Page 44 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

Linny

I lean forward in my bed with a groan. It’s been a while since I’ve been hungover and, my god, is my head pounding.

I snatch my full water bottle from my nightstand and take a sip, letting out a, “Blech,” after the first taste, my mouth disgusting.

I force myself to drink the rest of the bottle before I get up to pee.

When I do stand, I immediately sit back down, bile rushing to my throat.

I lean forward again with another groan.

My bed was empty when I awoke, which was surprising. I’m pretty sure I asked Ben to spend the night last night. Or, no, I think I asked to spend the night at his place? Did he stay here or go home? I don’t know. I feel like I would know if I got to spend another night in his arms.

“Oh god,” I say as a memory rushes back to me. I talked a lot about dicks last night. My hands cover my face. While nothing I said was particularly mortifying, or untruthful, I don’t love that I said it in front of my dad. He will never let me live that down.

Once I finally manage to get up, I wander into the bathroom.

Oscar Wilde is not too far behind me, weaving between my feet as I sit down on the toilet.

I sit there for longer than I need to, my stomach swimming.

When I finally get up, I schlump into the kitchen to give Oscar Wilde his breakfast. The scrape of the spoon in the wet food can is too loud, making my head pound even more.

I drop his bowl on the ground, then go back to my room, lying face-first on my bed.

A little while later, there is a cat loafing on my back.

When I can manage to move again, I fish my phone out from the sheets, doing my best not to disturb Oscar Wilde. I see a few texts from my sisters, my dad, Emma, and one from Ben. I open the one from him first.

BENNY: Drink water, please

But that’s it. I hate that I’m disappointed. I mean, it’s still a nice text. I heart the message, then change my mind and throw a thumbs up on there instead, hoping he did not see the heart.

I meant the heart, though. I release an audible sigh. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

There were moments last night, as there have been so many times since I’ve met him, where it was just him .

We were on the crowded dance floor, yet all I could see was him.

We were sitting at the dining table with my whole family, but he was practically under a spotlight in my vision.

Mel was actively getting married, but one glance at him sitting in the pew with my parents, and I was done for.

He was the only other person in the room.

I go through the rest of the texts. First, from Emma, confirming lunch plans for next week and making sure I’m going to yoga on Wednesday.

I say yes to both. Then I move on to the messages from my family.

I’m supposed to meet them for brunch at the hotel where the rest of the bridal party and my family are staying. In thirty minutes.

I groan for the millionth time this morning, then carefully nudge the cat off my back.

I drag myself into the shower, another day gone without washing my hair.

When I get out, I braid it in two French braids down my back.

Then I wander to the window to check the weather.

It’s sunny, so I think I should put in my contacts, even though my eyes are screaming at me not to.

I want to wear sunglasses, though. I should invest in prescription sunglasses, but switching from glasses to sunglasses sounds annoying.

I already have trouble keeping my sunglasses on in the shade, feeling my vision impaired by the change in light created by shadows.

I go back to the bathroom and put in my contacts, but I don’t bother with a stitch of makeup, not even concealer to cover the massive dark circles under my eyes.

I wasn’t planning on putting on jewelry, but I spot a bracelet I haven’t worn in a while.

I slip on the bracelet made of black tourmaline beads.

Before I leave, I fill up my water bottle so I can take it with me, then I’m off.

As I lock the door to my building, I glance at the café. Ben’s probably in there, back in the kitchen. He didn’t say anything about taking the day off today. I could go in and say good morning. Pop in just to see him. But I don’t. I instead head the other direction toward the bus stop.

It’s very sunny, so the shade is very shady. My sunglasses stay on my nose in the sun, then get pushed to my head in the shade. I wait for the bus, my stomach still swimming. Oh god. I better not vomit on the bus.

When it comes, I choose a seat by the window, leaning my head against it and focusing on my breath. If I breathe slowly, I will not vomit. I repeat that to myself over and over in my mind so my body believes it.

After the bus finally comes to a stop, I find the hotel, following my nose to the dining area. My family is at a group of tables with a few of the other guests who stayed in this hotel.

I slide into the seat next to my dad. Before I even have a chance to say hello, I feel arms around my neck from the back. I recognize the perfume, so I don’t even need to look to know it’s Mel.

“Hello, Mrs. Parker.”

She giggles in my ear. “Hiya. Where’s Ben?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” my dad says.

“The café, probably. How should I know? Do I need to remind you two that Ben and I aren’t actually dating?” I clear my throat and say loud enough for everyone to hear, “Ben Pyeon and I are not dating.” No one reacts, because everyone already knows. “It’s over, anyway.”

Chelsea chuckles into her coffee.

“What?” I ask, glaring.

She toys with a strand of her red hair, giving me a classic big sister look that says she knows more than me. “You should be dating, though. I mean, he was massaging your feet last night.”

Mel slides into the open seat beside me. “From what I hear, you have a great love of his penis.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Ew, don’t say ‘penis’ to me this early in the morning.”

My dad grimaces. “The word she used excessively last night was ‘dick.’”

“I prefer ‘dick,’” I say, then hear what I said and groan as everyone around me laughs. “And I really don’t want to talk about this with my father.”

Everyone can most likely tell I am too hungover to discuss this now, so they leave me be and let me get my food. Most of the bridal party is here, but one person is missing: Atti. I slide up next to Paul at the egg station. “Where’s the tall one? ”

Paul flashes his eyes. “Left early this morning, apparently.”

“Good,” I say.

