Jock Royal (Jock Hard 4)
“Hey now,” I put in, feeling slighted myself. “Las Vegas is not the single dirtiest city in America…it’s maybe the third dirtiest city.”
Okay, that came out all wrong.
I should stop talking.
“I’m giving you a compliment, mate—relax. It’s a good thing. You have yourself a wife.”
Ashley runs a hand down his face, frustrated. “Listen, we—Georgia and I—the whole wedding thing was…”
A mistake.
A bad idea.
An accident.
The list goes on and on, and I wonder how he’s going to finish the sentence.
Everyone waits.
“The whole wedding thing was…is…” He falters and tries again. “The whole wedding thing is something we still have to sort out. Don’t go hitching your star to our wagon.”
“Hitching my what to your huh?” Jack laughs. “You’re daft.”
“Don’t copy me.”
“I’m not going to copy you. I just…need to be single for a time.”
Single for a time.
They’re all so polite and articulate.
We sit in the dining room for what feels like hours, talking. Ashley argues with his mother while his dad comes in and out of the room, taking phone calls then returning. Leaving again while his wife and son disagree on the state of our union.
It’s a strange place to be, sitting here listening in as if I weren’t here.
Wanting to observe.
Agreeing and disagreeing with many of the things being lobbed back and forth.
I’m tired when we finally go upstairs to Ashley’s giant bedroom. There’s a fireplace in the center, with a couch and a love seat. Two leather chairs—an entire sitting area! Dressing room off in one direction, bathroom in the other.
The bed is a dark, wooden canopy with forest green fabric, like something you’d see in a bed and breakfast, matching green wallpaper behind it on the walls.
It’s dark and masculine, everything an English bedroom should be.
And just when I think I have him all to myself…
The bedroom door blows open and Jack struts in, making himself comfortable at the foot of the bed as Ashley himself slides in on his side.
I pull the quilt up to my neck.
“Bugger off, mate—we’re knackered. Jesus, Jack, go away.”
Jack flops down on his back, ignoring both our objections. “Caroline won’t leave me alone.”
“Ugh!” Ashley buries his head beneath the covers with a groan. “No shite, mate—she’s mad. I told you that when you started dating her.”
Above the covers, I laugh.
Could I live without his brother barging in on us? Yes.
Am I enjoying his misery? Also yes.
“What should I do? She dropped in at my flat last week, just rang her way up and the doorman let her in.”
“Did you try telling the doorman she’s not allowed up anymore, you idiot?”
“Well no. That doesn’t seem very nice—Caro practically lived with me.”
My boyfriend’s snort is loud and undignified. “No, Jack, she fancies herself living in a London flat—she didn’t fancy herself living with you in the flat.” Ashley reappears, red-faced from lack of air. “Why did you finally break up with her—and don’t say my wedding.”
“Your wedding.”
“Jack! What the fuck.”
“What! When Mum told me you’d gone and tied the knot with an American girl, it made me wonder if I truly wanted to marry Caroline, and the answer was no. She’s not…” His voice trails off.
“Nice?”
“Stuff it, arsehole.”
“Well she’s not. She’s a monster and we both know it.”
I put my hand on his arm to stop him from talking—so his brother can speak.
“Sorry, Jack. You were saying? She’s not…”
“She’s not fun. Caroline isn’t fun. We haven’t laughed in ages, and all she cares about right now is social media. Her mobile is always out and she complains nonstop. I’m not saying she’s a bad person, she’s just not…”
“Pleasant to be in the same room with.”
“Ashley!” I scold him with a laugh. He needs to stop interrupting.
“We’re not the same people we were four years ago when we met.”
“Amen.” Ashley applauds, actually applauds, his slow clap echoing throughout the bedroom. “Now get the fuck out.”
His brother disregards him. “When are you moving home?”
“In a few weeks.”
Jack and I both look at him. “That soon?”
He nods. “That soon.”
Twenty-Five
Georgia
One month later…
That soon came too soon.
I miss him.
Ashley is gone and I miss my roommate.
My friend.
My husband.
Weird.
So, so weird.
We haven’t gotten the marriage annulled yet—we said we’d wait. Give it time and see how we felt after he went home to England and we had some time apart.
A long-distance relationship is not something I predicted or saw for myself; it wasn’t something I wanted.
And.
It does suck.
Twenty-Six
Ashley
Two months later…
“Jack? Do you have a second?”
I knock on the door to my brother’s bedroom.
I’ve been staying at his flat since moving home—on his sofa—not wanting to live with Dad and Mum. They’re so far out in the country, away from the hustle and bustle and the city.
Young people.
No offense to them, but they’re old.
Did I want to stay in the States with Georgia? Of course I did, but…I have to work.