𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 two years ago, my life changed forever. All it took was one night to alter the rest of my life. I wasn't sure about a lot of things however, there are two things that I was absolutely certain on: what I wanted to wear and who...
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I stroll into the front room the next morning, Carter's kicked his feet up on the coffee table, joint in one hand, bottle of 77-year-old Macallan in the other.
"We celebrating?" Throw myself down next to him on the couch, take a swig of the whiskey.
"Are we fuck?" He scoffs, snatches the bottle back. Nothing's even playing on the TV. Curtains are closed, ashtray's overflowing. It's only eight o'clock in the fucking morning.
"No? We just drink £120,000 whiskey for funsies then, yeah?"
Carter shrugs one shoulder. "Don't know why you're getting pissy about it. Not bothering you, is it?"
I hold my hands up. "Do what you like, mate. Mi casa es tu casa."
He laughs a bit. "Got any plans?"
"Me?" I pull a face. "Nah. Might meet Haysie later for a drink. But that's about it. You?"
He side-eyes me. I realise. "Fuck, I'm sorry, mate."
He turns his lips up, shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. But, uh, no, no plans for me today."
I run a hand across my jaw. "We could pop out for a drink later if you fancy?"
"What? And have people think you're my Valentine. Get fucked," he chuckles.
"Oi," I point a finger at him. "Plenty of people would get on their knees to be my valentines."
"Yeah, and I'm not one of them. Shocker, I know." He gets up from the couch, slaps me on the shoulder.
He stumbles a bit as he takes a step. I think that that isn't his first bottle. "Steady there. How much have you had?"
Carter waves me off, makes his way down the hall. I sit on the sofa for a bit longer. Think about what Harper told me yesterday morning. Think about the prick my brother killed.
The few days she was there, Albie was keeping me posted. I knew about Hugh before she did. Albie offered to put that Barnaby prick in the ground but I told him to wait—I want to do it.
Spoke to my dad about it, he gave me the okay even though I would be doing it if he didn't approve. Said he can get me out to New York and home without anyone seeing me. Later this week, he said. Saturday or Sunday would be good.
Won't tell Haysie, obviously. Don't think she'd like that very much. When she told me what happened in New York—not with the photographer, the other guy—she got funny about it.
I lean back on the sofa, groan a bit when feel my shoulder pop. Still feel a bit fucked from the other night. Weren't anything too crazy, just a few drinks with the boys which led to a brawl in the underground ring. Not sure if the lads alright, I was too drunk to really care.
The front door opens then, I don't bother getting up. It's probably Luca coming back from his morning jog.
"George?" Harper's voice calls out instead, her heels click-clacking on the marble. I spring up from my seat—dodgy shoulder or not and go out to the foyer.
