Free Old Friends, New Lovers (Regular Sex Issue 7) by Kitty French Page A

between them.
    Everyone cheers
as we barge each other out of the way to blow out our candles like a couple of
kids, and when it’s time to make a wish Fox catches my eye and winks then taps
his bare wedding ring finger.
    I wink right back
and unceremoniously raise my middle finger at him in reply, and all around us,
our friends laugh and cheer because they know as well as we do that we’re the
couple that never was and never will be.
     
    ‘Come on. I’ll
walk you home.’
    Fox finds me as
the last stragglers leave and the clock behind the bar inches towards midnight.
    ‘I only live five
doors away.’
    ‘Why do you think
I’m offering? If it was any more you’d be on your own, girlfriend.’
    ‘So chivalrous,
Fox. I’m impressed. Someone taught you some manners on your travels.’
    ‘I’ve always had
manners, Mabes, you just never noticed them.’
    To demonstrate
his point, he picks up my jacket and holds it up for me to slide my arms into.
    Our eyes connect
for a second, and his complicated expression makes me bite back the pithy
response on my lips. Maybe he has grown up a bit without me noticing. To me, he’s
always been Fox, my handsome, sarcastic best friend, the guy who’s got my back
and whose girlfriends I used to ditch for him when he wasn’t brave enough to do
it himself.
    Tonight though, I
see the man he’s grown into, albeit one with stubble and dark curls that would
need a cut if he moved in the corporate world as I do. He doesn’t, of course;
like all the best pirates, he lives his life outside conventional lines. I find
myself wondering how he’d look in a suit. I’ve barely ever seen him in much
besides worn Levi’s and a T-shirt, maybe a shirt at a push for a really special
occasion. And then I notice that tonight is one of those nights; Fox is wearing
a khaki shirt for our birthdays. It follows the lean lines of his body and
clings to his biceps in a way I’d find sexy on a different man.
    I don’t try too
hard to talk him out of walking me home because I have a gift for him back at
my flat and I’d really like him to have it tonight. I didn’t bring it with me; the
pub felt too public a place somehow.
     
    ‘No surprise
birthday visit from Brynn, then?’ Fox looks down at me as I link my arm through
his on the short walk home.
    ‘Nope.’
    I’m really
relieved Brynn didn’t show up. Our separation was hard on both of us for
different reasons. It was my decision in the end; I grew more and more stressed
every day as our wedding drew closer. I wasn’t worried about my dress, or my
flowers, or bothered about the table plan in case his aunt Ruth kicked off with
my gran again.
    I won’t go into
the details, but let’s just say our engagement party went with a bang that had
nothing to do with the surprise firework display Brynn arranged. No, it wasn’t
the mundane intricacies of wedding planning that kept me awake at night. It was
the groom. It sounds trite to say I loved him but wasn’t in love with him, but
surely I wasn’t supposed to feel platonic towards the man I was about to marry?
    He was a solid,
dependable man, and actually, he was a solid, dependable lover, too. My problem
is that I’m a romantic; whether it’s books, movies, or my own real life. A
solid and dependable husband was never likely to bend me backwards over the car
bonnet, was he? It probably makes me sound ungrateful for Brynn’s love, but I
don’t think I was. Our relationship lasted almost ten years, and I’d like to
think that we both walked away with some happy memories as well as broken
hearts. My parents almost disowned me. What kind of woman chucks a dentist with
his own practice?
    Me, it turned
out.
    ‘You’re a regular
manslayer, Mabes.’
    ‘One man hardly
makes me a manslayer,’ I huff, in part because I don’t think I’ll ever feel
complete peace with myself for making a grown man beg for my love.
    Fox looks down at
me, curious. ‘He isn’t the only man you’ve ever been with