So I let him enjoy my embarrassment. And I enjoyed the way his side was pressed against mine. Fair trade.
3
Garrick
I WAS STILL a bit bleary-eyed as we waited through the long line for immigration, then picked up our bags, and passed through customs. Bliss vaulted between exuberance and silence, more of the latter, as we got closer to our final destination.
Outside the airport, I tucked Bliss under my arm, needing to feel her, to feel some sort of control as her panic began to bleed into me. I was halfheartedly trying to flag down a taxi to take us to my parents’ place in Kensington when I heard someone shout, “Taylor! Garrick Taylor! Look over here, you prat!”
Bliss had already stopped and was staring at two idiots down the pavement, yelling and waving their arms. The first idiot had dark skin and a buzzed head that had been covered in dreads the last time I’d seen him. That would be Rowland. And paired with the second idiot, Graham, who looked enough like me to pass for my brother (a scam we’d used more than once when we were kids), they meant trouble.
I passed a hand through my hair and smiled. “Bloody hell.”
What in the world were they doing here?
“Friends of yours?” Bliss asked.
“Very old friends.”
Bliss and I turned around our luggage and barely made it a few meters before Rowland was tackling me.
“Ricky!” he yelled, messing with my hair.
I heard Bliss say, “Ricky?” over my shoulder before I shoved Rowland off. Glaring, I said, “That nickname wasn’t okay in secondary, and it isn’t okay now.”
Graham said, “Oh, come on, brother. At least let him have a little fun. You’ve not visited in ages. Though I can see why.”
I didn’t have to look to know he was staring at Bliss. Not only did Graham and I look alike—tall, blond hair, blue eyes—but we had the same taste in women. I had mostly been joking with her earlier about finding another guy, but now it wasn’t so funny. I shook my head at him and pulled her closer to me.
“Bliss, these two gits are my old mates, Rowland and Graham. We came up together. And this is my fiancée, Bliss.”
God, it felt good saying that.
“Her name is Bliss? Or is that your nickname for her because she’s really good in—”
“Rowland,” I warned.
He shrugged and shot Bliss a cheeky smile. She was grinning at both of them, her cheeks a brilliant red. And as good as it was to see them, I was not even remotely keen on sharing her.
I asked, “What are you lot doing here?”
Rowland said, “We phoned your dad and told him to tell your mum that your flight had been delayed by a few hours.”
“Why would you do that?”
Graham grinned in Bliss’s direction and said, “Because we wanted to meet your girl . . . before your mum tore her to pieces.”
I saw the blood drain from her face, and she went from red to white in seconds. Well, there went the last of her calm.
“Garrick!” Her hand connected with my arm, and then again with my chest.
Throwing a glare at Graham, I caught her hands and pulled her close.
“He’s joking, love. It’s all going to be fine.”
Please let it be fine.
“Or after a few pints with us, it will be, anyway,” Rowland cut in.
“It’s the middle of the day,” I said.
Rowland shrugged. “We’ll make sure there’s some food had somewhere in there.”
Bliss had her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at me. She looked so bloody hot when she was angry that I almost didn’t mind.
I said, “Thank you both for coming. And for managing to piss my future bride off in record time. But it was a long flight. I should probably just get Bliss home.”
When I reached, her hand flitted out of my range and then came back to poke me in the chest. “Oh no you don’t, Mr. Taylor.” I heard Rowland laugh behind me. She continued, “You are not depriving me of the chance to gather some much needed liquid courage or to question your friends.”
Graham whistled. “I like this one.”
That much was uncomfortably clear.
I met her eyes, and she wasn’t backing down. I pressed my lips together into a thin line, but her eyebrows just rose in answer.
“Fine. Okay.” I turned to my old friends and added, “One drink. With food. One hour. That’s it.” They held up innocent hands in surrender, and started leading us down the pavement.
Over his shoulder, Graham said, “Damn, Taylor. Did teaching suck all the fun out of you?”
“Something got sucked while he was teaching.”
I shoved Rowland from behind, and he launched forward several feet, cackling.
“What?” Bliss asked. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. Just being a prick.”
Rowland kept his distance as he led us to the same old Peugeot he’d been driving the last time I’d lived in London nearly eight years ago. It was funny how little some things and some people changed.
I’d changed . . . that much was for sure. In turns, I’d been just as elitist and judgmental as my parents or I’d rebelled and battled that with tremendous levels of stupidity and trouble. It was only in the last two years that I’d started to feel like I’d finally found a reasonable middle ground. I could only pray to find something similar today with my parents. I could only pray that this whole trip wouldn’t blow up in my face.