Sick Like Me (Sick Like #1)

Chapter 35

THIRTY-FIVE

For the first time since I had been project lead for the King couple’s family home interior design project, I sat at the circular table in our office with the elegant yet matching looking couple sat opposite Stefan and I.

Carol and Malcolm, calling for attention as they wore the same shade of bright orange, looked out of place in our office, as if they were some celebrities that called for hushed whispers and stolen glances. It made me want to turn around and shout at everyone to go back to work, to stop looking at the pair as if they were some museum exhibit.

But I bit my tongue, giving my coworkers nothing more than a warning glance that seemed more than enough to make them snap their attention back to their work.

Being a well respected senior member of the team had it’s privileges. Apparently fear inducing glares was the specialty I had developed.

Casey returned from the break room with two mugs of tea, one for each member of the King couple. She placed them down, and Mr King rushed to wrap his hand around the china whereas Mrs King kept her head high and her focus on myself .

“You both look tired. Long week, is it?” Carol asked as her eyes glanced to Stefan for a brief moment, then she looked back at me.

Stefan went to open his mouth to chat away about how exhausted he was, but I decided to save the woman the sob story of his ‘hectic partying lifestyle’ and answered for the both of us. “Nothing every other working person doesn’t deal with,” I waved my hand dismissively to the mild concern she showed us.

In the months I had been liaising with Mrs King, I had learnt that she actually cared about the people who worked for her company. While she may not have known every member of staff in every branch, she still made an effort to strike up a conversation with any staff who encountered her.

Sometimes this led to them speaking to the woman for hours. But Carol King was a personality to be admired.

I wished I could be a ten of the woman she was when I reached her age.

The woman shot me a knowing look and nodded her head. She looked almost proud that I was so laser focused on working. And that gave me a sense of self accomplishment.

I wouldn’t say I had parental issues, but I quite often found myself seeking validation from other people. I sought the validation of Mr and Mrs King in my work. I sought validation from Peyton and Stefan as reassurance I was a good person. And I dug for validation from Dakota to show me that maybe, just maybe, I could be wanted. He never gave me any,. But thankfully, Owen gave me more than enough to make up for it.

“You both could use a break,” The Carol sighed loudly, dramatically even. I raised an eyebrow at the comment, but said nothing as I sensed there was more she had to say.

I was right, I noted, as I watched the corners of her lips tilt up into a coy looking smile. “Lucky for you, I have just the thing to give you guys a pick me up.”

Stefan kicked my ankle lightly, and I wanted to slap him for the action. He was calling to my attention that he was excited at whatever they had in store for us, but I wanted to keep my professional composure. So I kept my smile forced and my body facing the woman in front of me.

“We have your tickets booked for Monaco, you leave in two weeks, the weekend before the final week in May,” Carol looked smug and proud of herself as she leant back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

Malcolm had long checked out of the conversation, drinking his tea idly as he looked around the room and took in the way the space was laid out. I doubted he would have had any objections to his wife’s claims though.

My lips parted. I wasn’t one for clothes and fashion, I wore whatever was comfortable. But if I was going to one of most sought out places for business officials upon their retirement, then I wanted to be somewhat presentable for at least one evening. Maybe I would find a rich old man who would make me forget my struggle between Owen and Kota.

Despite the fact Owen had been winning me over, the latter had been haunting my dreams as of recent nights and I wanted to forget the struggle between them for just a period of time, no matter how short. I wanted to be Ashton Barret—free of any men struggles.

“This feels all too sudden…” I began, my voice trailing off at the end. It wasn’t really sudden, this had been in the works for months. The fact the flight was two weeks away and I had just found out made me and my pre-planning OCD behaviour panic.

But Stefan grinned and spoke up at long last. His voice, while sometimes annoying, could calm me down in the right situations. That was why he was one of my best friends.

“We really appreciate it. Shall we start looking at hotels?” He asked, a question I hadn’t even began to consider until he asked. It made me panic for a brief second before Malcolm finally spoke up, his voice almost dazed .

“Oh, no worries. We have that all sorted for you. The owners of Club Temptation have a hotel chain, one of which is home to their Monaco nightclub. We booked you in there. The rooms are far away enough so you won’t be disrupted by loud music, but we thought you may want to party it up on your free days there.”

Stefan beamed brightly. He was living in his element with the information provided. Any excuse to go drinking and dancing it up all night long, he would take it. He was living the dream in his single days, he would claim.

Me? Not so much.

I hated clubbing and I hated that two weeks felt too soon for me to plan my suitcase and my week’s schedule out. But I tried to push the anxieties away the best I could as I forced a smile once again.

“This is… great,” My voice sounded forced.

But the couple seemed to either not notice, or not care, as they fell into conversation with Stefan about the latest alcoholic drink trends that he fully intended to abuse while we were there.