“Yeah.” Paul turns to me. “So, you and Ben aren’t dating?”

“Nope,” I say. I take a scoop of eggs and glance at him. “If you’re interested, I can put in a good word.”

Paul chuckles. “Ben’s great, but I generally don’t go after men who are desperately in love with other people.”

I take a bagel next, before moving onto the coffee that my stomach is not prepared to drink. My head needs it badly, though. “Ah, he told you about David, then?”

Paul cocks his head. “Who’s David?”

I stare at him, confused. He doesn’t say anymore, just gives me a wink, then heads back to sit at a table with Kensie, Jen, and a couple others from the bridal party. I rejoin my family, my mother now at the table as well.

She looks me up and down and says, “Someone’s hungover. I heard you were comparing dicks last night.”

I bite into my food. With a partially full mouth, I say, “Comparing implies that there is a question of which is better”—I swallow—“when in fact the answer of which is better is obvious. Mostly because I like the human better that the better dick is attached to.”

My dad sighs into his tea. “Perhaps we could stop saying the word ‘dick’ at the breakfast table?”

“You said it first,” I remind him. I force down a sip of coffee with a grimace. “Though, I agree.”

With that request, talk of dicks stops. We finish up our breakfast, and then my family insists I show them around Edinburgh (even though they have all been here many times before).

“We want to see your Edinburgh.” Which is exactly what they said last time.

Mom and Dad together for the first time in probably three years, since Chelsea’s wedding, is weird, but they act as they always do.

As old friends who are in a petty argument that could be solved simply by sleeping together.

It’s weird having divorced parents who still love each other, but are not in love anymore.

Though, as situations like this go, I know how lucky I am.

I take them all over the city. And, while I go back and forth on it for a while, I end up taking them to Ben’s cafe. They asked to see it, so what was I supposed to say? No? I have complicated feelings for the owner that I’m not willing to face at the moment?

Isla is behind the counter when we walk in. “Hey,” I say. “It’s a Sunday. What are you doing here? Did Ben take the day off?”

“Ben’s in the kitchen,” she says carefully. Okay, my voice may have been a bit panicky. She continues, “Gemma needed the day off and I never mind working.” She glances at my family looming behind me.

“Right. Then let me start with an apology because I have brought my entire family with me.”

Half her mouth quirks up. “The more the merrier. The entire Jenkins clan!” She looks to my dad first, “What’ll you have?”

As Isla takes their orders, I slip around and head into the kitchen to see Ben. He doesn’t acknowledge me when I enter, but jumps when I place a hand on his arm. He removes a headphone from one ear and smiles when he sees me. I might be imagining it, but I swear he looks…relieved?

“Hey, sugar. Sorry—playing my music too loud. Isla has been playing moody, hipster music all day. It’s driving me mad.”

“What are you listening to?”

“Don’t make fun.” He hands me one headphone, and I slip it in my ear. The music resumes, playing Spice Up Your Life by the Spice Girls .

I bite my lip. “Why would I tease you? This is a great song.”

“I’ve been listening to their entire discography.”

“Okay, that may be a little excessive.”

“Hard disagree.” He removes the headphone from my ear and slips them both into the pocket of his jeans. “How’s your head?”

“Pounding.”

“Did you drink water?”

“Yes. Thank you for filling up my water bottle. And for taking care of me.”

“It’s my favorite thing to do.” There’s a heavy pause before he says, “So, what’s up? Just wanted to see me?”

My dad’s loud laugh echoes from the front in answer.

“Ah, they nagging you about coming here?”

“Nonstop. You do not have to come out and greet them. They wanted to see the place, and we were stopping by mine to say hello to Oscar anyway. I can tell them you’re busy.” I poke him on the arm in an attempt at nonchalance. “This is over between us anyway.”

His eyes darken. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”

I squint back at him. “Everyone on my side knows we were lying. The wedding is over. Unless you need me for something with David?”

“I don’t need you for David anymore.”

“Are you…I mean, are you still…?”

“Erm, well.” He looks at me seriously. “Lin, I really like you. I want to—” He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I shouldn’t say that. It’s not fair.”

I purse my lips, desperate to ask for the end of that sentence, but knowing it’s best if I don’t hear more.

“Our hearts aren’t ready,” I offer softly. His is stuck on someone else, and mine? Mine has too many holes to hold anyone inside.

Ben shakes his head, but I can’t tell whether or not he’s agreeing with me. “Can we still be friends?” he asks quietly.

I chew my lip to keep it from wobbling. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Maybe…maybe this should be our goodbye.”

His throat bobbles, and he gives one stiff nod. “I can never say goodbye to you, Linny.”

“Ben…”

“No, I mean, you work and live right next door. We’ll see each other all the time.”

I heave out a laugh. “God, okay. Way to take the dramatics out of it.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, sorry. I usually live for the dramatics.”

He holds out a hand for me to shake, and I nearly cry at the sight. The hand that has held mine now a countless number of times, the hand that has brushed my hair behind my ears, wiped away my tears, been inside of me. After all that, I only get a handshake.

I take that hand in mine anyway. “See you soon, then.”

“See you on the streets, Melinda.” He winks.

“On the streets ?”

“Yeah, like outside the café and your shop.”

I frown. “Please, never stop being you.” I finally drop his hand, feeling a bit of my soul drop with it. Before I can say anything else, I rejoin my family, spitting out some lie about how he literally cannot walk away from whatever he is baking right now.

I may attempt to keep it so our streets don’t cross again. It will be easier that way.