Page 11 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

Ben goes to shake her hand, but she pulls him into a hug instead.

As she does, I say a quick hello to Julien, whose brown cheeks heat when I tip him off about the lipstick, and Kensie, who jokingly chides me for telling him, then smile around the table.

As we take our seats, Mel does a quick round of introductions.

“Everyone, this is my cousin Linny and her boyfriend, Ben. Linny, you know all my bridesmaids, Kensie, Amber, and Imani. And this is Kensie’s girlfriend, Jen.

Then on Julien’s side, we have Darren, Gregory and his wife Claire, and Paul, the best man.

” She looks up at someone behind me, and I can only guess who is approaching based on the darkening of her eyes.

Her joyful expression drops as she says, “Ah, and here is Atti and his girlfriend, Bridget.”

Ben’s hand lands on the small of my back as Atti takes the seat across from me. He’s donned on a casual gray suit that probably cost more than I earn in a month. When he’s settled in his seat, he pretends to notice me for the first time, having the nerve to act shocked. “Linny? Hey. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Good. You look great.”

“Okay.”

His eyes shift around the table like he’s looking for backup, but he receives none. He adds, “I’m a bit surprised to see you.”

My eyes lift to the ceiling. “I’m a bridesmaid. Mel is my cousin, remember?”

“You hate to leave Carolyn alone with the shop, is all I mean. How is she, by the way?”

“Alive.”

“Good. Great.”

His focus flickers to the man beside me—Ben, whose hand stays on my back, touch radiating comfort through me.

“This is Ben,” I offer, knowing the correct thing to do would be to look lovingly into his eyes, but my attention stays on Atti. He stiffens at the introduction, sparking a feeling of triumph.

He recovers quickly and reaches a hand across the table for Ben to shake. “You look familiar,” he says. “Have we met before?”

“Likely not,” Ben replies, voice cool and casual as he shakes Atti’s hand. “Andy, Mel said your name was?”

Atti’s jaw tightens at Ben’s obvious snub. “Atti,” he corrects. “Short for Atticus.”

I introduce myself to Atti’s girlfriend, Bridget. She’s tall and brunette, with long hair falling in gentle curls down her back. Atti did always say he wished I were taller. Craning down to kiss me hurt his neck.

Bridget offers a civil smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. All great things.”

Dammit. She seems nice. Or at the very least, polite.

We get dinner, and I avoid talking to Atti. Also, Ben’s arm stays casually around the back of my chair the entire time, even as he becomes immersed in conversation with Paul, who is sitting beside him. Once we finish our meals, Melanie decides it’s time to move on to the bar.

This bar is a step closer to the club we will end the night at. Ben takes my hand as we walk in. “Stairs,” he warns in a quiet voice after we pass through the threshold. I appreciate the warning, squeezing his hand tightly as I descend the two steps. I didn’t expect them.

The group of us is sat in a U-shaped booth, three small tables set up in the middle, hitting me at knee height. It’s a tight squeeze, fourteen of us trying to fit. Kensie has already moved onto Jen’s lap, and it looks like Claire is about to do the same with Gregory. Even then, it’s compact.

“You could sit on my lap,” Ben says in my ear.

Every thought in my head tells me no, that is an absurd idea. But aloud, I say, “Okay.”

I pick up my drink and settle on Ben’s lap.

He grips my thigh, keeping me steady and in place.

My skin prickles under his touch. I look at him, our faces so close, lips just a breath away, really.

Air catches in my throat as the memory of our kiss all those months ago crashes into me like a powerful wave, yanking me under.

I’ll be honest, I have hardly thought about it since.

The kiss was great, don’t get me wrong, but it happened on a night when I was in a really bad place, so it’s not something I particularly like to think about.

I was in a bad place for several months.

But sitting here right now with his hand hot against my bare leg and his breath skimming my lips, all I want to do is kiss him again.

So, I do. On the cheek. I press a light kiss to stubbly skin then whisper in his ear, “Thanks again for this.”

His lips move to my ear next, us performing perfectly as a couple exchanging sweet nothings. “A beautiful woman is sat on my lap. I’m thanked enough.”

I lightly bite my lip. He’s not shy with his compliments. I tease, “ Well, if you get too excited, I’ll be able to tell.”

