Page 43 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

Linny gives a glare and says, “Oh, please.” She picks up one of the place cards set on the table, unfolding it and holding it up between us.

She leans forward, using the open place card as a tiny shield that I meet her behind.

“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with my family so much,” she whispers, seeming genuinely distressed.

I smile. “I don’t mind. I like your family.”

“They’re ridiculous,” she argues.

“I like ridiculous.” I grab my glass of water from the table, bringing it behind our shield so I can take a sip and say into it, “I also like you.”

Her eyes squint suspiciously. “Fine.”

She drops the place card back on the table, and soon enough, our suppers are brought out.

We eat, continuing to chat with her family.

Carolyn launches into a very dramatic tale about a haunted armoire that the shop acquired a few years ago, and I swear Linny keeps inching closer to me.

I’m not sure I can prove that , but I can prove that her hand soon comes to rest on my thigh.

I at first think it’s an accident or a momentary gesture of her trying to communicate something, but she leaves it there throughout the meal.

I like that her hand is there, as though she is laying claim to me.

Since no one at the table can see it, it feels like something private. Something just between us. But I glance behind us and notice someone whose eyeline would hit our backs. Someone who may be able to see her hand on my thigh. Atti. And when I look behind us, his eyes dart away.

Well, that is what I’m here for, so I can’t say that I’m surprised, but my focus droops toward her hand in disappointment.

It doesn’t matter. I place my hand on top of hers, entwining our fingers. Linny doesn’t falter for a moment as she speaks to her sister, like this was the most natural thing I could have done.

She turns to me to ask, “It was Yosemite, right?”

“Huh?”

Her hand squeezes mine. “Where you almost fell into the waterfall.”

She and Sarah were talking about me. I had zoned out, concentrating too much on someone who she perhaps didn’t realize was watching us after all. “Right. Yosemite. Got a little too close and slipped on a wet rock. Nearly busted my head along with my arse.”

“I’m glad it was just your ass.”

I bring her hand to my mouth, kissing it gently, making her lips quirk up. She turns back to her sister, but her hand stays in mine.

The speeches start before dinner is taken away.

First, Paul, the best man, then Kensie, the maid of honor, get up there to give their speeches.

Then Mel’s father. We clap and hoot and holler for them.

Finally, Mel takes the microphone and says, “Please, everyone, for the love of god, start drinking and dancing!”

Most people don’t have to be told twice. I get Linny and I each another drink, and then I drag her somewhat reluctantly to the dance floor.

“I am not wearing the right shoes for this,” she argues.

“Take them off,” I say.

“No!” she laughs out. She takes a sip of her drink, soon finding the rhythm of the music and moving with it. We dance together until our drinks are gone. I get rid of the glasses and rejoin her on the dance floor for another song. After that one finishes, she complains, “My feet hurt!”

“Take off your shoes,” I suggest again. “Kensie’s not wearing shoes anymore. You won’t be the only one.”

She looks around suspiciously but does not move to take them off. I drop to my knees before her, grabbing her ankle and lifting her foot in the air to remove the shoe. I repeat the action with the other foot, then stand back up, using the back straps to loop the heels around my wrist.

With her feet now flat on the floor, I ask, “Better?”

“Better,” she grumbles, annoyed that I was right.

However, she soon gets past it, and we’re dancing again.

At one point, I go fetch her another drink and me a water since I’m driving us home.

Then another drink for her, by her request. I’m glad she’s taking advantage of the opportunity to have a good time.

She’s been so stressed. By the time we make it off the floor, she is more than a little tipsy, the lightweight.

We both sit down heavily in chairs at our empty table, though Chelsea soon joins us. She’s on her phone talking to her two-year-old and her husband, who are still back in New York, leaving us in our own little bubble.

Linny props her foot up on my legs and whines, “My feet still hurt.”

I chuckle to myself and proceed to massage her foot as she makes adorable, happy little whimpers.

Out of nowhere, Atti walks up to us and says, “I heard a rumor.”

Linny groans and says to me, “If we’re really still, he may not be able to see us.”

Atti does not take that hard and instead says, “I heard your mother say to your father that you two are not really dating. Who would do that? Pretend to date? Seems a little sad.”

I stiffen, ready to say something in retort of that, but Chelsea beats me to it, holding her phone away from her ear. “Atticus, he is literally massaging her feet. People don’t do that for people they’re not in a relationship with.”

I figure that may settle it, but Linny laughs.

“Ben would. Ben’s the nicest person ever.

” Okay, maybe she’s a little more drunk than I thought.

I figure she’ll end it there, but she keeps talking after she takes another sip of her drink.

“We’re not dating!” she pronounces. “We lied because we’re liars.

But I don’t care because Ben is my friend and I like Ben. ”

Atti tsks like he’s going to scold her. The absolute wanker. “Why would you lie, Linny? Like I said, it’s sad.”

She snorts. “We’re not sad. You’re sad. You’re pathetic.

You let little bullshitty things embarrass you.

