Blindsided

by Amy Daws

  “They what?”

  I nod excitedly and join him on the sofa. “It was the weirdest thing. They called me downstairs before I left for the day and asked me to give them my pitch. At first I was like…what, you guys are mental…then I was like, nope, not going to listen to that lying, insecure voice in the back of my head anymore.”

  “That’s dead brilliant!” Mac says, the first glimpse of a genuine smile on his face that I’ve seen since we returned to London. “So what happened?”

  “I showed them my sketches and they loved them! And they love my Instagram page and they think Hercules could be the face of the line and they think the line should be called Pleasantly Plump Pets and they’re talking about converting my upstairs alteration area into the pet boutique and leasing property elsewhere and hiring another seamstress and bleddy hell, this might actually be happening. I could actually be a proper designer!”

  I reach into my bag and pull out the bottle of champagne I picked up on my way home. “We need to celebrate!”

  “Absolutely!” Mac says, grabbing the bottle from my hands and taking it into the kitchen.

  I follow him in, still rambling on and on about how the meeting went. I think I might be repeating myself but I can’t help it. I’m just too excited for original words.

  Mac pours us two kitten mugs of bubbly and holds his cup out to me, his tall frame bowing over me as he smiles fondly down on me. “Cheers to you, Cookie. I knew you had it in you.”

  We clink our mugs and take a sip while I let that comment of his really sink in. Mac did know. I think he’s always known and if it weren’t for him, I may have never even had the confidence to say I had ideas to share with Sloan and Leslie. This moment, standing here with him in my kitchen, celebrating a success with someone I care so deeply about…it’s surreal.

  “What’s the matter?” Mac asks, reaching out and rubbing his thumb along a wet trail down my cheek that I hadn’t realised was there. “This is happy news. Why the tears?”

  “I know it’s happy news,” I state, sniffing loudly and holding his hand to my face. “I just can’t help but feel like none of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.”

  “Me?” he asks, gazing back at me with an incredulous stare. “Cookie, this was all you.”

  His features soften as he continues to tenderly caress my cheek like he’s done it his whole life. And the way his eyes crinkle in the corners as he gazes down at me is making it really hard to stop these bleddy tears.

  My fingers fist his shirt as I try to figure out how to explain how he makes me feel. “Ever since you and I started spending more time together, you’ve pushed me in ways I’ve never been pushed before. And you got me to see my sketches as more than just a hobby that I didn’t have time for. Being with you has given me confidence in myself that I’ve never had before. Mac, I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life.”

  I reach out and grab Mac’s mug to set it down on the counter with mine before wrapping my hands around his thick neck. I stare up, relishing in the size and beauty of him as he gazes down at me with a twinkle of pride in his eyes. I want him to look at me like this forever.

  That thought propels me into yanking him down onto my lips. This isn’t a gentle, ease yourself into the swimming pool inch by inch sort of kiss. It’s a cannon ball off a diving board and sinking down to the bottom of oblivion kiss as our tongues thrash against each other and I allow myself to kiss him with wanton abandon as we swallow each other’s moans.

  Mac’s hands wrap around my waist and glide down over my arse, cupping it firmly as he pulls me into his hard groin. The possessive embrace surrounds me with his delicious, manly scent that I want all over my body. My hands greedily mimic his, pulling him tighter against me. It’s a claiming of sorts as my hands slide over the delicious strength of him. It’s not enough. I need more.

  God, I want this man. My best friend, whom I am madly in love with, and whom I think might be in love with me too. That thought causes a shiver to run through my body because is it possible? Could I really have this? This kind of deep, soul-shaking love?

  Emotions overwhelm me, and before I know it, we’re moving out of the kitchen and down the hall, clumsily stripping off our clothes the entire way. Our mouths are fused together like if we break apart, we won’t be able to breathe without the other’s lips and yet still, I crave more of him.