“What would you do if I did get too excited?” His voice is low, taunting in a way that makes me clench my thighs together.

That microscopic movement was enough of an answer for Ben.

His hand gently strokes my thigh as he takes a slow sip of his drink, eyes on me the entire time.

I gulp, turning away from him. This is not why he’s here.

Obviously, yeah, Ben is a very attractive man.

But I won’t let myself be distracted by that.

I refocus on the group, finding it difficult to hear what anyone is saying over the loudness of the music, but I do manage to engage with those in my immediate surroundings. Ben starts talking to Paul again, and I strike up a conversation with Kensie and Jen.

I finish my drink, and the waitress is almost immediately by to ask if I want another. My feet still hurt, so I say yes, handing her my empty glass.

Once she brings me my next drink, Ben says in my ear, “You’re too stiff. Lean back into me.”

I do as he suggests without question, settling back into his chest, his grip on my thigh still firm. It’s so natural to be at ease around him, his entire aura calming. As I settle in, the scent of pine fills my nostrils—that must be him. Like a cozy candle.

The night continues with chatting and laughing. I peep at Mel every now and then to make sure she’s having a good time. Each time I do, she’s smiling, which is a good sign.

Once I finish my drink, I lean forward so I can set the empty glass on the table. In doing so, however, I knock another glass off. Shards explode as it hits the ground. I didn’t see the other glass.

“Shit,” I say, hopping up from Ben’s lap to go after the shattered glass. I reach out to start picking up the broken remains, but a hand closes around my wrist, halting me.

“Don’t,” Ben says in my ear. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

I pull back as a chorus of chatter erupts around me, but only one voice stands out.

“Nice one, Linny,” Atti says, voice dripping with venomous annoyance. I freeze at the familiar tone.

I stand there, immobile, with Ben still holding onto my wrist. Someone must have flagged down our waitress because she comes over with a broom to sweep up the glass.

“Sorry,” we all say, as though we all have something to apologize for. As though they should all be regretful on my behalf.

I turn away as she cleans, unable to watch. My eyes moisten, getting ready to become heavy streams, but all I will allow to fall is one tear. I shouldn’t be crying over this.

Ben lets go of my wrist to loop an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, but doesn’t say anything. His thumb gently strokes my side, offering a private comfort.

Bridget must also see the tear, because she says, “I break things all the time. I’m so clumsy, especially if I’ve had a few.”

I smile politely. She’s being nice, but she doesn’t understand. I’m not upset because I broke a glass. I’m upset because I broke a glass I did not see. A glass I should have seen. A glass everyone else in our little group would have seen. And I didn’t break it because I was drinking.

As the waitress sweeps up the last bit of glass, I offer again, “I’m so sorry.”

The waitress shakes her head. “No bother at all. It happens when people are having fun.”

Atti snorts distastefully. “She needs to be more careful.”

Ben snaps, “It was an accident, mate,” as his grip tightens.

Atti’s lip curls as the waitress walks away. “All I’m saying is this isn’t the first time I’ll have to tip a waitress because Linny broke a glass.”

Ben scoffs. “ You don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s fine, Ben,” I say. “I’ll add a tip. It’s fine.”

His hold remains on me and his eyes maintain the glare for Atti, but he doesn’t say anything more. Everyone else settles back down, so Ben and I sit, me retaking my place on his lap. I lean back into him again, but no longer feel like talking. Tears are still threatening to escape.

It’s ridiculous. It is so embarrassing when I do things like this and people assume it’s because I’m drunk.

It would be less embarrassing if they knew I was night blind, but there is no need to announce that every time I make a little mistake.

I need to get a sparkly button that declares visually impaired person whenever I go out in public, I suppose. I wish I had seen the glass.

If I keep sitting here, the tears will fall. I push myself up, saying, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Do you need me to go with?” Mel asks, moving to stand.

But I’m already walking away—too fast. I bump into someone and apologize.

I force myself to walk slower, eyes darting around the dark room in an attempt to see as much as I can.

Thankfully, we have been here for a while, so I have had time to map out the path to the bathroom if I needed it.

That’s what I do, take in a less-than-light space for as long as I can before I have to move independently in it.

It helps. However, it’s never a perfect system because there is one factor that never stays consistent: people.

They have a very annoying tendency to move.