Page 45 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

Ben

When Linny’s family takes off, Isla comes into the kitchen and throws a muffin at me. I catch it before dropping it on the counter.

“Why were you hiding back here?” she asks.

“I was busy,” I lie.

Her eyes meet the ceiling. “Sure.” She leans against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of her loose trousers. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. We just…” I can’t say broke up , because that’s not what we did.

We just stopped. We are no more. The terms of our agreement have expired.

It all went kaput. “We’re finished with the whole fake relationship thing,” I finally land on.

“There was no need for me to come say hello to her family.”

Isla jerks her head. “So, I can tell Rachel now? I mean, I’ll ask that she keep it from David.”

“I don’t care,” I say honestly. “At this point, I couldn’t care less who finds out. David can find out, and it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, good, because Rachel already knows.” I’m not even surprised. Isla purses her lips. “Are you okay? I know you fancy her. ”

“I more than fancy her.” I drag a hand down my face. “But yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure you don’t want to try for real with her?”

“There’s no point. It’s not what she wants.”

Isla looks doubtful. “If you say so. My only request is that you stop breaking up with people I like. Your next person should be unlikable so I don’t get attached.”

“I’ll make sure I hate them so you can too.” We shake on it, then she pivots out of the room, heading back up front to wait on a customer who just walked in.

I cannot believe I shook Linny’s hand. I shook her hand like I didn’t even know her. It’s just, I thought about hugging her and smelling that citrus scent I love so much. The idea of it alone was enough to break me. I couldn’t let her see me broken. I’ve only just begun to repair.

…

Nearly a week goes by, and I don’t see Linny once. Trust me, I’m looking for her, but I think she is doing everything in her power to avoid me. Likely for the best, though. Seeing her would hurt in ways I can’t even begin to describe.

I’ve gone back to using my old soap so I don’t smell like her anymore, but that hasn’t stopped me from popping the cap and taking a deep whiff of her body wash every time I enter my bathroom. I can’t bring myself to throw it away.

After I leave the café on Friday, I’m back home lounging on my couch and scrolling endlessly on my phone. I come across a cute cat video and am tempted to send it to Linny, but hold myself back.

Now that I’m thinking about her (like I even stopped), I read the last text I sent: Drink water please . She hearted it at first, but changed it to a thumbs up, probably hoping that I didn’t notice. I noticed.

I toss my phone to the side only to immediately pick it back up, in need of a distraction. I text David.

ME: You working tonight?

DAVID: Till close. You want to stop by?

ME: Aye. I’ll see you in 30

I force myself up to put real trousers back on and change out of the stained T-shirt I’m wearing with the café’s logo on the chest. I mess with my hair a bit, fussing over a new silver strand that will not settle down, this close to plucking it out. Ergh. The bar is dark. No one will notice.

I leave my flat, finally deciding to walk to Hoot. When I get there, I head down the familiar staircase, push my way through the door, and slide into a seat in front of David, who is cosplaying as a classic bartender, wiping out glasses with a little rag.

“Hey, man,” he says. “Want anything?”

“Death,” I say, naming one of their signature cocktails. I lean my chin on my hand as I watch him make my drink. He slides it over to me, and I take a slow sip. “Thanks.”

“You doing alright? How’s Linny?”

The person I came here to stop thinking about. That lasted, what? Two minutes?

“Fine, I assume.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Shit. Did you guys break up?”

I hang my head and confess, “We were never dating in the first place.” And there we have it. Everyone who thought we were together now knows we were not. A surprising weight leaves my shoulders .

“What does that mean?”

“It means you assumed I was dating her at the café, I let you believe it, she needed me to pretend to be her boyfriend for a joint hen and stag do because her ex is the devil, and I asked her to come to dinner with us as my girlfriend, then we just kept pretending.”

He sets a glass down with a heavy clink . “Why would you do that?”

“To prove to you that I wasn’t in love with you anymore.”

“Were you still?”

“Yes.”

He stiffens, asking carefully, “Are you still?”

I assess him thoroughly. The perfect line of his jaw with a light, sharply cut stubble, his strong hands splayed on the bar, the bright orange shirt he wears that practically glows in the dark.

“No,” I say honestly, surprising myself. “I’m not.” I laugh, giddy. “I’m not in love with you anymore. I mean, hey, I still love you, but I’m not in love with you anymore.”

Another patron hears that as he approaches the bar and pivots away, saying, “Tough break, mate.”

