Brief summary:

Rose Weasley thought Scorpius Malfoy was the love of her life when she met him and fell in love with him while he was her new Potions professor at Hogwarts. They managed to survive everything life threw at them while they struggled to keep their love a secret. They survived, and when they did, they were happier than ever. Until he left her. Indefinitely. For over a year they had been enjoying a beautiful relationship that came with ups and downs, trials and triumphs. Until Scorpius told Rose he couldn't take it any more - that it was too complicated... that she was too complicated. But is that the real reason he left?

Now Scorpius has returned, and he wants Rose back. But can she forgive him for his destruction? Can she forgive him for making her love him so completely and then leaving misery in his wake? How can she forgive him when she barely survived the agony that he left behind? To complicate matters further, Rose no longer has just herself to look out for. The sequel to "Words Unspoken" will answer all of your unanswered questions. And we will learn that when you want something, you have to take it.

Rated M for mature themes, language, and sexual content.


A/N: Hello my dears! So here it is, the first chapter of the sequel to "Words Unspoken." For those who are seeing this for the first time, know that you should read "Words Unspoken" before you read this story. I think this story can probably stand alone, but there is a lot about the past that you will likely want to know. I will do a lot of recapping throughout the story, but if you want a sense of the characters and who they are, you'll need that background. That story is long, but it is WORTH IT, if I do say so myself.

I will try to update pretty regularly. I want to have a chapter up once a week, but I don't want to make any promises! Go to my tumblr for previews and updates for the story (info on my profile page).

I am VERY excited for this story. I have so much up my sleeve, so please please please let me know what you think because I love hearing from all of you.


Chapter 1: Prologue

Sometimes in life challenges present themselves that are difficult for our minds to comprehend.


July 31, 2025

I had been challenged many times over the past couple years, and I had a feeling—five a half months pregnant with a baby by a man who wanted nothing—less than nothing—to do with me—that there were many more challenges to come in my near and distant future.

I was lying on my back on my bed, rubbing the barely there baby bump, and wondering what it would be like in fourteen weeks when I pushed this baby out from between my legs and welcomed a pink, screaming, tiny human into the world. I wondered what it would be like to cradle the pink, screaming, tiny human in my arms as his soft eyes—like his father's, I just knew they would be—stared up at me in wonder, trying to take in every new sight and sound and sensation that this strange new world brought upon. I wondered if the baby would have my hair or his, my freckles or his pale skin, my ears or his high cheekbones, my round nose or his pointed one, my mouth or his eyebrows.

I wondered what it would be like to experience all of that wonder alone.

Alone.

It had been three months, two weeks, four days, and about eleven hours since I had last seen or spoken to Scorpius Malfoy.

God, I am so alone.

The first month was the hardest. If I was on my deathbed, and anyone asked what the worst time in my life had been, I would give them two times: the night when I had to say goodbye to my father thinking that he was going to die from some unknown curse, and the month following my break up with Scorpius. For the first week, I had called and texted him incessantly, begging him to come back, begging him to just talk to me. Begging. I had gone to his apartment in London, I had gone to Hogwarts, I had gone to the Manor, but he had already gone to the States. There was no way for me to reach him, so I sent him owls, but each of them returned to me with the letters still tied to their feet and sad, fucking pitying, looks on their faces, like they knew what was in those letters and they knew I was alone.

Utterly fucking alone.

After that it got easier. Slowly. Steadily. Very, very slowly. It got better.

Sometimes it was hard to imagine. There were days when the pain was overwhelming and crushing and unbearable and it felt like my head was going to explode and my legs were going to buckle and my whole body was going to give out because I couldn't take the unbelievable weight that was my life.

Other times I felt light.

I was pregnant and I was happy about that. Yes, Scorpius wanted nothing to do with me, but I was going to have a fucking baby. I was going to push a new life out of my body and it was going to look at me and love me unconditionally with wide eyes that saw nothing in me but hope and wonder and joy and love. How cool was that? How fucking beautiful was that?

