talk to me about . . . isn’t it?”

I stare at her. For a second, I forget how to breathe. She knew. She knows .

I open my mouth then close it again. There’s no point pretending. “It wasn’t planned,” I say quietly.

Zoe lifts her glass again, swirling the wine like she’s waiting to be impressed. “It never is.”

Her voice is calm, but it’s the kind of calm that comes before something shatters.

“I didn’t want to—”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she cuts in too quickly. “Neither did he, right? Just one of those things. Chemistry. Timing. Sparks.” Her eyes meet mine. “Accidents.”

I flinch. “Zoe . . .”

She finally leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, the wine glass still between her fingers. Her expression is unreadable, but her voice softens . . . dangerously so.

“I told him not to tell you. Not because I was trying to protect myself. I was protecting us . You and me. Our friendship.”

“I know,” I whisper.

She laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “Guess it didn’t matter.”

The silence stretches between us. It’s out there now, and all I have to do is damage control. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” I say, the words barely above a whisper.

She nods slowly, looking down at her glass. “Yeah. That’s the thing about hurt, though. It happens anyway.”

“ We weren’t trying to hurt you,” I repeat.

She gives a small, unamused laugh. “We,” she repeats, shaking her head in silent anger. “You know what really hurts?” she asks quietly. “The lies. You’ve been sneaking around together, playing happy families, knowing what this would do to our friendship. Knowing and not caring.”

“I care,” I cry, glancing around when the other diners begin to look over. “I do,” I add more quietly. “It just sort of happened, and then I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“When did you stop being my friend?” she asks, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest. She leans forward. “Do you know why you found it so difficult to tell me, Sofia?” I remain silent. “Because you knew it was wrong. You knew I’d be upset.”

“I didn’t want to lose our friendship.”

“Then you shouldn’t have fucked my ex-boyfriend,” she hisses, venom lacing her words, making me recoil.

“You and I, we’ve been through everything together.

First kisses, bad breakups, job rejections, hangovers from hell .

. . and this is the thing that breaks us?

Him ?” Tears fill her eyes, but she immediately blinks them away and straightens her shoulders, like she’s already rebuilding her walls.

I reach across the table instinctively. “Zoe—”

She pulls her hand back like I’ve burnt her. “Don’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing,” I mutter. “Not everything has to be a drama.” I regret the words instantly, but it’s too late to pull them back, so I brace myself to ride it out.

I risk a glance, and she’s now leaning back in the chair, watching me. “I loved him,” she admits. “Love him,” she corrects, and our eyes connect. “And just because he decided we wouldn’t work doesn’t mean I can just turn those feelings off. So, please don’t sit there and make out I’m overreacting.”

I nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You have every right to be upset. I should’ve told you straight away, but I was scared I’d lose you.”

“You’ve said that already,” she mutters, her tone bored.

“It’s true,” I say. “You’re one of my best friends, Zoe. And you said it yourself, we’ve been through so much together. Surely, we can get through this.”

“Best friends don’t do what you did,” she says, topping up her wine. She holds the bottle up to a passing waiter, and he nods, rushing off to get another.

He returns seconds later with a fresh bottle. “Are you ready to order?”

“Two of the lobster,” she replies without looking at the menu. “And get us a bottle of Champagne. Expensive.”

I frown slightly, not understanding where this is going.

Once he’s gone, I lean closer. “I know I’ve been a crap friend—”

“Do you love him?” she asks, cutting me off. I nod, and she looks away like my admission is too painful for her.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t have feelings.”

“Thank the lord for small mercies,” she mutters sarcastically.

“I just meant . . . it’s not all been for nothing. We’re not just hooking up.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she snaps.

“I don’t know how to make it better,” I admit, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I wanted to tell you. It was just never the right time.”

She rolls her eyes. “Did you do anything behind my back?”

Lying now would make it even worse, but I know telling her the truth will break her. “Not really.” She gasps, unable to hide the pain from her expression any longer. “We kissed. We immediately regretted it. And he ended things with you right away.”

“It’s like I don’t even know you,” she cries. “What happened, you saw me happy for once and decided you wanted it for yourself?”

I shake my head, aware that people are looking. “No. Not at all. It wasn’t like that.”

She slams her hands on the table. “If you’re serious about making this right—”

“I am.”

“Then end it.” My world slows to a standstill as I process her words. “You can’t have both, Sofia. So, choose. Me or him.” Then she pushes to her feet and storms out, right as the waiter brings out two dishes of lobster, and the waitress follows with an open bottle of Champagne. Fuck.

Eric

“What do you mean she cancelled?” I ask, placing my mobile on the worktop and hitting the speaker button so I can change Harry’s nappy.

“She texted me twenty minutes before and cancelled,” Meg repeats. “But then Hugo mentioned he’d spoken to you and that Sofia still went. I tried calling Sofia, but she hasn’t picked up. Do you think Zoe knows?”

“Yes,” I snap. “She must.” I pull Harry’s trousers back on. “Where were they going?”

“The Ivy.”

“Okay, I’ll head over to check on her.”

“Are you sure? I can go.”

“No. I told her we’d face Zoe together.”