The Last Word by A. L. Michael Page B

‘Bring cookies.’

Chapter Ten
    Tabby was up and dressed and ready to go by eight a.m. That did not mean she was happy about it. After a night spent drinking cheap red wine with Rhi and moaning about men, Tabby was feeling marginally guilty and massively hung over.
    Maybe she had been irrational, she thought, sitting on her front step with an oversized cardigan and a large pair of sunglasses that weren’t helping at all. She couldn’t even get excited about being in Brighton when the sun was shining, which was a sure sign things weren’t right. The sun shining off the sea was Tabby’s favourite thing in the world. And Harry was ruining it. Well, the three bottles of wine consumed the night before were ruining it, but Harry wasn’t helping.
    Especially when he pulled up in front of her door and beeped the horn loudly, even though he could see her sitting there. And, of course, he had a Porsche. He was leaning out of the window, his shades on, not exactly looking like his chipper self either.
    ‘You getting in, or what?’ he called out.
    ‘Jeez, I’m coming,’ Tabby muttered to herself, grabbing her bag and standing up, dusting herself off. She then silently grumbled about why men insisted on buying cars that you had to be a contortionist to get into. And then they were off.
    Tabby pulled her big scarf around her, and looked out of the window, finally finding the automatic button to slide it down. The breeze helped the hangover, but she started to suspect the queasy feeling in her stomach had a different source.
    ‘Yes, I’m having a wonderful morning, Tabby, thanks for asking. And yes, you’re very welcome for driving you down to Brighton on my weekend off, not a problem at all,’ Harry chattered away sarcastically, not even looking away from the road. She could see his fists clench on the steering wheel though.
    ‘You carry on like this for two hours, I’m throwing myself out of the car, moving or not,’ Tabby spat.
    ‘Oh, don’t make promises, you’ll get a guy’s hopes up.’ He screwed up his face as he spoke, and although he looked like a petulant child, Tabby didn’t feel like this argument was particularly fun.
    She took a minute to truly look at Harry, who was aggressively shifting the gear stick, adjusting the radio and generally doing anything except looking at her. Which was an advantage as she was studying him properly for the first time, without feeling nervous. Maybe it was the fact that they were both wearing sunglasses. Sunglasses always made her feel safe, like she could hide away.
    He looked slightly more worn, and even though she’d seen him yesterday, the stubble was more apparent. She peered down and saw he was wearing Converse, but they were blue, and disappointed her. He was wearing one of his ‘casual’ shirts, which meant it wasn’t so expensive that he freaked out about rolling the sleeves up. She wanted to tell him he’d be cold by the seafront if he hadn’t brought a jumper, even if it was sunny.
    She preferred Harry in sunglasses too, his magical eye contact power was gone.
    ‘Hey Harry?’ She started tentatively.
    He made a noise somewhere between a groan and a huff. ‘Yes?’ He was still irritated.
    ‘Good morning.’
    ‘Good morning.’
    He sounded bored.
    ‘Thank you for driving me to Brighton on your day off.’ She made her voice a little smaller and more nervous than it actually was. Harry wasn’t the only one who knew how to play games. If she folded and seemed upset, he’d cave and check how she was. She knew that. Harry cared about her. If someone threatened her, he’d defend her; if someone upset her, he’d cheer her up. These things were as obvious as how much of a pain in the arse he was. She just didn’t know why.
    ‘That’s…it’s fine.’ He was struggling to stay mad.
    ‘Even though it was your idea,’ she added quickly, and when he looked over at her with irritation, she stuck her tongue out.
    ‘You’re trying to drive me crazy,