Show Me Your Lips (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 3)

Not Loud Enough

Lauren picked up her cup, without taking her eyes off the screen with yet another spreadsheet lit up with everyone's 'favourite' #VALUE! warnings. She must have botched up the formula in the previous sheet. She took a sip and realised that there was no tea left. She looked down at the bottom of her mug, as if brew would magically appear from her glare. And then her eyes dropped at the clock in the corner of her right monitor.

"Bugger! Bugger!"

She continued quietly swearing under breath, running around the rooms, grabbing her keys, looking for her bag. Finding her phone was another barney: it turned out that it was buried under a stack of bills of lading she'd been working on earlier.

"Bugger!"

She finally dug up the gizmo and rushed to the door. She was dialling the garage while pushing her feet into her shoes.

"Frank, hiya! I'm sorry I'm tardy!" she exclaimed before her brother could answer. "I completely lost track of time! I'm so sorry!" Lauren noticed she was once again 'bellowing' as her family called it. "It's the end of a month," she said, lowering her voice, "and June is always the worst. With the transition to Summer, and so on."

"Hi," Frank answered and chuckled. "Are we expecting you, or something? You do know that Ma and Da are away, right?"

Lauren stopped mid-step, already outside of her cottage.

"Yes, Frank, I'm aware," she said bitterly. "That's why I'm supposed to take care of the garage paperwork for the next fortnight. Since neither you, nor Mel can do bugger-all when it comes to invoicing and purchase orders for vendors."

"Oh, Laurie, I'm sorry." Frank's voice coloured with sincere regret. Lauren immediately felt like the worst kind of a prick. Out of her siblings, Frank was the softest and the most caring. "Da didn't say anything about. Don't be upset with him. I reckon, he forgot. With the packing and bookings, and so on."

Lauren was the one who'd booked the tickets, the hotel, and the tours, as well as thought of and planned all the minutia for their parents' long-anticipated trip to Spain that they'd been jokingly calling their honeymoon. It was their first couple getaway after almost forty years of marriage.

"And we're proper grateful for your help!" Frank added, probably assuming more grovelling was required. "You're right, Mel and I are total berks when it comes to all these numbers and forms."

"It's alright, Frank," Lauren muttered. "Sorry I kicked off. It's just that it is a busy time. And I don't mind doing it, of course; but he could've given me a bit more time. And now it turns out he didn't even think of letting you know; as if it's not important, and—"

"Laurie, I gotta dash." Frank interrupted her. "Later?"

She could hear voices and laughter in the background.

"Yeah, sure," Lauren answered flatly. "I'll see you in—"

Frank hung up before she finished the sentence; and Lauren huffed a frustrated breath.

She shoved the phone in the pocket of her trousers and decisively stomped toward the garage. She would've taken her bike; but clearly there was no rush. Walking might also allow her time to work through her irritation.

It didn't work, though. By the time she made it to the shop, she was still grinding her teeth. She reminded herself that it was her fault that her jaw hurt so much now. The previous evening, she'd forgotten to put on her night guard, just as usual. She'd been half-watching some rubbish on her laptop; half-pretending that any moment now, she would get up and go to the bathroom and attend to her teeth and maybe even do a face mask; and then the next morning she would wake up early and do some yoga and maybe even a few push-ups; and altogether, she'd be a better human being. And then she'd fallen asleep lulled by the skull-numbing illogical mediocrity of yet another mass-produced romcom, which was neither romantic, nor particularly funny.