Stefan led me through Hatherleigh in search of cheap yet summery clothes that would make us the fashionable wingmen duo.

Hatherleigh was a store famous across the UK for cheap and decent quality items aimed from children to adults, ignorant of the age. They sold things varying from clothes, to shoes, to even items and decor for your home.

It was a place I would usually love, if it was Autumn and all the Halloween decor was laid out. But in the summer when everyone gathered in flocks of loud gossip to pick out outfits for their holidays abroad?

There were many other places I would have wished to be instead of that cramped, sweaty shop and all it’s five floor glory .

Stefan cared more about my appearance that I did, it seemed, as he pulled me away from a rack of belts over to a stand that held folded cargo styled trousers in many different colours.

He picked up a beige pair and held it up, the folds dropping as the legs came into view. He then held the trousers up against my body, and I tried my best not to stumble as I pulled the heavy wheeled basket around behind me.

“This would go great with that white shirt you picked up earlier,” He began, reminding me of the shirt he chose for me. Sure, it felt light weight and great to wear throughout the day, but it was so unlike my usual style. “Or you could pair it with a crop top,” Stefan began as he turned his head in search of said item, listing the possible clothing pairing options—something I could do with never hearing again.

I knew when to dress appropriately. I had a few items in my draws and wardrobe that would have been summery enough. But nothing was good enough, stylish enough , for the fashionista Stefan.

“If we’re going on holiday together, then you need to at least look presentable. I don’t want to look like I’m hanging out with a homeless woman,” Stefan had joked when he demanded we go shopping.

“I don’t care what ‘could’ look good together. I just want to grab a few outfits so I can pack my fucking suitcase,” I snapped at Stefan, but as I snatched the trousers off him and folded them before throwing them on the growing mountain of clothes in the basket, I knew he felt as if he had silently won whatever war he thought we were in.

The sooner we finished shopping, the sooner we could eat. I didn’t want it to be a whole day ordeal. I wanted to grab some items, then stuff my face with as much pizza as humanly possible before we ended the day with a long drive home around the scenic routes following the mountains.

I pulled away from the stand and made my way to the next rack of clothes, my eyes glancing over shorts that were so short they could have been considered underwear. I pulled a face, then moved onto the next rack.

I paused to pretend I was mildly interested in the graphic t-shirts the rack had to offer. I felt Stefan’s presence beside me and shot him a question to show I wasn’t moody at him, just at the fact I was shopping.

I fucking hated shopping.

“So, who’s car are we taking?” I asked, knowing his Q3 could much better handle the trip and luggage load than my humble Mini. “I need to book the airport parking.”

I saw him move to my peripheral, shooting me a look that revealed he had no intention of ever giving my car a chance. “Mine, stupid,” He smiled.

I nodded my head, then grew quickly bored of trying to figure out if the graphic sloth on the t-shirt was cute or ugly. I pulled away and went to grab the handle of the basket, but Stefan beat me to it.

“How about we go check out the jewellery?” He asked, eyeing up small stands down the end of the walkway. “Oh! Or what about we check out the dresses and shoes?” He began, and I couldn’t help but let out a groan as he dragged me throughout the rest of the store.

I threw myself into the red leather booth seat and closed my eyes. The loud music wasn’t doing anything to ease my sour mood, but at least my poor aching feet could have a break.

After sitting in the restaurant, I knew my mood was going to lighten drastically. Shopping was done, and all I had left to do was pack my suitcase. I had a week and a half to do that, but I didn’t care. The sooner it was packed, the more time I had to relax .

I knew Stefan would pack the night of, and I could never understand how lackadaisical he could be. But that was just a trait he held, and I still loved him despite it.

Three shops with at least four floors each caused me nothing more than pinching pain in the bottom of my feet, despite the fact I wore my softest memory foam soled trainers.

Stefan sat opposite me, the rustling of bags hitting the floor under the table disturbing my second of peace. I opened my eyes and looked into Stefan’s brown eyes. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

He grinned with pride and puffed out his chest dramatically. “We got it all done though, didn’t we? Where would you be without me, huh? You’d be wearing ugly flower print trousers and mismatched shirts in one of the most beautiful places in the world. How else will we marry you off to a rich man if you dress like a woman in her 80s?”

I let out a bark of laughter and rolled my eyes, silently thankful when the waiter waltzed over with a pitcher of ice cold water to quench my dry throat.

Stefan rushed to pour us each a glass of water, then he picked his glass up and tilted it to my direction. “To Monaco,” He spoke, and I realised he was trying to make a toast. I narrowed my eyes at him, to which he rolled his own. “Just entertain me for a second, will you?”

I smiled and rolled my eyes in a mimic of his actions, but then I picked my own glass up and held it out to him. We clinked glasses, and I repeated his words. “To Monaco.”