I missed him.

Yes, of course, I missed him. I missed him so much I ached. I missed his smell most of all. I missed the way his neck smelled and the way I would inhale the scent like it was my life force whenever I would bury my face in his neck and take in as much of his scent as I could. I missed his strength. He could lift me up and toss me onto a bed like I weighed nothing. It made me feel feminine—a feeling I rarely ever experienced. I missed the strength of his arms around me. God, I missed how fucking safe he made me feel—how in his arms, I just instinctively knew that everything was going to be okay. I missed being connected with him. I missed the way he felt when his body was coming over mine and the anticipation thick in my abdomen made me squirm as I would look up at him and know that any moment we were going to be inextricably, powerfully, unbearably intertwined. And I was going to lose myself in the feel of him, hot, hard, strong, and—

I yelped and jolted up in my bed when I heard the sound of the buzzer to my flat sounding from the other room. With a groan and a hazy attempt to clear my head of the direction my thoughts had just been headed—a direction from which I had firmly steered clear for months—I got up and walked through my bedroom, through the sitting room, and to the intercom next to my door. With a sigh, I hit the "talk" button.

"Hello?"

"Rose, it's me. Buzz me up."

"Albus—"

"No complaints. Open the door. It's your goddamn birthday."

My fucking birthday, I thought as I hit the buzzer and opened my door for Albus to come in, and then I moved to flop down on my couch. I was nineteen fucking years old, and for all intents and purposes, I had a great life. My band and I had a fucking record deal. We weren't a household name, but we had fans. I was nineteen and people wanted to know me. Or something, I don't know. If only they knew about the complete mess I had made of my life. Yeah. They wouldn't want to know me then.

"Rose—"

Albus cut himself off when he saw me sitting on the couch, sunken into the cushions, staring at his tall, lean frame standing in the doorway, with his eyes bright—the eyes that looked so much like his father's. He was holding a white box with a red ribbon tied around it in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

"What?" I said snarkily, after he had stared at me with a strange look on his face for longer than I cared to deal with. "I showered today and I even fixed my hair. So what—"

"You look beautiful," he said, and he surprised me when his eyes began to glisten.

I gave him a look of complete and utter shock. "What the hell?"

He sucked in a breath. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head and moving into my kitchen to find a vase to put the flowers in. I heard him opening and closing cabinets and sniffing.

"Under the sink," I called out before standing up and walking to the bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of my flat. "What's your problem?" I asked him, his back turned to me as he turned on the faucet and began filling a vase he had found under my sink with water.

He put the flowers in the vase and turned around. "You're pregnant," he said, as he set the vase down on my counter.

"Yes," I said with an eye roll. "What gave it away? My lack of ability to fit into this t-shirt? My enormous breasts?"

"You're glowing."

I gaped at him and then closed my mouth and just shook my head. "Jesus Christ, you sound like Hermione," I said. "I'm glowing? Really?"

Albus let out a shaky laugh and leaned forward on his elbows. "Sorry—I just—man, you're really, actually pregnant. I… I don't know."

I shook my head. "And you realized this… today?"

"I didn't notice you glowing until today?" he said with a smile and a shrug.

"Oh my god, stop saying that," I said as I stood up from the stool I was at and moved back to my couch.

"Have you eaten today?" Albus asked as he walked around and sat on the chair that sat at a right angle to my couch. I reached for the control and flipped on the television so I could flip through channels.

"My god, you are Hermione. Yes, mum, I had fucking organic granola with flaxseeds and fucking soy milk this morning. Happy?"

Albus laughed and scooted the white box he had brought in front of me. "I wasn't scolding you," he said. "I brought you treats, and I wanted to make sure you could eat them."

I gave him a narrow-eyed look as I leaned forward and pulled the string on the ribbon around the white box and pushed it aside. "You're being so weird today," I said as I opened the box. Then I gasped. "Are these from—?"

