Page 7 of Forever, Never, Always (Forever #2)

Sofia

My head hurts. I groan when I move, trying to block out the stream of sunshine that’s glowing through the gap in the curtains.

“Sof?” It’s Meg calling my name, and I push to sit as she enters the bedroom. “Christ, you’re not even up.”

“What time is it?” I whisper, realising I need water.

She hands me a bottle, and I smile at her mindreading skills as I unscrew the cap and take a long drink. “It’s almost eleven.”

My eyes widen. I was supposed to pick Harry up an hour ago. “Shit.” I grab my mobile phone and see two missed calls from my father. “They’ll kill me.”

“Relax. I’ll go and grab Harry to save you the lecture. You get showered and be ready for when I get back.” I frown, and she sighs heavily with impatience. “We’re going to Charlotte and Harry’s barbeque, remember?”

“Why am I going to Hugo’s parents’ barbeque?”

“Because you said you would last night when Hugo asked you.”

By the time we arrive at the Chadwicks’ place, my hangover is in full swing. I put Harry in his pushchair and follow Meg inside.

I like coming here. The few times I’ve been, they made me feel like part of their family, and I always leave here with a full heart .

. . and stomach, because Charlotte is a serious feeder.

But being around this family makes me realise what I’ve missed out on.

My parents were strict and old fashioned.

My mother wasn’t loving or remotely maternal, which is why I vowed to do things differently with Harry.

We go through to the kitchen, where the large sliding doors are pushed fully open.

The back garden is a hive of laughter and chatter, instantly relaxing me as Charlotte approaches.

She wraps each of us in a hug before taking Izzy in her arms and then greeting Harry, who is babbling away in his pushchair.

The other thing about the Chadwicks is they love children.

“Get a drink,” she instructs, pointing to the punch bowl on the side. I groan, shaking my head as Meg dives in.

“Charlotte’s summer punch is famous,” Meg tells me, sipping it and closing her eyes in delight. “Here, try a little.”

“I don’t think I can ever drink again,” I say dramatically.

Hugo joins us, kissing Meg on the lips. He brings his gaze to me, smirking. “Hangover?”

“A ridiculously bad one,” I mutter.

“Ric, get over here. We need one of your hangover cures,” he calls, and I wince as the noise shakes my brain.

Ric comes over, looking as fresh as a daisy and smiling wide with that killer grin. “Good afternoon. Heavy night?” he asks.

“Something like that.”

“The best thing is hair of the dog,” he adds, scooping some of the punch into a cup and holding it out to me. I shake my head, knowing I won’t be able to stomach it, plus I have Harry to think of.

“Just a few sips,” he encourages, and I groan as he holds it to my lips. I sip and almost smile. Meg was right, it tastes good and nothing like alcohol. I take the cup and have a few more sips.

“Told you,” says Meg knowingly.

I sit on the oversized beanbags. Harry went down for a nap, and I’m making the most of it by enjoying the sun. Tipping my face back, I feel a presence beside me within seconds. I smile when I open my eyes to see Ric.

“How was the date?”

“Good. No Zoe?”

He shakes his head. “She came over last night but left first thing. She had things to do.”

I frown. “Family is important.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I instantly regret them.

“It’s fine. She isn’t close to hers, so she doesn’t get it.”

“Talk to her, Ric. It’s important to you, and I think she’ll be upset if she thought you were mad she wasn’t here.”

“I’m not mad,” he says defensively.

“Okay.” I close my eyes. Zoe can be selfish. She doesn’t always think about anyone else, but it’s just the way she is, and I know if he explained this to her, she’d come.

“I’m really not mad,” he repeats, and I open one eye.

“Okay.”

“You’re saying that like you don’t believe me.”

I sigh, sitting up a little. “Do you want Zoe here?”

“It’s not her thing.”

“Do you want her here?”

He sighs too. “I guess.”

I laugh. “You guess?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps and then winces. “I don’t mind just chilling with everyone. When she’s here, she kind of makes me feel like she’d rather be somewhere else.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” he rushes to add. “I just relax more when she’s not here.” He groans. “That sounds so bad.”

“Maybe I’m not the one you need to speak to about this.”

I go to get up, but he places his hand on my thigh, and I stop.

We both stare at where he touches me, and I clear my throat nervously to hide the fact that I felt something.

A spark maybe. “Aren’t we friends?” he eventually asks.

I relax back into the beanbag. Despite not meaning to, I have begun to see Ric as a friend, so I nod.

“Then let’s start again, and this time, we won’t talk about Zoe. ”

“It wasn’t really a date,” I admit. He sits straighter with a slight frown marring his forehead. “And I lied to Meg and Zoe about it, and now, I feel terrible.”

“Why did you lie?”

