𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

𝟯𝟴. 𝗦𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲

Day Beau is released from the psych ward

Being around Darcy so much, is like constantly having to take a double look. Because when she runs a hand through her hair, fiddles with her jewellery, makes the same concentration noise, I only see Beau. They're so similar in so many ways, it's almost frustrating; because there's nothing I want more than for it not to be Darcy, just once.

The door goes and I hear Fraser shuffle down the stairs to get it, deliveries only ever get dropped off in daylight hours back in the USA. Here, Darcy's received at least three different parcels containing new shit for her dog in the last hour. The one that made me laugh the hardest was a body warmer from Chanel, took me a while to figure out which sister is the most frivolous at first, but now it's clearer than day.

I finish running the towel through my damp hair and make an effort at styling it a little. After all, I want to look half presentable when I see Beau again.

Fuck, even thinking about it makes my stomach do somersaults. I stop pointlessly staring at myself through the mirror and throw a T-shirt on, I knew to pack heavy for this fucking weather, but this house hasn't seen a day without the central heating on full blast. I almost have to remind myself that it's not this warm outside, even opening a window gives us frostbite.

I pull my thin gold chain out from beneath my shirt so that you can see it. It was a birthday present from Kingsley for my eighteenth. I complimented his once, and boom, wrapped up in a fancy little box for me a month later. Took a few drinks, a fuck tonne of persuasion and a threat or two before I finally accepted it.

Sure he's got money flying out of his ears, but it still doesn't help me find it any easier to accept gifts when I know it must've come with a heavy price tag.

Beau made sure to give me another heart attack when she informed me that it cost over 4K, that night at the casino when she spotted it for the first time. It's her favorite thing of mine apparently, and for some odd reason I wish it was her who gifted it to me. I don't have anything sentimental from her, nothing I could keep close to me when I missed her. Nothing apart from that Dior coat I've spent almost every fucking day drowning in anyway.

I jog down the stairs much faster than I ever did back at Beau's fucking mansion, there must be at least double the amount to climb back there. I spot a brown cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs, but there's been too many to keep track of, could have just been dropped off, could be the same one delivered half an hour ago.

I swerve left, the smell of tomato and meat infuses the air and I make a reminder to buy Darcy a big thank you present. I'd still be in America if it wasn't for her phone call that day, and everything she's done since; pure hearts, runs in the family.