### Chapter 8 Amidst the soft glow of midday, Beej took in Tausie and me for lunch at Clos Maggiore, a sanctuary of culinary delight nestled in the heart of the city. It’s one of my cherished spots, that’s precisely why he chose it. However, as soon as I ordered just the parsnip soup—the lightest option on the menu—I caught the faint flicker of disappointment in his eyes, though I tried my best to ignore it. The truth is, I adore that soup; I’ve savored it before, every spoonful a warm embrace... except now, a lurking anxiety nagged at me. Parsnips can be treacherous. BJ tipped his chin towards my bowl, now almost untouched. “You don’t like it?” With a swift shake of my head, I insisted, “No, I love it—” but his gaze fell to the remnants of my meal, and I felt the need to defend myself. “It’s just that parsnips are really high in potassium,” I explained, “which is fantastic in moderation, but too much can lead to hyperkalemia. You’d end up nauseous, fatigued, and crampy.” Taura’s brow knitted with concern. “Had a lot of potassium lately, have you?” I raised my nose in mock arrogance. “I had a banana smoothie for breakfast.” Only, I hadn't. Taura’s expression morphed into confusion. “Why’d you order it then?” Silently, I raised my spoon, hoping to appease them both. But BJ remained watchful, his brow furrowed in a way I’d never seen before. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asked, a hint of desperation creasing his voice. “No,” I replied, my heart heavy. “Order something else then,” he encouraged, his smile tentative yet hopeful. I relented, tossing in an order for French beans with mixed leaves drizzled in French dressing, but I could sense it hadn’t entirely placated him. “Much better,” I imagined my sister would say, rolling her eyes had she been there, yet she wasn’t. After our meal, we crossed the road to grab a coffee from % Arabica. As BJ intertwined his fingers with mine, an unfamiliar wave of anxiety washed over me. There was something in his grip, a tension that didn’t fit the mold of his usual bravado. He was always the brave one, cocky and self-assured, yet today there was an unusual crease in his brow, a weight in his smile—and suddenly, I was drowning in worry. Suddenly, a sinister thought crept into my mind—was he perhaps cheating on me? The very notion barely had time to solidify before I vehemently dismissed it—I knew he wouldn’t. Or would he? A flicker of panic surged through me. My fingers tingled with the urge to text my sister, my confidante, to talk sense into me. But then reality hit like a freight train. I rarely texted her these days, and our exchanges had gradually turned into a lopsided affair. I kept her phone charged in the guest room, ensuring our messages lit up in blue—anything but the green of an unsuccessful iMessage slipping into obscurity. The very idea was unnerving; twice, since Bridget’s death, the bubble had turned green, the horror of each moment slicing deep. Both times, BJ had been out—once with the boys, once on a shoot where his phone inexplicably died. Initially, I had brushed it off with annoyance, but now the absence of “Delivered” or the sight of green sent shivers down my spine. I felt as if I was burying him alive under my fears. In a frenzy, I lamented my isolation. Who could I confide in? Taura had a history of her own with BJ, one I could not ignore, and as much as I had faith in her, could I truly share my swirling thoughts? Silently, I cursed my imagination for spiraling out of control—because even if he had, he wouldn’t… But what if he actually had? Lost in my maelstrom of worries, Taura’s sharp visage broke through my reverie, her eyebrows arched with impatience. “What?” I stammered, blinking rapidly. She nodded towards the counter, and I realized we had arrived at the coffee shop. “What do you want?” “Oh.” My brow furrowed in concentration. “A cortado, please.” BJ watched me closely, the concern deepening. “You okay?” “Hmm?” I feigned cheerfulness, summoning a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’m wonderful.” “Your face looks weird,” he said, tilting his head, his worry now palpable. “That’s rather rude,” I scoffed, but couldn’t keep the sadness from creeping into my voice. “Alright.” BJ softened, brushing his lips against mine. “Your face looks great. Your expression? Weird.” I shook my head vehemently. “No expression.” His fingers grazed my skin, and I felt a pang of loneliness—a desolation that stung behind my eyes. Desperately, I grasped the hand he had placed on my face, holding it close. “Do you love me?” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. “What?” His brows furrowed deeper in confusion. “Are we— Do we need to go—?” Silently, I bore my gaze into his, pleading for an affirmation I both feared and craved. “Parks—” he began again, his voice laced with trepidation. “Please?” I blinked up at him, cherishing this moment, the connection weaving between us. Lowering his eyes to meet mine, he spoke gently, “Not a day has gone by since I met you where I haven’t loved you.” His words quenched the fire of insecurity blossoming within me, yet I hesitated. “Promise?” He offered a quizzical smile, his sincerity touching me deeply. “Promise.” In that moment, a voice erupted from behind us. “Oh my god—” Taura elbowed me excitedly. “That’s Daisy’s ex.” “The sexy policeman?” I perked up, scanning the room. She pointed him out, her tone barely masking her intrigue. The man stood there, his presence commanding attention—a vision in faded light blue distressed jeans from Palm Angels, paired with an embroidered black hoodie from AMI Paris, and steel grey Converse x Comme Des Garçons Play Chucks. “Quite sexy indeed,” BJ muttered, casting a sidelong glance, his expression a blend of feigned indifference and genuine curiosity. “Very,” Taura confirmed, her tone now imbued with palpable tension. BJ turned back, the realization hitting him. The gossamer veil of my worries fluttered as I absorbed his reactions. “Total fucking smoke show, yeah—wow.” Amusingly, Taura went quiet, her demeanor shifting to something I couldn’t quite place. “He is a smoke show, isn’t he?” I smirked at Taura, scrutinizing her response. “What do you think, Taura?” “What?” She blinked, her cheeks tinged with a shade of pink. “No—yeah. He’s handsome. Obviously—but—no, because—” “Let’s bring him over,” I declared, unabashedly. “No!” Taura’s voice sliced through the air, instinctively resisting. “Yes!” My enthusiasm surged, unyielding to her protests. Tausie shook his head, his jaw tightening. “Don’t you—” I waved energetically at Tiller, my excitement overpowering reason. He approached, surprise flickering in his eyes as he recognized me. “Magnolia,” he greeted warmly, enveloping me in a hug that felt surprisingly comforting—better than a boy like him had any right to be. Pulling back, he glanced between me and BJ, brows raised in curiosity before he shook his head, realization dawning. “I didn’t realize you two were back together,” he said. “A few months now.” BJ nodded, extending his hand. “I don’t know if we’ve ever properly met. BJ.” “Killian Tiller,” he introduced, shaking BJ’s hand firmly. I studied him, a playful smile itching at my lips. “Did you really not realize we were back together?” Killian pressed his lips together, his smile tight. “I really didn’t.” I faltered. “Do you not read the society pages?” His eyebrows shot up, exchanging a glance with BJ. “I can’t say that I do, no—” “Oh,” I sighed, disappointment swamping me. “Why not?” “I don’t know anyone in them…” he shrugged, a casualness that struck me as odd. “Oh,” I said again, the realization dawning heavy in my chest. “I’m sorry.” “Well—” Tiller and BJ shared a knowing look, the corners of their mouths quirking ever so slightly. “—fine.” I planted my hands on my hips, considering my next words. “So how do you keep up with your friends then?” “I talk to them,” he replied, glancing between BJ and me, his gaze shifting nervously. “All of them?" I asked, shocked. “You have, what, four friends?” “Well, I don’t have a football team of them, so…” he trailed off, trailing into an awkwardness that settled over us. “What are you on about?” BJ prodded, trying to lighten the tension. “You have four friends.” He huffed, as if that should have been entirely sufficient. “Five, if you count me—” “Which I don’t when you’ve got an attitude like the one you’re currently sporting.” I shot him a look, rolling my eyes. I turned back to Tiller. “So, you look fantastic. How long has it been? Probably not since—” “We both know since when,” he interjected, nodding quickly. “You don’t need to say it.” “Oh.” I nodded in acknowledgment, sensing a fragility there. “Is this still a sensitive issue?” “Uh—” Tiller hesitated. “ Because of unresolved feelings you might have for her?” I pressed, my curiosity bubbling to the surface. “What—?” His brow knit, confusion washing over his features. “No. I didn’t—” “Are you still in love with her?” I persisted, unabashedly. “I—no. I didn’t—” This was getting interesting. BJ leaned in closer, his expression firm. “Magnolia.” “Oh—” I glanced up, suppressing my excitement. “Too much?” His smile was tight, but kind. “You could try not talking for twenty seconds. See what happens.” Now that was a challenge I couldn’t resist. “See, I was recently diagnosed with ADHD—" “Oh,” Tiller nodded, taken aback, unsure of how to respond. “It impairs my prefrontal cortex—neurotransmitter levels—and I’ve got lower dopamine. It’s pretty rude. My doctor said that’s probably why I love shopping so much. And, ahem, sex—” “She’s doesn’t have a great filter,” BJ interrupted, shaking his head slightly. Tiller nodded, eyes wide, clearly floundering for words. “My doctor said if my parents had paid more attention, and if my nanny hadn’t been having an affair