“Aye, tough break! Christ almighty, David, I’m over you!

” I keep laughing. I’m sure I look like I’ve gone doolally, spinning around on my bar stool, but I don’t care.

I feel so free. I still love him, but in the way I used to.

As a friend. As my brother. My love for him has shifted back to where it should have stayed.

David grins. “Your excitement over this is somewhat insulting.”

“Good. Be insulted. Your go for that.” I laugh still. “Bloody hell. I mean, look at you, gorgeous, perfect, wonderful man, but everything I felt, it’s gone. I don’t know where it went. I don’t know when it went, but it’s gone. ”

David’s hands clench on the bar. “Does this mean we can go back to normal?”

“We can,” I say. “We really, really can.”

“You’re going to make jokes about the fact that you were in love with me for the rest of our lives, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“If you make those jokes in mixed company, you might make people uncomfortable.”

“Why? Because of the explicit homoeroticism I’ll work into every conversation?”

“No, I think they’ll be down with the homoeroticism.”

Someone slides into the seat next to me. Rachel.

She grimaces slightly. “I’ve been standing back there for a bit. I wanted to give you guys your space, but then I felt like I was in the way. And your conversation was starting to get weird.”

“You heard all that?” I ask.

“Yeah.” She lowers her voice. “Isla told me about you and Linny.”

“Oh,” I say, at a normal volume. “Yeah, the fake relationship. Wild thing to do, right? I told David.”

Rachel squints. “I meant the breakup.”

“‘Breakup,’” I correct with air quotes, though my chest aches as though there were no air quotes.

“Where is Isla, by the way?” David asks.

“Her place working on a song. I got kicked out so she could concentrate, but she’s been texting me since I left, so I assume she’ll be here as well soon enough.”

“Good deal. Callum is heading over as well.” David directs his attention back to me. “So, when did the thing with Linny go from fake to real?”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean? ”

He and Rachel exchange a look. “You’re completely obsessed with her,” he says.

“I’m not obsessed .”

“No,” Rachel agrees. “You’re in love with her.” She says that like it’s an established fact.

I look between them. “I-I care about her a lot. I felt myself falling, but I never…landed.”

David scoffs. “Okay, and that long-winded rant you gave me about how amazing she is at the football match was, what? You trying to match my energy with how I talk about Callum?”

I scoff back, leaning my forearms on the bar to address him. “No, but how can I not rant about how amazing she is? Have you met her? Have you seen her?” I shake my head. “Sorry, I directed that last bit at the wrong person.” To Rachel, I repeat, “Have you seen her?”

“Yes, I’ve seen her,” Rachel says flatly. “I’ve also seen you interact with her.”

“Same,” David agrees. “You’re in love with her.” He picks up a rogue lime and tosses it in the bin behind the bar.

I huff. “How would you know?”

“I have eyes, man.”

Rachel sighs and says, “Let’s work this out the long way. How do you feel when you see her? Think about her? Anything.”

“Happy,” I say without thought. “But love is about more than happiness. I mean”—I hook a thumb toward David—“when I was head over heels for this guy, it was devastating.”

Her hands wring together as she glances at David, whose stance has gone stark straight.

I hate to admit it, but I find a bit of joy in making him uncomfortable like this.

Quietly, Rachel says, “Because it was unrequited, Ben. When love is mutual, it doesn’t hurt.

Not the love itself, at least. The simple act of loving and being loved is joyful. ”

I shake my head, even though she may be right. Okay. Fine. So, I fell all the way. I’m in love with Linny, but…

“That doesn’t matter. She doesn’t love me back.

” I grasp my drink with both hands, the condensation chilling them through.

“I can’t…I can’t do that again. Confess my feelings only to get rejected.

It took me forever to get over that buff genius.

If I move on from Linny now, I don’t have to deal with that again. ” I stare down into the glass.

David cuts in, “I do enjoy how you keep referencing me like I’m not standing right here, but I have to say, I think you’re already dealing with it, Ben. You decided it was over before you gave it a chance to start.”

With a tentative hand, Rachel touches my arm.

“Listen, I think you’ve come to associate love with hurt.

That is why you thought you were in love with David for as long as you did.

Because every time you saw him or thought about him, you felt pain.

Not because you still loved him, but because of how him not loving you made you feel.

Love shouldn’t hurt like that, Ben. Especially when the person you love loves you in the same way. ”

“Oof,” David whispers.