"That place down the block, yes," he said with a grin.

I pulled out a cupcake from the box, pulled the wrapper down slightly and sank my teeth into it. My eyes fluttered shut and I sighed as I leaned back and took in all the incredible flavors of raspberry filling and perfect, sugary icing and the fluffiest yellow cake anyone has ever had.

"God, I love you," I said with a mouth full of cupcake.

"I hate when you talk with your mouth full."

"All this sugar is bad for the baby, you know."

"It's your birthday. You won't kill him." I hummed in response and Albus chuckled and took the remote control from my hands and began flipping through channels as I savored my birthday treat. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

I nodded, and Albus looked at me.

"Are you serious?"

I nodded again.

"Well?"

I shook my head.

"You're so annoying."

I grinned and nodded.

"Have you told Ron and Hermione?"

"No way," I said after I swallowed. "Hermione wants me to name them after her dead, great muggle uncle. His name was Bartholomew. As if."

"That could be a cute name," Albus said. "Little Barty."

"Hermione?" I said, giving him a look. "Is that you in there? Did you take polyjuice potion or something?"

Albus rolled his eyes at me. "She's excited for the dinner tonight."

I looked away and was suddenly very interested in my now empty cupcake wrapper.

"Rose," Albus said in a warning tone. I didn't look up. "You're going tonight no matter what you say."

I made a high-pitched whining sound. "Albus—"

"It's for your birthday!" he said incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"But I'm nineteen. That's such a stupid birthday. Why—well, why should I celebrate—I have nothing to celebrate. And I'm tired. I'm… pregnant?" I tried, hoping that would be enough to get me out of the dinner that I was sure was going to make me miserable.

"Uh-uh, no way. You're not using that excuse. You're fucking five months pregnant. You're not about to burst—"

"Almost six months!" I interrupted indignantly.

"You're going to this dinner and that's that."

"But it's going to be so dumb—"

"Dumb? Really, are you five?"

"—and James isn't even going. So it's going to be me and you, our fucking parents, Lily, and Hugo—and ugh! Oh my god, is Hugo's god-awful girlfriend going to be there? Albus!" I whined.

Albus sighed, understanding my last point. He hated Hugo's new girlfriend just as much as I did, possibly more. She was always asking me questions about being pregnant—invasive and fucking inappropriate questions about cocoa butter and gas—and asking him questions about being gay—invasive and fucking inappropriate questions about lube and public displays of affection in the muggle world.

"Yeah, she is bloody awful, isn't she?"

"What was he thinking, breaking up with Meg?"

"Well… I don't know," Albus shrugged. "Long distance is hard enough, but when one of you is at Hogwarts… it's nearly impossible."

"Yeah," I said with a scoff. "Tell me about it."

Albus looked at me, and when the realization of what he'd said dawned on him, a look of sympathy flooded his features. "Oh. I'm sorry, Rose."

I waved him off. "It's fine. I'm over it."

He scoffed. "No you're not. You—"

"Meg is just so fucking beautiful," I said quickly, desperately trying to divert the subject from the topic of my relationship with Scorpius. After crying for nearly two months, my new strategy was just to avoid, avoid, avoid. "I was always so jealous of her hair. Especially when she started to grow it out."

Albus rolled his eyes. "Why would you be jealous of anyone's hair? Everyone envies your hair. You're so annoying."

"Did you come here to insult me on my birthday?" I said, leaning forward and snatching my remote control out of his hand so I could change the channel from whatever science channel Albus had landed on. I tuned in to one of my favorite reality shows about a group of women who are trying to become actresses while they all live together in New York City. It was trash. But I loved it.

"Oh, shut up." He paused briefly. "Actually…"

I shot my head over to him, knowing that tone and knowing he was about to say something that I wasn't going to like. "What."

"I'm glad you brought up Meg…"

I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah?" I said slowly.