  We’re naked by the time we reach my bed, and when I lay on my back and wait for him to crawl on top of me, it feels like the first time all over again. What different people we both were that night. Me, scared and insecure, him, slow and careful. Now, we move together like one, both of us knowing each other’s bodies so acutely, all it takes is a single touch to set our hearts on fire.

  Mac holds himself over me as he devours my breasts while my fingers thread wildly through his lush hair. His lips move down over my belly as he drags his silky tongue over my flesh and eventually up my neck like he can’t get enough of me, either. The kisses are driving me absolutely insane, and if he doesn’t push inside me soon, I’m going to lose my mind.

  “I need you, Mac,” I pant, pulling him up to my lips and kissing him hard and fast. “I need you inside me. Now.”

  He looks down as I wrap my fist around his length and position him at my centre. A deep, guttural noise from his mouth vibrates my chest as he watches himself disappear inside of me inch by glorious inch. His thickness makes me feel tight and full as he seats himself deep inside of me, my body a perfect mould for his in every way.

  I pump my hips up into him, needing to feel friction, needing to climb this build that’s growing rapidly inside of me. Mac’s fingers lace with mine as he presses my hands against the bed, preventing me from touching him as he thrusts into me and continues to watch our bodies connect.

  It feels good, but it’s not enough. I need more. I need him.

  “Mac, look at me,” I pant, my voice coarse and dripping with desire. I want him to see what he does to me. How he makes me feel.

  He ignores me, continuing to drive into me like my pelvis is his only concern.

  “Mac,” I exclaim, my thighs tightening around his hips to stop his motions.

  His head jerks up, his green eyes searching on mine.

  “I want you to look at me,” I state firmly, my inner voice stretching her muscles.

  A pained look flits across his face and is gone in a matter of seconds.

  But I saw it.

  I saw that doubt, that hesitation. That…regret?

  What was that? Where is his head right now? What is he thinking about?

  Mac looks down again at our bodies, but that memory of his face chips away at a part of my soul.

  “Mac,” I whisper his name as I pull my hands free from his grasp. I reach up and cup his face, forcing him to look at me as I croak out, “Why won’t you look at me?”

  He shakes his head like I’m making this up.

  I tighten my hold on his face. “Why?” I ask again, my voice breaking at the end. “What’s wrong with me?” Damn that lying cunt.

  “Nothing, Freya,” he says, his gaze bending with emotion as his eyes flick between mine. “There is nothing wrong with you.” His mouth tilts up into a crooked smile. “You’re my best mate.”

  His words hit me deep in my soul, and they are confirmation that this is more than just sex between us. This is a building of an unbreakable bond that goes even deeper than love.

  Mac stares boldly into my eyes as he moves slowly inside me, careful, appreciative, and searching. Searching for the last part of our souls that still belong to ourselves. I gaze back at him with the same sense of wonder coursing through my entire body.

  This is love. This is us. This is happiness.

  Suddenly, he begins driving into me harder and faster, his fingers digging into my flesh as his eyes laser focus on mine. He’s looking at me, but his face is changed. It’s haunted somehow as he reveals a part of him that I didn’t know existed. A dark, naked part t
hat is raw and vulnerable, even to me.

  It’s intense.

  It’s what I wanted, but it’s more than I expected.

  “Freya,” Mac says my name on a groan that vibrates straight to my core, his forehead lowering to press against mine. “God, Freya. You mean so much to me.”

  “Mac,” I cry out his name because his words push my body over the edge, forcing me to clench down hard on him, and then release into shuddering waves of pleasure.

  His face falls into my neck as he prepares to pull out of me.

  “Just stay in,” I beg, linking my ankles behind his back to hold him inside of me. A painful sense of desperation overwhelms me like if I let him out now, I may never get him back. “I want you to come inside me.”

  Mac pulls back, his eyes puzzled on mine. “Are you sure? Are we okay to do that?”

  I nod. “Yes, we’re covered, and I want to feel you. All of you.”

