The Becoming of Noah Shaw (The Shaw Confessions #1)(15)

Meanwhile, Mara’s begun rummaging through my luggage, and for the briefest of moments, my stomach drops. The will is somewhere in there, and the letter, and the moment I realise she might see them, and read them, is the moment I realise I don’t want her to. I will tell her. Just . . . not yet.

“I’ll dress myself, thank you,” I say, trying to edge in ever so casually. Which bag did I put the documents in? I can’t even remember.

She shrugs. “Okay. If you wear the blue stripey shirt, I’ll have sex with you later. But it’s up to you.”

“Will you hand me my bollocks when you get a moment? They’re in one of your bags, I think.”

She looks at me with doe’s eyes and a shark’s smile as I dress. On our way out, we catch our reflection in the mirror. Mara rises to tiptoes and nips at the lobe of my ear before whispering, “Good choice.”



We get to the restaurant just before Goose does. He exits a cab, and I glimpse a pair of long, crossed legs dangling inside. A burst of female laughter erupts before the door slams.

I arch my eyebrows, and Goose says, “Those Brazilian arse lifts are in fact a real thing.”

Mara looks from him to me, back to him again. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing. Your arse is perfect,” I say, squeezing it.

A roll of eyes and a swing of hips and she’s inside the restaurant, which is bursting with people. It didn’t sound nearly this loud over the phone—even without my ability, I’d hardly be able to hear anyone over the roar. As it is, my head feels spinny.

“All right, mate?” Goose asks, and I nod quick. Not good that he noticed.

“Sister!” I hear Daniel’s shout above the rest, see his tall frame unfold from behind a long table. Mara hugs her brother gently, then Jamie fiercely.

“I missed you,” she says over the noise. “Both of you.” I’d probably say the same, if I wouldn’t rather die than admit it.

“It’s only been a week,” Daniel says.

“I know. But it felt longer. England’s weird.”

“Is it?” Goose asks her.

Jamie notices Goose for the first time. “Noah,” he says, eyes remaining on my sort-of-childhood friend. “You came bearing gifts.”

“Hey,” Daniel says, reaching up to shake his hand. “I’m Daniel, Mara’s brother.”

A nod and smile. “Goose. Noah’s Westminster plaything.”

A bat of Jamie’s lashes. “So all of my English boarding school fantasies are true.”

“I’m Sophie,” Daniel’s girlfriend says with a bright, open smile, the corners of which reach the tips of her nearly white blond hair.

“What kind of a name is Goose?” Jamie asks, feigning interest in the champagne sweating on the table, which he pours into Goose’s glass before I take it and fill ours.

“The kind of name one earns at English public schools such as ours when one engages in the sort of ill behaviour we have.”

“So a nickname, then?”

“One doesn’t divulge the origins of such a name. Removes all mystery.”

In point of fact, I couldn’t even remember the origins myself. He was just always . . . Goose. Of course, he was Alastair Greaves in truth, but no one has ever called him that in my hearing.

Jamie turns to Daniel. “I can’t really imagine whispering ‘Goose’ in bed, can you?”

A firm shake of Daniel’s head. “Not even dignifying the question with an answer.”

“Now, did you do something to a goose to earn your moniker?”

Goosey pretends to think about it for a moment. “Not so much ‘to’ as ‘with,’ I’d say.”

“The goose verbally consented,” I say.

Daniel turns to Sophie. “I post- and preemptively apologise for literally everyone at this table, for everything they’ve said or are going to say, for the rest of the night.”

“Apology accepted,” she says, kissing Daniel on the cheek.

“I think you have competition for your most-disgusting-couple award,” Jamie says to Mara.

“We’re not disgusting,” Mara says, then pauses thoughtfully. “We’re . . .”

“Smutty?”

“Yes!”

“I do have other friends,” Daniel says to Sophie.

Mara raises her glass. “But only one sister.”

“I will drink to that.” Daniel clinks his glass to hers.

“So what are you all doing in New York?” Sophie looks at each of us.

Jamie lies first. “Early admission to NYU.”

Sophie’s eyebrows scrunch together. “That’s . . . I didn’t know that was a thing,” she says slowly. “So you graduated from Croyden early?”

“Yes,” Jamie says, his voice distinct and resonant now. The Jedi mind-fuck at work. “Mara and Noah too, in point of fact.” It’s the party line we’re towing—Mara’s family swallowed it eagerly. They want to believe; Jamie just helps them along.

Sophie nods, grins broadly, erasing all signs of scepticism. “And you guys”—she looks at us—“Are you going to stay here too?”

Mara’s nose wrinkles with her smile. “Yeah,” she says, turning to me. “I think we are.”