"I think you should—okay, she's been really bad since she and Hugo broke up," Albus started. "She's back to her old antics."

"And what 'antics' would those be?" I asked, holding up air quotations.

"Sleeping around, basically," Albus said casually. "She's heartbroken over Hugo."

"How do you know that?"

Albus sighed. "Not everyone dropped off the map after Hogwarts like you. She and Fergie are friends."

"Oh."

"Yeah, well, anyway, I think you should talk to her—"

I gaped, stunned. It was the absolute last thing I thought he would say. "WHAT—"

"Both of you handle break ups poorly—"

"—oh, thanks—"

"—and she needs someone to talk to who understands what she's going through."

"So, what then? You want us two bitter sisters to sit around and drink red wine and talk about how terrible every man on earth is?"

"Well." He paused. "Yes. Sort of."

"Albus…" I sighed. I leaned up on the couch and put my elbows on my knees so I could put my face in my hands. Maybe he was right. Maybe I could use someone to talk to that wasn't Albus because that was clearly what this was. He was over me. I couldn't say I blamed him. He was tired of me bitching about Scorpius and crying all the time and never wanting to leave my flat because as much as I lied to myself and everyone around me that I was over it—over him—I wasn't. And everyone knew it.

"I'm sorry I've been putting this burden on you," I said into my hands.

"Rose—"

"You're right," I continued. "I know I'm unbearable when I get broken up with. I know it's been hard on you and—"

"Rose, hey."

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see Albus leaned in toward me. "That's not what this is about. You're not a burden on me or on anyone. Look." He put his elbows on his knees and leaned in as he clasped his hands in front of him. "You deserve to be upset. You're pregnant, and the father isn't around, and you're scared and you're angry, and you should be," he said emphatically. Then he paused. "But I… I think…" He sighed. "I think maybe it would help to talk to someone who… gets it." He put a hand on my knee, and I finally took my hands away from my face and looked at him. He smiled at the pout I was wearing. "I'm here for you, I am. Really. But I think if you and Meg were to talk, you could help each other. More than I can help you."

There was a long silence and then I said, "Okay."

"Okay?"

Our eyes met and I nodded. "I'll talk to her."

"Okay," Albus sighed with a grin. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," I said as I leaned back and rubbed my stomach briefly before letting my hands settle there. "Anyway." Albus took the remote from me again and leaned back in his chair so he could flip through the channels. I rolled my eyes, but didn't stop him.

"James is going tonight, by the way. He called me earlier."

"Oh, great. He didn't call me, even though it is my birthday."

"Well, he wanted to surprise you, but I figured it would give you incentive to go."

"Ugh. Fine. Well, I'm bringing Ainsley then."

"Oh. Okay." Albus chuckled a bit with a shrug. "Why, though, I thought you wanted to keep it small?"

"I do. But if James is going, I'm going to take this opportunity to get him and Ainsley together again. It's perfect timing. Ainsley broke up with Otto about a month ago, and James isn't currently shagging anyone." Albus gave me a look, and I put my hands up. "Hey, if I'm going, I want to have fun. And it just so happens that I have fun when I'm setting up people who clearly belong together."

Albus shook his head. "Whatever."

"You're bringing Fergie, right?"

"I'm going to try. He's been really busy with work lately—"

"Excuse me," I interjected. "If he wants my blessing when you two inevitably want to get married, he's going to have to make some concessions. Tell him he's coming. Or else."

"Jesus." Albus laughed loudly. "Fine. I'll do what I can." He shook his head, still chuckling to himself and I withheld a smile.

There was a brief silence, and then Albus cleared his throat, his laughter fading. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I knew what that meant. A throat clear. We were about to get serious again. God. This was getting exhausting.

"Just spit it out."

"How did you—?"

"I know you better than you know yourself, Albus Severus. What is it?"