  Mac’s mouth opens, and his lips descend onto mine as his entire body tenses over top of me, and he groans out his release inside me. It’s an intimate sensation, one I didn’t realise I would enjoy so much as I hold him against my body and relish in the frantic pounding of his heart against mine. I want this. I want this and more, and hopefully, this is just the start.

  My voice is stiff and all business when I sit down across from Santino in his office at Bethnal Green F.C. “I want to officially open up negotiations for me to be transferred to Rangers football club.” I swallow the painful sentence that I never imagined I would ever say, and then add, “My agent has spoken with their manager, and they are interested, for the right price.”

  Santino sits back in his chair, his dark, gelled hair shiny in the overhead lighting. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  I clear my throat and do my best to grind out through clenched teeth, “My decision is final.”

  Santino gapes at me like I have two heads and then blinks rapidly as he props his elbows on his desk. “Why on earth would you give up Premier League to go to Glasgow? Our club is doing brilliantly. We nearly won the FA Cup this past season, and with the new players we’ve acquired this year, it’s ours to win.”

  That reminder sends a pang of regret through my stomach, because despite the confidence I have in my decision, walking away from the team that I have come to see as my family just as we’re beginning to peak is fucking torture. “It’s personal.”

  Santino levels me with a glare. “How personal could it be? Did you get some lass in the Highlands up the duff? I’m telling you, mate, we can take care of her from London.”

  Blind rage shoots through my body. “You have a lot of fucking nerve to make that kind of joke to me, of all people.”

  Santino blanches, losing all humour on his face, like he somehow forgot about everything that happened only three years ago. He swallows slowly and exhales through his nose. “Look, Maclay, I know you hate my guts for events of the past. But for the past three years, I’ve stayed out of your way, and you’ve stayed out mine. Let’s not get personal now.”

  “You didn’t stay out of my way when you decided to ask out my best fucking friend,” I bark, willing myself not to jump over this table and beat him to a bloody pulp.

  We eye each other silently for a moment before Santino replies, “I didn’t know how close you and Freya were. None of the team had a clue of your involvement with her, either. Trust me when I tell you, that had I known, I would have stayed as far away from her as humanly possible.”

  My nostrils flare. “I wish you would have done me the same courtesy with regard to my sister.”

  Santino’s eyes narrow. “You don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to Tilly and me.”

  “I know everything I need to know.”

  “You don’t,” Santino growls, his hands clenching into fists on his desk. “What happened between us was a complicated mistake.”

  “A mistake that you wanted to fucking end,” I growl, gripping the arms of the chair like I could turn the wood into dust.

  Santino sits back and shakes his head. “You don’t know the full story, and I’m not going to tell you. That too is personal, and I don’t owe you anything, Maclay. I owe your sister a lot.”

  “Is that why you sent fucking money to Scotland so she could have an abortion at a private clinic, you bloody bastard?” I growl, standing up and shoving my chair back.

  Santino stands as well, his dark eyes slits as he stares back at me. “I did what I thought was right.”

  “You did what was convenient for you!” I snap, my upper lip curling up in disgust. “Had she not miscarried, what were you going to do then? Force her to end that wee bairn’s life? What kind of fucking monster are you?”

  Santino inhales a shaky breath. “This is none of your business.”

  “My sister and my family are one hundred percent my business.”

  “Then talk to her about it,” Santino growls, losing his steely composure for the first time since I arrived.

  “She pretends it never happened,” I exclaim and shake my head at him in disgust. “Whatever mindfuck shite you did to her changed her, and for that, I will hate you until the day I fucking die.”

  The two of us stand, eye to eye, breathing heavily while the tension vibrates between us.

  “What do you want from me?” Santino asks, his face looking desperate for the first time since I walked in here.

  “I need you to make this transfer to Scotland happen with Vaughn.”

