The Love Club

Eleven

After two hours in the car, I’m itching to find solid ground beneath my feet again. I usually like to drive in silence, but I didn’t get much sleep last night and have resorted to the staticky noise of the radio as I speed down the motorway in the direction of my parents’ house. 

My stomach rumbles again and I glance down at it. I haven’t eaten, either.

Duncan hasn’t responded to any of my texts.

I can’t say I really blame him. I definitely made things weird last night, but of course that wasn’t my intention. Desperate for a buffer, I’d taken advantage of Harry’s sudden appearance in my flat, and I think despite his goodbye kiss on the cheek, he’s taken the time to figure that out.

I might have unintentionally broken my best friend’s heart. The guilt weighs heavily on my chest like a stone.

I’ve no longer pulled into the driveway of my parents’ house that my dad and Felicity have the door pulled open and are standing on the front porch. I want to roll my eyes, but I know they’ve only missed me and are eager to see me. As I put the car in park, Felicity rushes around to the passenger seat to grab whatever dish I’ve insisted on bringing. Tonight it’s only honey buttered rolls, picked up on the way from my favorite bakery. Nonetheless, she lifts the bag from the seat and closes the door with her free hand, sending me a smile and promising to hug me inside. I’m about to make my response when I feel a strong pair of arms lock around me and lift me from the ground.

I can’t help but giggle as my dad spins me like I’m seven years old again. When I start to feel dizzy, he sits me back down and I grin up at him just before he places a lingering kiss to my forehead.

“I missed you,” he tells me softly. I hug him tighter, my long spaghetti arms wrapped around his midsection.

“I missed you, too,” I tell him in earnest.

“No you didn’t,” he accuses. I pull back to examine his face and he offers me a wink, nothing but warmth. “But it’s okay. You were in good hands.”

I’m not sure what to make of that comment, so I only follow him into the house. I slip off my shoes and sink into the rug, never happier to see that old broken grandfather clock as I am now. The rich smell of my favorite meal has overtaken the house, and I follow my nose in the direction of the kitchen where Felicity is stirring a pot on the stove top. 

She glances over her shoulder when she sees me, sighs dramatically, and sets down her spoon. I’m ready to recieve her when she turns and crosses the room toward me, engulfing me in a tight hug. After a few moments, she wrangles her way out of my grasp and goes back to the stove. I smile at her charade, as if she’s put out by seeing me when I know she might have actually missed me more than dad.

“Supper’s finished if you want to help me carry some things to the table,” she calls to me over her shoulder. I pick up a serving bowl full of green beans and my honey buttered rolls before heading in the direction of the dining room table. Both Felicity and my father are quick to follow, setting everything down in the center of the table. A few minutes later, we begin to dig in. 

I know they’re both dying to hear about tour, but I haven’t yet figured out what it is I want to say about it. It occurs to me that it may be best to focus on the business side of it all, but I also know they’ll be more interested in the personal relationships I’ve developed along the way.

As if on que, my phone vibrates in my pocket. 

I sigh before getting to work stabbing at a couple of green beans. I know exactly who is texting me, and it only makes me feel uneasy when I remember the rest of the night.