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She looks down at me, still scoping me out in case I want to kick off in her face, but I just smile, waiting until she breaks the silence.
“I didn’t know he was with you,” she says. “He said you were just an ex who moved to London when he did.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
“I may be an idiot sometimes,” she says. “But I, um… I didn’t think it was cheating, and I really did think that he…”
She can’t bring herself to say it. Loved me.
She really did think that he loved her.
Only Connor isn’t capable of loving anyone but himself, no matter what the fallout.
I take a seat beside Carly as she starts crying again, so she’s sandwiched between me and Josh, and we both hug her.
“I know,” I say with a sigh, squeezing her tight. “I thought he loved me, too.”
“It hurts so bad!” she cries. “I can’t take it. I can’t fucking take it.”
My heart blends with hers, recognising her pain,
“I know it hurts, and I know it doesn’t feel like you can take it. Believe me, I’ve been there. But you can take it, and you will take it, because he’s nothing but a twat who doesn’t deserve your tears.” I look at Josh, who is looking at me as I keep on talking. “Just give yourself time, Carly, and trust me, because I swear there is someone else out there who’s better. Who really is your twin flame. And when you find them, you’ll be glad Connor fucked you over, I swear it.”
She nods through her tears, but I know she doesn’t believe it, and isn’t likely to – not for some time, but I believe it, because I see it. Right in front of me.
Josh is my real twin flame, not Connor, and Carly’s will be waiting out there too.
And as for Connor, he’s got the saddest future of us all, because his only twin flame is his ego – and one day that ego will fall.
Chapter Thirty-Three
We wake up to an offer of breakfast pancakes from the delightful Tiffany – what a goddess – and snatch up the offer with a thanks, be right down. She’s the ultimate chef when it comes to pancakes, served up with chocolate spread, strawberries and the most amazingly whipped up cream. Seriously, delicious.
Ha. Creamgirl makes the best whipped up cream, who’d have ever thought it?
“I’m impressed,” Tiff says, as Josh and I take a seat at her breakfast bar, still exhausted from Connor-Carlygate last night. “You’re more compassionate than me, Ells,” she says as she gets the pan fired up. “Tears or not, Carly’s still a smug little cow who’s had her bubble burst.”
“There’s no call for that,” Josh says, and his eyes are fierce as they lock onto hers. “Seriously, Tiff, you might think she’s a cow, but she’s still my sister, and she’s still torn to pieces. Have a bit of respect, will you?”
I feel tension between them I’ve never picked up on before, and Josh sits rigid at my side, uptight and frazzled after our hours spent consoling Carly.
“Sorry,” Tiff says, then sighs. “I know she’s hurt, alright? Like I said, I’m impressed you went over to help. That’s mega noble of you.”
Shit, I try to break the tension.
“She isn’t that bad at all. I think under the surface she’s probably a really nice girl, she just has issues, but don’t we all?”
Tiff shrugs before she starts whisking the eggs.
“Yeah, I guess so. If only she’d admit she’s a fragile little flower under the surface, rather than brushing it off with her bravado of super bitch, she’d be a lot happier.”
I fight the urge to say the famous line – often the things that piss us off about other people, are the things we don’t want to see in ourselves. Tiff isn’t a super bitch, though. She’s Creamgirl, and Creamgirl happens to be the most popular entertainer at The Agency – with every right to be. She’s confident, bubbly, happy, sparkling with life and wealth and beauty.
Yet, still, under the surface…
“Was she ok by the time you left?” Tiff asks.
Josh relaxes his shoulders. “She wasn’t sobbing, and she even managed a few laughs. Mainly down to the lovely Ella here.”