  I can’t stomach the idea of facing my manager, Vaughn, and telling him about my decision to leave. In fact, I can’t even bring myself to tell Roan yet. As much as I know this is the right decision for me, I know that anybody who cares about me would try to talk me out of it. Hell, even the Harris Brothers would probably band together and do one of their ridiculous Harris Brother Shakedowns.

  But the truth is, this is what’s best for my family and me. And I’ll never regret gifting my grandad his one dying wish.

  “Maclay, if I’m going to bring Vaughn on board with this crazy idea, I’m going to need some information.”

  My jaw clenches, and the muscle in my cheek tics with agitation. Knowing that I probably can’t get away with not sharing something, I reply, “My grandad and I are very close. I just found out he’s sick, and it’s his dying wish to see me in a Ranger kit.”

  Santino’s brows drop. “Shit.”

  “Yeah, shit,” I reply, clearing my throat and pinning him with a serious glower. “I just need you to do your lawyer thing and make Vaughn believe this transfer is for the best. I know him. He’s going to try to act all fatherly with me, but my mind is made up. And after everything you’ve done to my family, this deal is literally the least you can fucking do.”

  Santino stares back at me for a long moment like he wants to argue. Like he wants to stop me from doing this, even though I hate him and being farther away from him would be best for both of us. But then he nods and says, “Fine. It’s your career, I suppose.” He steps back and slides his hands into his pockets. “I’ll talk to Vaughn, and we’ll get this deal done one way or another. Further negotiations will be made between your agent and us, so you and I need not communicate any further.”

  “Thank fuck for that,” I grind out and turn to walk out of his office. I pause as I hold the doorknob and turn back to look at him. “And it goes without saying that you’ll stay the fuck away from Freya after I leave.”

  Santino shakes his head. “Just go.”

  “I need to hear you say it.” I turn on my heels to eye him again. This is the one thing I’m most terrified about leaving behind in London, and I need to have some form of comfort when it comes to her, or I don’t know if I’ll be able to go through with all of this. “The Harris Brothers assure me you’re a man of your word, so say the fucking words.”

  Santino exhales heavily and levels me with a glare. “I’ll stay away from Freya.”

  With a sound nod, I turn and walk out of his office and away from B
ethnal Green F.C., possibly for good.

  Last night was the first night Mac and I didn’t stay together since our arrangement began. Allie and Roan wanted to be separated the night before their wedding, so Allie came to mine, and Mac went back to his. I missed him more than I should admit. It’s incredible how, in only a matter of a couple of weeks, I’ve become so completely dependent on his warmth in my bed. My, how things have changed.

  Now, we’re hours away from walking down the aisle together, and I feel an overwhelming sense of anxiety niggling away at me over seeing Mac again. It’s almost like I’m terrified that spending one night apart is going to break this spell we’re under, and he’s going to look at me and realise what a mistake he’s made in being with me. And the fact that all week we never spoke again about what our relationship is really doesn’t give me any comfort.

  I shake away those melancholy thoughts and stare at my stunning friend, Allie. She looks beautiful in her tiered tulle wedding dress. The top is a deep V with an intricate lace applique that I helped Leslie stitch by hand. Her golden blond locks are pinned half up, and her makeup is dewy and absolute perfection.

  I’m kitted out in a ballet pink chiffon dress also made by Leslie. It’s a Grecian-inspired gown with a slit up the front and a soft V neckline with off-the-shoulder frills that wrap around my arms.

  It’s funny how this was the day that got me in such a fuss over finding a date in the first place. This day right here is the reason Mac started coaching me, the reason Mac kissed me in his bedroom, the reason Mac sabotaged my date with Santino, and the reason I told Mac I was still a virgin and we began sleeping together.

  This day was the reason I fell in love with my best friend.

  Yet, despite all these new experiences and feelings, I can’t help but look at Allie and me in the mirror next to each other, and think, Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

  “Okay, ladies. It’s almost time!” the wedding planner says, poking her head in through the door of the dressing room where we’re waiting inside Temple Church London. “They’re ushering the last few people to their seats, and then I’ll come back and get you two.”