“Because I want them to think I have my shit together.” I give an unamused laugh. “How stupid is that?”

“It’s not.”

“They’re my best friends. They don’t care if I have my shit together, but I was sick of seeing the worry in their eyes. So, I didn’t tell them it was a work thing. Everyone was there.”

“Was he at least there?”

I laugh. “Yes, and we did flirt . . . I think.”

“You think?”

I shrug. “It’s been a while, and I was never good at it anyway.”

“How did you leave it?”

“I slipped away unnoticed,” I say, wincing again as he stares open-mouthed. “Don’t look at me like that. I was trying to avoid the weird thing where I don’t know if we kiss or just leave.”

Ric laughs. “Kiss? It wasn’t a date.”

I feel my cheeks redden, and he immediately stops laughing. “Sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, but you’re overthinking it.”

“I didn’t want to kiss him,” I announce. “I was worried he might try to kiss me, and he’s my boss, so it would’ve gotten messy.”

Ric grabs my hands and looks me in the eye. “I’ll take you on a date.” I pull my hands back and glance around to make sure no one heard. “Oh, I don’t mean a real one,” he adds, almost laughing again. “Like a fake one.”

“Why?”

“To help. I’ll assess where you’re going wrong . . . or right. Like a prep lesson.”

I bite my lower lip. “What about Zoe?”

“She’s busy tonight. She won’t mind.”

I take a breath. “Isn’t it weird?”

“A friend helping another friend?”

“I feel like such a charity case.”

“Look, I’m good at this dating shit, and I’ve had a lot of practice. It’ll be fun. Humour me. And maybe I can set you up with friends. I know loads of singletons.”

Eric

Why? Why the fuck would I offer to fake date Sofia? I know why . . . because I fancy her, and being on a date, even a fake one, feels good. But deep down, it’s wrong. I know it is, which is why I didn’t mention it on the phone to Zoe earlier.

I take a breath and knock on Sofia’s door. She opens it, and I assess the jeans and jumper with a frown. She pauses and looks down at her outfit. “What?”

“It’s not giving ‘date’,” I say, stepping inside.

“But we’re staying here,” she replies. She didn’t have a babysitter for Harry, so it made sense to stay in.

“We’re pretending this is real, right? But I’ll let you off.”

She heads for the kitchen, and I follow. “I cooked chicken curry,” she says as the aroma hits my senses. “You mentioned before you love homemade curry.”

I lean over the large pan bubbling away. “Only if it’s made right,” I say in a teasing tone. I grab the spoon beside it and dip it in, tasting it. My eyes widen in surprise as she waits patiently for my review. “That’s amazing,” I say. “Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“My friend’s mum when I was in school,” she says, shrugging. “She was from India, and she taught us both how to make a real curry using her great grandmother’s recipe. It was years old.”

“It’s amazing. You need to show my mum how to make that.” I hold up a bottle of wine. “I got white.”

“Only a small glass for me,” she says, grabbing two wine glasses from the cupboard.

I pour us each a glass and take a seat at the kitchen island, watching as she drains the rice. “Okay, let’s go into this like we don’t know each other,” I say. “I’m Ric, and I’m a teacher.”

She smirks. “I’m Sofia, and I’m a writer.”

“Cool, what do you write?”

“It’s for a magazine. I recently wrote an article on a well-known romance novel.”

I smile. “Really? Have you got it?”

She nods, turning back to grab a magazine from her bag and handing it to me. “Second page,” she adds proudly.

“Sofia, this is amazing,” I say, forgetting the roleplay and showing my genuine happiness. I read the article, finding myself grinning with pride. “This is really good. You’re wasted there.”

She scoffs. “I doubt that. I mean, it’s not a top line magazine or anything, but it’s probably on my level.”

“Nonsense. It’s bloody brilliant.” She glows under my praise, and I fight the urge to wrap her in my arms as we head for the table. She places the dishes down in the centre, and I top up the wine.

Once we’re seated, she nods at the curry. “Help yourself.”

“I’ll serve,” I offer, scooping some rice and adding it to her plate, followed by the curry. “So, you can cook, you can write, what other talents are you hiding?”

“Umm, I could add mother, but I don’t think I’m quite skilled in that department yet.”

“You’re a mum,” I say, pretending to be surprised.

She grins. “Yep. Harry. Almost one.”

“It didn’t work out for you and the father?”

“No.” I stare, waiting for her to continue, but she remains silent. “Okay. Past relationships?”

She winces. “Is this part really necessary?”

“As a rule, I try not to ask about past loves on the first date,” I tell her, “but you started it by mentioning Harry.”

“Should I keep it to myself?”

I shake my head. “No. You need to pick out the guys who aren’t serious.”

“Who’s going to be serious on the first date?”