Stand-In Saturday: (A standalone romcom. Book 2 in the Love For Days series)

by Kirsty Moseley

  I know this is true because Aubrey couldn’t see it when she was looking for the videos when I got home and told her about them. She hadn’t known about them until that moment, and when she checked, it turned out, you couldn’t see them from her account because Theo had only added my username in the description of the posts, not added an official tag. In the end, she had to resort to watching them on my phone, clicking on my notifications so she could see it.

  Lucas shrugs and rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I just saw it.” His tone is defensive, and his eyes dart away from me.

  My back straightens as I realise the only way he could have seen it. “Are you signed into my Instagram account?”

  He doesn’t deny it.

  My heart clenches as the truth clangs in my stomach like a lead balloon. “You are.” More truth hits me, and my brain is now reeling. “And my Twitter too. You just said you knew Theo and I were stuck in the lift and that you saw it on Twitter.” I gulp noisily. “But I didn’t like or comment on Theo’s tweet, so no one else could have seen it, apart from his followers. The only way it’s linked to me is that notification. So, you must be signed in there too?”

  His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His jaw tightens, and he folds his arms over his chest and shrugs. “Maybe I am. You were always on my phone; maybe it’s still signed in from you going on there. How should I know?”

  But that’s a lie. I was never on his phone. He was the one who liked access to my phone, but he always hid his phone away from me with passcodes that I wasn’t allowed to know.

  That means that he deliberately signed into my social accounts to keep tabs on me. It wasn’t an accident.

  The conniving little bastard!

  I blink, and it’s like everything hits me at once.

  Small hints that Aubrey dropped for years, which I ignored because they didn’t fit the narrative I had. When she brought up shady things Lucas said or did, I would defend him and make excuses—even to myself. Although some of the things she used to bring up sounded bad, I’d explain them away because of course stuff seemed bad if you took it out of context.

  You can’t just pick and choose what you want to remember and skim over the rest.

  But unfortunately, it looks like I did precisely that. I chose not to see what was right in front of me.

  But now, I know.

  What Lucas and I had was not right.

  My whole life had changed when we got together. It was wonderful at first. He showered me with affection, built me up, and pampered my heart until I fell so hard and so fast that I would have done anything for him—and I did. It started with me turning down my university placement. I barely gave it a second thought because choosing between him or my dream, he won every time. After that, I stopped seeing my friends because he didn’t like them. I lost contact with everyone, except Aubrey—and that was only because the stubborn wench refused to be ghosted. Lucas managed to slyly cut me off from everyone and everything I knew, isolated me until I thought all I needed was him, all the while making me love him so much that I didn’t even care or question it. He controlled every aspect of my life—our money, where we went, where I worked, who I saw, what I wore—and I let him.

  Over the first couple of years of our relationship, he built me up, only to systematically tear me down after that until I was so dependent on him, so in tune with his will, that I thought it was what I wanted too. He conditioned me with little digs, passive-aggressive comments about my appearance, my achievements, flaws in my personality, following them up with loving kisses and smiles and I’m only kidding, sweetheart or Can’t you take a joke comments, so I didn’t even notice he was oppressing me. Slowly, he broke my confidence and my spirit, moulded me until I was his idea of perfect. But even that wasn’t enough. Even after I pandered to his every whim and hung on his every word, he still went and cheated.

  The realisation feels like I’ve been struck in the heart. I press my hand to my forehead and suck in a deep breath. Everything I thought I knew about him—about us—has shifted. I can see it clearly now, all the ways he hurt me, manipulated me, ground me down. He never raised a hand to me, never physically hurt me, apart from some rough kisses or sex if we were fighting, but emotionally, he’s scarred me.

  I always thought Lucas was my Mr Right. Instead, he was my Mr Oh-So Wrong, and I never knew until now.