He shot me a look, and I gave him a fake smile. He hated his middle name. But he forewent yelling at me about it for his obvious preference that we have some kind of serious discussion. I braced myself for whatever god-awful thing it was this time. Then he bit the inside of his cheek. "Well… it's Guy."

I frowned. I hadn't expected that. Guy was the band's manager, given to us by the label, Magic Wand Records. He was tall and dark and sexy and French and covered in tattoos, and they way he said "It's pronounced GEE," sometimes made me shiver. "What about him?"

"I talked to him about you wanting to postpone the release of the new album…" Albus kept his eyes firmly on the television set. "He was not happy."

I put my hands underneath me to adjust so I could sit up a bit straighter, in preparation for this discussion. I immediately felt the beginnings of anger and frustration creeping up my spine. I breathed in deeply. Hermione was insistent that I not let things bother me. According to her, the negative energy affects the baby. Fine. "Did you explain to him that the song he wants so desperately isn't ready?" I said with forced calm.

"He says it is."

I shook my head quickly. "No. It isn't," I snapped. Then I blinked slowly and exhaled through my nose. When I spoke again, my tone was more even, albeit tense. "I don't understand what he doesn't get about that. He's supposed to be our manager. He's supposed to—"

"He is our manager, yes, but he works for the label," Albus said evenly, diplomatically. His calm only served to anger me more. "They want the album to drop next week, and they don't want to wait."

"Al—"

"Rose, we've already postponed twice. The song is ready. What more do you want to do to it?"

I took a deep breath and then exhaled as slowly as I could in an attempt to reign in the anger that so desperately wanted to burst forth. Albus, Guy, the label—they didn't understand. They didn't know what that song meant to me, and they didn't understand that it had to be perfect. They didn't understand that it was a part of me—part of my soul—and if it was on that album and it was anything less than perfect, it would kill me.

I clenched my jaw.

Shortly after I had broken up with Scorpius, I had thrown myself into writing. Thoroughly and absolutely, needing something to distract me from my thoughts—needing something to occupy my time other than crying into my pillow all day and all night long.

The label had been talking about a new album for months, and I was so torn apart that I knew I had to find an outlet. I had been in the studio one afternoon, and I had been trying to think, trying to write, trying to do anything but loathe myself so severely, but the pain had overwhelmed me. I cried while sitting in the recording booth, my acoustic in my hand, and I thought of all the reasons why I hated Scorpius and I hated myself. And then I grabbed a pen and I wrote it all down.

I had written the song in record time.

It was about pain. Suffering. Heartbreak. And despite how horrible I had felt when I wrote it, it had felt so good to sing it, to feel it. I had been holding everything inside for weeks, but in that moment, it was the first time that I felt even slightly better. I felt like I could say what I wanted to say and feel how I wanted to feel. I felt in control for the first time since he'd left me.

It wasn't until I had finished that I had realized that Guy was listening, watching me from outside. He had walked in, told me how beautiful it was, and insisted that it go on the new album. That was the first time we had postponed. After tweaking the song and beating it to death, I had begged for a second postponement. Because Albus had explained that I was going through a break up—with fucking pregnancy hormones on top of it—and because Guy knew I was having a hard time, Guy talked to the label, and they gave the okay. Now, the album was supposed to drop in a week, and I just wasn't ready.

I didn't know if I could handle that song being anywhere but beating inside my own heart.

"Albus, it has to be perfect," I said finally.

Albus gave me a sympathetic but supportive look. "It is."

"No, it's—"

"Rose," he said firmly, stopping me. "That song is the most beautiful and heart wrenching song you have ever written. It gives me chills every time I hear it. If you do anything else to it, you'll destroy it."

I took a shaky breath, and after a long pause, I spoke. "Fine. I'll call him tomorrow and tell him we're all set to release."

Albus grinned broadly. "Wonderful."

"But if it's not ready, I'm going to complain to you for months."

"Okay, I should probably quit while I'm ahead, but there's something else," Albus said, ignoring my last statement, as he was wont to do when I was acting like a fussy baby. "He wants us to go on tour soon after the baby is born."