with my father, they might have noticed it. But in their defense—though I can’t say much—it’s harder to diagnose in girls than in boys—” “I mean—” BJ ventured. “I feel like I knew you had ADHD.” “How?” I squinted at him. “Mostly because I’ve met you.” I crossed my arms, the sting of faux offense lurking on the edge of laughter. “Well, I definitely only have four friends today. Have you met this one—?” I motioned towards Taura, who was still browsing the racks. “Do you know Taura?” “I—” he nodded, and I couldn’t help but notice his gaze lingered on her. “I know who you are, yeah. Hey.” “Hi,” she said softly, seemingly shy now. “What’s this?” I couldn't believe the transformation. Taura, shy? It was unheard of. “Uh—Nazi painting in the basement,” Tiller said lightly, and Taura rolled her eyes. “We’re very proud,” she fired back, though it was evident neither of them would ever be. “You gave it back,” Tiller stated, as if that could possibly smooth over the historical atrocities that had occurred. “True.” Taura smiled, albeit awkwardly. “And she made a sizeable donation to the Jewish National Fund!” I chimed in, wanting to ease any misconceptions from Tiller. “Taura loves Jews!” Tiller chuckled, his expression bewildered. “Okay.” “We all do!” I added enthusiastically, while BJ mumbled something under his breath. “Are you Jewish?” I asked Tiller, intrigued. “Yeah.” He nodded, his bemusement evident. “On Mum’s side.” Dancing with excitement, I leaned closer to BJ and whispered, “What a story for the grandkids—!” He shot me a warning look, prompting me to clear my throat and pivot the conversation. I smiled warmly at Taura, admiration bubbling up. “Isn’t she just gorgeous?” “Um—” Tiller faltered, caught off guard. “Yes.” My gaze narrowed. “Interesting.” BJ narrowed his eyes in warning. “Magnolia—” “What?” I feigned innocence, though I relished every moment of teasing. BJ groaned, exhaling loudly as he gestured at Tiller. “He can hardly say no, can he? She’s right there—” “On what planet is he saying no?” I rebutted, planting my foot firmly, gesturing toward Taura. “Look at her face!” “I’m leaving,” Taura announced, her exasperation evident as she turned and walked away, already irritated. “Sorry—she’s like the human personification of verbal diarrhea,” I said to Tiller, who wore a perplexed expression. “Revolting.” Taura shot me a glare before retreating. “Stop not taking your medicine,” she warned. “Mind your own business!” I shot back, defensive. She smirked, eyeing me warily, and then strolled away, muttering under her breath about not crossing parental lines. I bombarded Tiller with profuse apologies, humor about German manners, and saw BJ shake his head disapprovingly, but I was too caught up in my whirlwind to care much. I chased after Taura, who was already storming down King Street. “Did you feel a spark?” I called after her. “You’re so annoying,” she shot back without even turning. “Did you?” I prompted BJ again, a teasing glint in my eye. “Was it the spark of fury?” he quipped, rolling his eyes. “Did you?” “Maybe?” He grimaced, clearly trying to navigate the landing between Taura and myself. “There was no spark,” she replied, a firmness returning to her voice as she slammed the door of Sandro right in my face, the audacity flipping my stomach. “The gall!” I exclaimed. “Truthfully, that man is so sexy he could have a spark with a wet fish,” I whispered conspiratorially to BJ. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Calm down.” Meandering toward a clothing rack, I played with the coats, pretending to consider the pointelle knit coatigan as if it weren’t already tucked safely in my wardrobe. A sleeveless cardigan caught my eye—cream and black tricot knits, its contrasting stripes whispering Bridget’s name. My heart ached at the thought—she would have worn it effortlessly, cheekily; I could almost hear her laugh. BJ must have sensed my thoughts, nudging me gently with an embrace from behind. “Her vibe for sure,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. Turning the conversation, I glanced at Taura nearby. “Could you fancy him, Taurs?” BJ asked delicately. “Tiller? No! He was with Daisy—” “So what?” I blurted out, shocking myself with my own boldness. BJ nudged me with a side-eye. “It's weird!” Taura declared, a note of finality saturating her tone. BJ shrugged. “You dated two best friends at the same time—” “Yeah, and we can agree that it got pretty fucking weird,” she affirmed, directing a serious look at him. BJ glanced at her, his regard softening with understanding. “You not over him?” The air turned thick with an unsaid tension, and for a moment, we were all caught, suspended in time, unsure of where to move next. The world outside stilled, and the only sound was the distant hum of the bustling street. Finally, Taura with a sigh, nodded once, her expression revealing everything she didn’t dare to say aloud.