  “This”—I wave a hand between us—“this isn’t healthy. This isn’t right, Lucas. You’re a manipulative arsehole, you know that? You controlled every aspect of my life. You lorded over me like my keeper and had me dancing around, trying to please you, so afraid of not being what you wanted that I forgot all about what I wanted. You crushed me, Lucas. Crushed my spirit, and I never even realised.”

  He makes a disbelieving scoffing sound in his throat. “Don’t be obtuse! Jesus, you’ve always been so dramatic. I thought you’d grown out of your immature phase.” He rolls his eyes and steps closer to me, reaching out to grip my upper arm again, pulling me against his body. “So, I might be signed into your social media. So what? It’s not like I meant any harm. I was just checking what you were up to, making sure you were safe so I could step in and take care of you if you needed my help. I was looking out for you, like I always do. I love you, Lucie. Always have. You and I are meant to be. I need you, and you need me. We’re nothing without each other.”

  I gulp, and … I almost believe him. When he gives me the puppy-dog eyes and his hand strokes my waist, I almost bloody fall for it again.

  But he’s wrong. I am something. I am worth something. Over the last three months, I’ve slowly taken my life back, put the broken pieces of myself back together again, summoned inner strength I didn’t know I still had, and I’ve kept calm and carried on.

  The old Lucie that Lucas had long since squashed and suppressed has started to resurface in the months we’ve been apart. Steadily creeping back is the old fun-loving, daring Lucie who, at fourteen, made a deathbed promise to her nonna to always live her life to the fullest and to never be afraid to jump because what if I can fly, but I never found out because I was too scared to take the leap.

  I forcefully shake my head. “You’re so wrong, Lucas. I’m not nothing without you. I’m me without you. And you know what? That’s good enough.” Saying the words out loud is empowering. This is the closure I should have been seeking, not to hurt him with jealousy, but this—me standing up for myself and knowing that he has no power over me anymore. This is everything.

  And the fact that his whole body stiffens and his eye twitches? Well, that’s just the icing on the cake.

  I confidently raise my chin. Now that the weight of Lucas’s domination is off my shoulders, my mind flicks to Theo. Adorable, lovely, magic-performing Theo, who likes me just the way I am—belly tops, sass, snorty laugh, no make-up, big bum, and messy hair. He likes all of it. He thinks I’m perfect—every part of me.

  What am I even doing here? Why am I wasting time arguing with Lucas when I could be dancing with Theo right now? He told me he likes me, and I left him hanging. What is wrong with me?

  “You should get some help, talk to a professional, fix this problem you have with control before you ruin your next relationship with your toxic traits. Goodbye, Lucas.”

  I awkwardly step around him and head for the door, wincing because my ankle twinges, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me limp. As I reach for the door handle, he calls my name.

  I turn, seeing his arms arrogantly crossed over his chest.

  “I hold all the cards here, sweetheart. I could ruin you. One word from me, and you’ll never PA for any decent firm in London. Didn’t you ever wonder why, even with your experience, you couldn’t get another PA job?” One side of his mouth kicks up into a wicked smirk.

  My back straightens at his words.

  He shrugs. “So far, I’ve only thrown out a few scattered kernels of a lie whenever anyone has come to me for a reference, but if you walk out of that door now, I�
��ll pull in every favour I’m owed, and I’ll spread the word to every company in London that you’re an incompetent, untrustworthy, useless assistant who fucks up even the simplest of tasks. They won’t touch you with a bargepole.”

  The penny drops. This is why I had trouble finding a job when I first started applying to places. So many of them, I was confident I had aced the interview and impressed them with my ideas and achievements from the last eight years. I walked out of so many job interviews, certain I had it in the bag—I even had a few winks and the telling I’ll speak to you in a couple of days phrase with my goodbye handshakes—but then a week or so later, a letter would arrive, telling me I’d been unsuccessful but wishing me luck in the future.

  “You messed up my references? Why would you do that?”

  “Because I wanted you to come back to work for me. I thought you’d see sense when you couldn’t find anyone to hire you, and you’d come grovelling back. You and I are meant to be, and we both know it,” he replies. His voice is calm and reasonable, as if that were a perfectly legitimate reason for messing with someone’s life.