"What?" I gave him an incredulous look. "Is he serious? Are you serious?"

"He said he could wait six weeks."

"Oh, how fucking kind of him. Let me get this straight. He wants me to leave my newborn baby after six weeks so I can go on a tour around Europe."

"He said you can bring the baby," Albus suggested hesitantly.

I gaped at him. "Wow, how generous. Yes, let me bring my newborn on a fucking rock and roll tour."

"You act like we're shooting up heroin and banging prostitutes. I have a serious boyfriend. Nate is about to get married, and—"

"And Lysander does practically bang prostitutes."

"We'll establish ground rules."

"Albus—"

"You don't have to decide now," Albus said quickly. "We can work it out."

I narrowed my eyes at him and sank into my couch a bit. We fell into silence as I contemplated that angry talk I was going to have to have with my manager. He always did shit like this. He was tall and gorgeous and looked like a rock star and he had his stupid sexy French accent, and so he was used to people obeying his every whim. Well, I wasn't going to let him or the label bully me into doing something I didn't want to do, no matter what. I was exhausted. I was tired of fighting and begging and pleading, and I just wanted to rest. I needed a fucking break from my life. Just five minutes to sit alone and not worry about my band or Scorpius or pissing off Guy or the impending birth of the fucking fetus growing inside me. Just five minutes to forget all of it. And I could be happy.

No one understood. Not my parents, not Albus, not anyone. They didn't understand the torture that I faced knowing that Scorpius and I were done for good. Forever. Indefinitely. It had been over three excruciating months, and no one understood the weight on my shoulders—the unbearable fucking pressure that felt like there was just a thousand pounds hanging on my back and trying to claw its way up to my brain. No one understood how it felt to know that the one person you know is the perfect one for you is gone forever.

"Scorpius is coming back."

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Albus's quiet, tentative voice.

I couldn't have heard him correctly. My face fell. I had to be in shock. There was absolutely no way I was hearing what I was hearing. Scorpius was gone. He was off living a happy life in America. The perfect one for me was gone forever. Of course he wasn't coming back. He was gone. Indefinitely.

Indefinitely indefinitely INDEFINITELY.

No, that wasn't right. It couldn't be. And how was Albus just saying this so casually—like he didn't realize the agony that simple sentence was causing me?

"Mum ran into Astoria in Diagon Alley."

I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. He was gone. He wasn't coming back. No one understood, and now Albus was lying to me or he was misinformed or—

"She said she didn't know for how long or when exactly, but he's coming back. I just… thought you should know."

I could feel my breath coming fast. I could feel my vision blurring. Albus was saying something, but I couldn't hear him.

Then I felt a hand on my back, and I realized I was bent forward and my head was between my legs, and I was crying, and then Albus's arms were around me and I was fine.

I'm fine.

He's coming back.

Scorpius is coming back.

And I am fine.


Later that night, Albus was walking me up the path that led to the front steps of my parents' home on Godric's Landing, a quiet street in Godric's Hollow on which both Albus's parents and my parents lived.

I loved this street. I could remember growing up here. As we walked up the path, I could see a scene from the past: a small, red-headed girl with too many freckles, chasing after a boy with black hair and bright green eyes who was holding a red, round ball. They had broomsticks in their hands, but had clearly dismounted them for the sake of running through the yard after each other instead.

I smiled, remembering that I adored Albus even then. He was only a few months older than me, but I had always looked up to him like an older brother and loved spending time with him.

I glanced over at him. He looked simply dashing in the silver button down underneath his two-piece suit. He had foregone a tie, so the top button was open. The dark colors made his eyes stand out even more than they normally did. I was wearing a floral dress with short sleeves and v-neck that my mother had purchased for me the day we had gone out shopping and I told her I was pregnant.

"Are you sure I have to do this?" I asked with a sigh when Albus's hand went to the knob of the door.

