The Law of Attraction (Brits in Manhattan) by Laura Carter

Author:Laura Carter [Carter, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books
Published: 2023-08-20T16:00:00+00:00

By the time the smell of my mother’s to-die-for lasagna is drifting into the den, the heavens have opened. Rain is bouncing so hard outside, it blows under the canopy that shelters the outdoor dining table.

I help Millie bring things in from the deck and set the indoor table. I bring two plastic chairs from outside and dry them down before placing them inside. Another thing I’ve tried to replace that my folks won’t have.

As the rest of us take our seats – the kids being designated the plastic chairs – Millie and Becky help Mom serve up plates of mammoth pasta portions. I watch Becky move around, completely at ease, almost as if she’s genuinely enjoying being here, as simple and suburban as it is. Once again, I feel ridiculous for being so nervous about her reaction to my slightly crazy family and the modest home I grew up in.

Last up, Becky puts two plates of garlic bread in the middle of the table. I pull out the chair next to me for her to sit. The tight packing of chairs around the table means her leg is pressed against mine. I set about getting us both a slice of garlic bread, pretending I’m completely unaware of the contact.

We eat and talk in that same position. It feels… natural. Right somehow.

Terrifying.

‘It’s a treat to have you all around the table,’ Mom says after placing her knife and fork together on her now empty plate. ‘It’s just a shame Jake couldn’t be here.’

I refrain from saying he’s probably perfectly content banging some English chick and living the high life in London.

‘Say, Becky, whereabouts in England are you from?’ my dad asks.

‘A place called Kent.’ When my dad looks blank, she adds, ‘It’s not too far from London.’

‘Well, when you’re home, you should look up our Jake.’

I swallow the gulp of wine in my mouth, trying not to choke, and I glance from my dad to Becky and back again. Not once had it occurred to me that she might not stay in New York. Not really. It hadn’t dawned on me that her home is still in England, thousands of miles and an ocean away. I wait for her to say she won’t be going home. That she’ll stay here forever.

But she doesn’t.

‘I’ll do that,’ she says, smiling meekly and undeniably avoiding looking at me. Irrational sickness churns low in my stomach. I’ve known her five minutes. We’re friends. Yet, I can’t stand the thought of my life without her in it.

If ever I needed confirmation that I wouldn’t want to mess up our friendship and lose her through a one-night stand, this would be it. Damn it, I even feel guilty for getting off over her earlier. I rub a hand roughly across my dry mouth, then pick up my wine, and drain the glass. What does it matter? She could leave the city any time, then I won’t have her friendship, and we never even had one night

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