Her Every Fantasy

Savvie

THE MAN I’D called my best friend until a dizzying series of events dissolved the title like sugar in hot water stared at me dispassionately. It was a good thing I’d finished my meal or I’d have lost my appetite. The look wasn’t just in his eyes. It seeped through every shrug, every curl of lips I’d once thought were the most perfectly created set of lips on earth. Every indifferent sip of excellent wine.

I looked deeper, pathetically desperate to find something else. Something more. A reminder of those semi-carefree years when we’d talk on the phone for hours, sleep for an hour and resume conversations the moment we saw one another in person.

But the man I knew had been replaced by a harder, edgier version of a Bryce Mortimer who’d been hard and edgy and cynical to start off with. I’d only fooled myself into thinking our friendship had softened those hard edges, that being around me and my eclectic family he’d believed was perfect had smoothed a few jagged spikes embedded by his family and his emotionally stunted upbringing.

More fool me.

For the longest time, I’d hoped and prayed, hinted and whispered, while silently screaming, See me. Me. Choose me.

Bryce had seen. And concluded I wasn’t enough.

Nothing and no one would ever be enough. It’d taken me far too long to accept that. Even longer to get over it. All he’d ever wanted was low-maintenance friendship, something to take the edge off his hectic social and dysfunctional family life. And stupidly, I’d forced myself to fit the mould, to be whatever I needed to be to stay in his life. Unfortunately by doing that, I’d almost lost myself. And yes, a part of me hated Bryce for it.

Well, he’d made it clear he was all about settling scores.

I had a few of my own to put to bed.

‘Truth,’ I repeated after I refused dessert and the chef had departed.

He sipped his drink, then gave a wry smile as he lowered it. ‘You’ve always been terrible at this game. You’re supposed to give me two options, remember?’

I remembered. Truth or Dare had always been our game. I’d loved it a little too much because it’d skated close to secret desires I’d tried to suppress for a long time. ‘What’s the point when you always choose dare?’

He shrugged. ‘Dares are way more exciting.’

‘Why? What’s so wrong with choosing truth every now and then?’

He tensed ever so slightly. ‘Sadly, the truth means different things to different people.’

‘Not to me, and you know that.’ He didn’t answer. Now it was my turn to tense. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Leave it.’

‘Leave what? I haven’t even asked you anything yet.’

‘Exactly,’ he replied tightly. ‘And already you’re getting bent out of shape. So let’s drop whatever it is you think you want to know before things get more fucked, shall we?’

‘More fucked? So you know things are fucked?’

He grimaced and for some reason stared at my mouth for an eternity before his gaze swept away. ‘You know the one thing I haven’t missed about you? This dog-with-a-bone inability to let things be.’

Maybe he was right and I needed to let things go. But I’d let too many things go for far too long. First by being too afraid to ever dig beneath the surface with Bryce to what I’d really wanted. Then with Dan and all the signs I should’ve heeded when things had started to go bad and he’d turned from sarcastically cruel to deliberately verbally abusive. Then the one thing I’d never thought would slip through my fingers—my friendship with Bryce.

I watched my best friend now. Correction, my ex-best friend. Outwardly, he appeared unaffected but years-long experience had taught me that his still waters ran deep and dangerous. He was also uncomfortable about something.

Something my instinct pushed me not to let go.

‘Truth,’ I demanded for a third time.

‘Fine,’ he griped, with less heat than a minute before.

‘How long have you held this…grudge?’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Three a half years, give or take.’

My heart dropped to my heels.

A large part of me had hoped he’d do the quintessential English thing and reply that of course he didn’t hold a grudge. That I was being silly. That his cold email and general attitude were my overactive imagination.

But they weren’t. His stark words landed and burrowed deep, robbing me of breath until I tightened my gut against the acute loss. Until I reminded myself that he’d absented himself, deliberately, for much longer than those three-plus years.

‘Then why am I here?’ I asked. ‘Why not tell me to piss off if you don’t care any more?’

‘Because you’ve always been as stubborn as a mule when you get an idea into your head. Anyone else who believed I was cold and distant would’ve taken their business elsewhere. Instead here you are, thinking you can turn this around. Or it because you want to lend credence to the assertion that I’m important to you?’

His tone chafed. ‘It wasn’t a lie.’

‘Yeah. Right.’

Irritation snapped my spine straight. ‘Watch it, Bryce, or you’ll seriously piss me off with that tone that suggests I’m lying. You don’t want to believe it, that’s up to you and that cynicism you wear like a second skin. I know my truth. As for the implication that I have ulterior motives for not taking my business elsewhere, you’re right. And why should I? I checked out your place before coming here. It’s perfect for my needs. So pardon me for not wanting to cut off my nose to spite my face.’

He appeared nonplussed for a moment. ‘Fine. Calm down. Are you quite done?’

‘No.’ I took a large gulp of my wine, and totally denied it was for Dutch courage, even though it was. ‘I want another truth, Bryce.’

His lips tightened but he didn’t forestall me. Just fixed those signature piercing hazel Mortimer eyes that had the uncanny ability to sink hooks into me, and waited me out.

‘Why did you come to my wedding?’

His glass clicked sharply onto the table and his tension grew. ‘You know why I came. Because you sent me a bloody gold-embossed invitation. Because I was your friend.’

‘My best friend. A best friend who never bothered to RSVP. A friend who turned up almost an hour late without so much as a phone call and then left thirty minutes after the ceremony.’

‘Right, so I’m a mannerless bastard. I’m sure you’ll find it within that over-generous heart of yours to forgive me at some point.’

‘Oh, please. You don’t give a rat’s arse whether I forgive you or not. And what’s that supposed to mean, over-generous?’

He shrugged again. ‘You were always giving to a fault. And very early on in our friendship I remember you pointing out to me that we balanced each other out because I was selfish to a fault. It stands to reason that you’ll forgive me for any atrocities, no?’

‘People change, Bryce. I’m not that gullible person you think me to be any more.’

He frowned, then pointed an index finger at me. ‘I never said you were gullible.’

I sighed. ‘You don’t have to spell it out—’

‘No, rosebud, don’t do that. Don’t put words in my mouth. You know I’d have no problem calling you gullible if I thought you were.’