"Stop being so dramatic," Albus said with an eye roll as he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

"SURPRISE!"

I froze.

"Remember that we're your family and we love you," Albus whispered to me as soon as we stepped over the threshold and I was met with a swarm of at least thirty smiling faces who all wanted to greet me and hug me and wish me a happy birthday.

"Albus," I growled under my breath.

He gave me a sheepish smile and slithered away to where I saw Fergie smiling and standing in the corner. He waved in my direction and I glared at him. I saw him laughing before I was accosted by the rest of my family.

I'm going to kill him.

My mother was the first to reach me.

"I know you said you didn't want a party—"

"—Yes, I did say that—"

"—but I couldn't resist."

"Hermione—"

"You've been so sad for so long," she said as she hugged me tightly and I felt my chest clench. "I thought this might help."

Hours later, it actually turned out that she was right. I had forgotten, in my grief, that it wasn't healthy for me to be holed up alone with my thoughts and my angst—I needed to be around people. I needed to be around love. And that was exactly what I was getting that night.

After I had talked to everyone individually and everyone had wished me a happy birthday, I was standing with my old friend from Hogwarts, Ainsley Dale, a pretty, thin, tall woman with long blonde hair and honey brown eyes, while eating one of the mini-sandwiches that my mother had made for the occasion. She was sipping a dark liquid out of a small tumbler, which I assumed was Albus's secret stash of muggle scotch that he brought for just such family gatherings.

There was a lull in our conversation, and I swallowed.

"So, James is single."

Ainsley choked on her drink, and I smiled and reached down toward the end table and handed her a napkin.

She dabbed her mouth and looked at me. "Why should I care?" she asked when she stopped coughing, her voice hoarse.

"Because you've clearly been in love with him since we were fourth years, and he's hardly ever single so you have to grab him while you have the chance."

"Been there, done that, remember?"

I shrugged. "I have a theory—"

"—I don't want to hear it—"

"—that the reason James never keeps girls for long is because—"

"—stop, Rose—"

"—is because he hasn't found anyone as good as you."

Ainsley sighed and paused. I waited for her response, trying to bite back a grin. She was wearing a sleeveless, red lace dress that was tight on her cleavage and then flared out below that. She was also wearing four-inch red heels that made her long legs look even longer. She looked stunning as always, and I had noticed James sneaking glances at her all night.

"I can't put myself through it," she finally said with a shrug.

I refused to back down that easily. "And why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes you do. There's another reason."

"You know how he is," she insisted.

"Do I?" I said innocently.

"Oh, shut up, Rose. Your cousin will never settle down. He loves dating—if you can even call it that—dating any woman who will have him, and I'm not going to be another one he just dates, shags, and then throws out. I already did it once and I won't do it again."

I frowned. "It was four years ago."

"I don't care." Ainsley crossed her arms.

"You two are soul mates," I said matter-of-factly. I popped the last piece of the mini-sandwich into my mouth. "No matter what you say."

"Have you decided on a name yet?"

"Nice try, Dale," I said. "Look, you ditched stupid Otto, and James has been single for two months—longer than he ever has. It is perfect timing. I know you think he's going to ditch you, but I think he's changed."

There was a long pause. "God, he does look bloody hot tonight," she said.

I made a face and followed her line of sight to where James was standing with Fergie and Albus, telling a story that was making Fergie laugh and Albus scowl. When Albus caught my eye, he nearly sagged with relief. Without a word he walked away from Fergie and James and headed in our direction.

"Is James telling embarrassing stories about you?" I said in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up," Albus huffed. He looked at Ainsley. "When are you going to get my brother away from my boyfriend and shag him into distraction?"

"Will you two cut it out! I'm not getting with James," Ainsley hissed. "Period."

"She was just saying how hot he was before you came over," I said.

Albus's eyes shot up to his hairline. "Yeah," he said, turning to me. "We are definitely going to be playing matchmaker."