Like blind people. Who’s embarrassed by blind people?

You, that’s who. Ableist garbage face.” She leans back in her chair and says, “I don’t know.

I wanted a friend, and I wanted to show you I was lovable.

Not because I wanted you to love me again, ’cause no way, but because I wanted to prove it to myself, and Ben did that.

Ben made me know I’m lovable. And I am. I am so goddamn loveable. ”

I smile, pressing a kiss to her toes because that’s all I can reach. “Damn right you are, sugar.” To Atti, I say, “It might be time to walk away.”

He stands there, stunned. But he does not walk away. And because he does not walk away, Linny keeps talking. “And even though we’re not dating, his dick was in my mouth last night.”

Chelsea snorts loudly from across the table, coughing up her wine. “I have to go,” she wheezes into her phone.

And then I hear Harry say, “I clearly walked up at the wrong moment.” He looks at Atticus and says, “Arsehole,” then takes his seat with Sarah by his side.

I’d think Linny would be done speaking, but she keeps going. “And not only was his dick in my mouth, I really wanted it in my mouth.” She cups a hand around her lips like she’s going to whisper something to me, but says at full volume, “I want it other places too.”

My shoulders shake as I attempt to contain myself.

She drops the hand. “Atti, I don’t think I ever wanted your dick in my mouth. Like it was fine. I was happy to assist, but I didn’t fantasize about it. I fantasized about Ben’s dick in my mouth and once it was, I was thrilled.” She looks at me. “Right, Benny? I was thrilled.”

I clear my throat, caught between wanting to show off to Atti and being fully aware that Linny’s father is also looking at me expectantly. “Sugar, this might be a private conversation that we can have later.”

She sighs and leans back again. “He could tell I was thrilled after he stuck his hand between my legs. But, Atti, do you know how rare it is to fantasize about having a dick in your mouth? For me, at least.” She looks at me again.

“Ben, are there any dicks you’ve fantasized about having in your mouth? ”

I reply, “A few.”

“But not Atti’s dick?”

I glance up at him and say, “Definitely not.”

“See, Atti just doesn’t have a fantasizable dick. I think it’s his personality.” She looks up at him and rears back in faux surprise. “Oh my god. You’re still standing there. I didn’t see you.” Then she cackles to herself.

I give her foot a squeeze before I stand up. “That’s enough for now.” I place a hand firmly on Atti’s shoulder. “Let me walk you back to your table.” He shakes me off and storms away.

“Fucking prick,” Harry and I say together. Then I direct my attention back to Linny. “Likely time to head home.”

She groans. “Finally. I am so tired.” She hops up, shoes forgotten on the ground beside her chair. She gives her family hugs one by one, promising to see them all tomorrow. She spots her mum across the room and jogs over to her to say goodbye as I bend to grab her shoes and go fetch our coats.

I help her put her coat on, but she refuses to put her shoes back on. When we get to the exit, I sweep her up into my arms and carry her to my car, placing her in the front seat. I loop around the car and get in as well, turning on the ignition and driving us home.

“Can I spend the night?” she asks me. “Your bed looks comfy.”

I chuckle. “I’d love for you to spend the night, but we have to go to yours and feed Oscar Wilde.”

“Shit,” she says. “You’re right. Bad cat mom.”

I park outside her building, lifting her and her bare feet out of the car and inside. I have to let her walk up the stairs on her own, though, my strength only going so far.

When we get inside her flat and Linny sees Oscar curled up on his cat tree, she shouts, “My baby!” She rushes up to him, placing kisses on his head and stroking down his back. His purring intensifies with each little head kiss he receives, practically vibrating the entire flat.

With a snicker, I usher her away from the cat and into her bathroom so she can get ready for bed while I take care of feeding him.

Once her face is washed and teeth are brushed and contacts are out, she wanders back out into the living room to plop down next to me on the couch. I hand her a glass of water, which she chugs down before thrusting the empty cup back at me.

“You should go to sleep, Lin.”

“I don’t wanna,” she whines. She reaches behind herself in an attempt to yank at the zipper on the back of her dress, but gives up after one try. She moans loudly. “I can’t get it.”

“Och, you’re a whiny drunkard, aren’t you?” I pull down her zipper. I help her back up to her feet and only take one glance at her bare back as she walks into her bedroom.

She changes into pjs and crawls into her bed, then calls me into her room like I’m not standing in the doorway. I tug the blanket up so it fully covers her, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Get some sleep,” I say.

“ You get some sleep,” she argues back. Oscar finds us, hopping up onto the bed and nestling himself by her feet.

Linny flips on her side and sighs. “This has been fun, Benny. I think I will miss you the most.” And with that nonsense, her eyes close.

Before she falls asleep, she says, “Too bad this is over.”

Right, I… Right. The wedding is done, meaning our arrangement is done. I planned to stay the night, but it’s best that I don’t. I should go. I really should go and cut myself off while I still can.

I leave her flat, closing the door and ensuring it is locked behind me, saying a goodbye I am not ready for.