  But the thing is, I’m not even angry. I never wanted to PA in the first place. He was the one who set it up for me to work for him, likely because he wanted to keep me close, I now realise. Not being able to find another secretarial job pushed me to re-evaluate what I wanted, to take a chance (and a significant pay cut) and put myself forward for the intern programme at the publisher when Aubrey came home and told me about it. I’m working towards my dream job right now, and it seems I have Lucas to thank for it.

  Lucas cocks his head to the side and takes a step towards me. The glint in his eye tells me he thinks he’s won. “Here’s what’s going to happen now. You’re going to go tell that arsehole that you’re sorry but you don’t ever want to see him again. Then, we’re going to go to our parents and announce the good news—that we’re back together. You know they’ll be thrilled. Then, we’ll leave. The first thing you’ll do when we get home is throw this fucking dress in the bin. I never want to see you in anything this tight again.”

  But his words have no power over me anymore. I’m done. Mentally, I’ve finally severed all ties.

  I press my lips together and wait until he’s finished, and then I coolly shake my head. “No, Lucas. The era of you telling me what to do has ended. So, here’s what’s actually going to happen now. You’re going to eat a bag of dicks.”

  His mouth pops open comically, his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, and his eyes widen with shock at my words. I burst into a fit of giggles and catalogue his expression, taking a mental picture purely for my own future replaying pleasure.

  Extending my free hand, I flip him the bird. “This conversation is over. You are officially cancelled,” I say confidently and then wrench the door open and stride through it without looking back. I’ve never been prouder of myself.

  twenty-three

  Lucie

  In eight years, I don’t think I ever fully breathed.

  As I walk down the hallway, heading back to the hubbub of the party, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I never realised how toxic our relationship was. I thought I was so happy with Lucas, but looking back at it now with a fresh perspective, maybe I never was.

  I spot Theo. He has his back to me and is chatting and laughing with a group of five people I vaguely recognise from previous parties. My heart leaps at the sound of his laugh, and I chew on my lip as my tummy fizzes with excitement.

  This man likes everything about me.

  Grinning like a moron, I head straight over to him, ignoring the small, uncomfortable twinge in my ankle each time I take a step. When I get to him, I slip my hand into his and squeeze.

  He turns and smiles down at me. “Hey, there you are. I was beginning to think you’d ditched me or that you’d eaten a bad prawn …” He teasingly raises one eyebrow, and I burst out laughing.

  Not bothering to answer, I step into the heat of his body and wrap my hand around the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to mine.

  He grunts in surprise but immediately kisses me back. His soft lips feel so good against mine that I melt against him, my insides turning to goo. One of his arms slips around my waist, holding me steady when I wobble on my tiptoes, and the other comes up to cup my jaw. His smell, his taste, the feel of him against me—all of it combined is a heady mix that intoxicates me. I feel drunk on him; it’s beautiful. The little moan he makes in the back of his throat sets my body on fire, and his lips part against mine. As the kiss deepens, every nerve ending in my body seems to zing, and I smile against his lips.

  This is how it’s supposed to feel when you’re kissed by a man.

  He smiles, too, and pulls back a fraction, his arms tightening on me. “Oh, so you missed me, too, huh?” he whispers, his lips brushing against mine as he speaks.

  I smile and nod. “I did.” There’s too much truth in that sentence.

  He grins and lightly kisses me again. “Where were you?” he breathes, his fingers tickling across the skin at the back of my neck.

  I brush my nose up the side of his and sigh. “Fighting with Lucas.”

  His body stiffens, and he pulls back to look at me, his expression hardening. “Do I need to kick his arse?”

  I chuckle at the venom I could hear in his words. “I already did.”

  A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “You did? That’s my girl.”

  His words hit me hard. “That’s my girl.”

  God, it sounds incredible.

  I glow with pleasure as I chew on my lip to try and suppress my loony grin. Before I can say anything back, a hand closes around my shoulder, and I’m yanked from Theo’s embrace with so much force that my ankle instantly barks with agony. I stumble, barely managing to regain my balance before I completely fall. I yelp and wince, grabbing on to the wooden sideboard for support, lifting my foot from the floor as the pain burns brighter.

  Lucas’s eyes are hard and ferocious as he glares, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Stop whoring yourself out, Lucie. For fuck’s sake, you’re embarrassing yourself … and me! We’re leaving. We’ll deal with this when we get home!”

  At his words, people stop what they’re doing and turn towards us. Their eyes are curious and shocked at his outburst. This is a side of Lucas no one gets to see but me when we’re alone. He’s usually the consummate professional, unflappable in public.

  With my face flaming, my stomach dips, and my eyes widen, but as Lucas reaches out to seize my arm, Theo moves faster. Grabbing a handful of Lucas’s shirt and tie, he yanks him away from me while his free hand curls into a fist and slams into my ex-fiancé’s face. It connects with a dull, muted thud, and Lucas groans in pain as he staggers back, slamming into the wall, narrowly avoiding taking out a waiter who jumps out of the way at the last second.

  I gasp.

  Lucas recovers quickly, launching himself at Theo, and they crash back into the cupcake station, sending colourful cakes and sprinkles everywhere. They’re scuffling on the floor, fighting for the upper hand. Theo definitely gets it, but Lucas manages to land a couple of hits too.

  People stare, open-mouthed, at the scene unfolding in the middle of my father’s retirement party. My heart is in my throat, and I flinch when I see Lucas’s fist connect with Theo’s cheek.

  Oh, please don’t let him get hurt!

  “Theo, stop, please.”

  I don’t bother appealing to Lucas’s better judgement. When he’s in a rage, there’s no pulling him back; you have to let it simply fizzle out. I push myself towards them, intending to break it up, wincing and limping with every step, but my father gets there first.

  Wrapping his arms around Theo’s chest, my dad pulls him back up to his feet and drags him away from Lucas as Fred makes a dive for his son, doing the same.

  Theo is furious as he growls at Lucas, “I fucking warned you not to grab her again, didn’t I? You don’t put your hands on her like that! Are you ins
ane?”

  They’re both thrashing, trying to break free of their restrained holds so they can finish what they started. Lucas screams profanities, his face going beet red, as he kicks out his leg, trying to strike Theo. He looks a mess. His hair is everywhere, his shirt untucked, waistcoat buttons ripped open. His lip is split, and there are blood drops on his white shirt. Meanwhile, Theo is barely breathing heavy.

  “That’s enough!” Papà roars. Hissing a string of Italian profanities, he lets go of Theo and manoeuvres himself between the fighting pair, putting two hands on Theo’s chest and shoving him back a couple of steps. “This stops now!” My father’s eyes are blazing as he jabs an angry finger in Theo’s chest. “You get out! You’re no longer welcome here. How dare you walk into my house and show this level of disrespect!”

  I hobble to Theo’s side and desperately shake my head. “Papà, you don’t understand—”

  “I understand perfectly!” Papà snaps harshly. His eyes flick back to Theo, who has gone very still, his face a mask of stony resignation. “You’re uncouth riffraff, coming in here and starting fights! We don’t want your kind here!”

  Anger sparks in my stomach. None of this is Theo’s fault, and once again, Lucas gets away with murder.

  Papà sneers at Theo as he continues, “You stay away from my Luciella. She’s spoken for and to be married!”

  And now, I’m mad. Eye-twitch kind of mad.

  I raise my chin and clumsily step forward, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “I’m not spoken for anymore, Papà! Lucas and I broke up, remember? What is it with you men and not taking no for an answer?” I cry angrily. “And Theo was only defending me! Lucas grabbed me first. None of this is Theo’s fault.”

  “It’s okay, Luce. You don’t have to,” Theo says, his hand touching the small of my back, obviously trying to calm me down.

  It doesn’t help.