Page 12

Chapter Twelve

Francesca

Leon pushes away from the table abruptly, his chair knocking into someone behind him.

He mutters that he needs some air and trudges away, his thick legs and broad shoulders making him clumsy as he manoeuvres between people.

I feel my whole face burning, my palms turning clammy, a wave of panic rising – is he going to call Kayleigh?

Tell her about me, about …? It was only a text, but he clearly doesn’t think very much of me or how Marcus calls me his ‘work wife’ …

Maybe it would be a good thing if he told Kayleigh something was going on between me and Marcus? She might call off the wedding. But then what if Marcus thought I’d lied, and never heard me out, and we lost our chance all over again?

For all my excited, romantic notions leading up to this weekend, I’m starting to think it won’t be as painless as it looks in the movies after all.

Gemma pushes her bag into Leon’s empty chair to keep it reserved, though she’s pulling a face as she watches him go.

‘What crawled up his arse and died?’

Me , I think. But I say, ‘He’s not always like this?’

Gemma scoffs. ‘Are you kidding me? That guy wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’

‘I’m not sure anybody would choose to say boo to a goose. Aren’t they quite aggressive?’

Gemma ponders it for a moment, then bats it away with a sharp flick of her hand. ‘Whatever. He’s a softie, is my point. I don’t know what this whole … this Jon Snow act is about.’ She glances at me, then adds quickly, ‘All broody bastard. It was a joke.’

‘I got that.’

‘Like he’s got anything to stress about.

’ Gemma snorts. She reaches for her cup, then clicks her tongue when she remembers it’s empty.

‘Like Kayleigh’s going to be blaming him if anything goes tits up because he wasn’t there.

He’ll miss out on a pint with some of the cousins, oh no .

Meanwhile, I’ve got an entire to-do list of things the bride is expecting me to see to because she just looooves the drama and acts like everything is going to go wrong … ’

She trails off with a testy sigh, glowering into the distance.

‘That sounds tough. But I guess it’s very stressful, planning a wedding.

Anybody would get a bit worked up about it,’ I say carefully, although I’m thinking that sounds an awful lot like the person Marcus talks about.

I shouldn’t badmouth the bride to her best friend; but Gemma is entitled to vent, isn’t she?

She seems to realise she might have spoken a bit out of turn, giving me the impression that she wasn’t saying it to me, so much as getting it off her chest. Gemma plonks an elbow on the table, resting her cheek on her fist to pin me with a look.

But then she says the last thing I’m expecting, and tells me, ‘Fran, I’m gonna level with you – this has nothing to do with the wedding . This isn’t a bridezilla situation. She’s just a pill. Do people say that anymore? Either way, she is.’

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anybody called a ‘pill’, but it doesn’t sound very nice.

‘But you know,’ she adds then, ‘Marcus is too, so they’re great together.’

‘Marcus isn’t … He’s … I mean …’

One of her eyebrows quirks up slightly behind her glasses frames, and her gaze sharpens.

‘I don’t really know Kayleigh that well,’ I say, ‘we’ve only met a few times. I just mean that he’s … I’m surprised you think that of Marcus, is all I’m trying to say.’

She gives a crisp laugh. ‘Well, you know him. You know what he’s like. Hardly a saint, is he? Mr Goody Two-Shoes, like Leon over there.’ She jerks her head in the direction he left, grin widening as she rolls her eyes with affection.

But I can’t join in, can’t say anything. That’s not the Marcus I know, not at all.

Does Kayleigh bring out a worse side of him?

Or is it … is it me, bringing out something better in him?

My heart gives a little flutter inside my chest, like a hummingbird. See? It seems to say. You are meant to be. Whatever the two of you have, it is special, because he doesn’t have it with her.

Gemma is waiting for me to say something, but I’m not sure that defending Marcus is the right move. It’ll sound like I’m agreeing that Kayleigh is awful, and I don’t want to do that.

Offence might be the best defence here, so I settle for saying to Gemma, ‘Maybe it upset Leon because you called his sister a bitch.’

She shows all her teeth now. ‘I didn’t hear you disagreeing.’

‘You caught me off guard, is all.’

‘Please. We both know she’s a bitch. If he wants to stick his head in the sand …

’ She holds her palms up in surrender. ‘Anyway, it’s obviously not me he’s angry at.

Cut the tension between you two with a knife , my God.

It’s like you were two seconds away from either mauling each other with your bare hands or fucking. ’

I choke on my inhale, my cheeks heating. ‘That is not— ’

Gemma laughs. This one sounds less pretty than before, more brash – more sincere. ‘I’m just kidding. That poor boy … Oh, he’s a missionary man. Right? You see it.’

‘Um …’

I have no idea how we got here, but I do know I’d like to steer the conversation anywhere else.

Gemma must sense that and take pity because she leans in a bit closer, eyes sparkling with childlike mischief, and she folds her hands under her chin. ‘So? What did you say to piss him off? What’s he got against you so bad? I’ve never seen him this riled up.’

‘I … didn’t, really.’ It’s not exactly reassuring to hear that this isn’t normal for him, though, and therefore must be to do with me. ‘I just – I got a text from Marcus. He was weird about it.’

‘Why?’ Then she gasps, and jokes, ‘Was it a dick pic? I’m not being funny, but I’d be pretty mad if I saw my brother-in-law’s dick, too. And they never look very good in photos, do they? Like, I’ve never looked at a dick pic and thought, Wow, that’s attractive, consider me turned on . Have you?’

‘Uh … n-no.’

‘Women just photograph so much better . And I’m not saying I don’t love a good penis, but they’re ugly things, sometimes, aren’t they?’

An awkward smile cracks my mouth. ‘Kind of, yeah. But, um, that wasn’t …

I mean, it wasn’t anything like that. From Marcus.

He was just saying it was a shame I was stuck here.

Well, that I wouldn’t make it for drinks with everyone after dinner tonight.

Not that it’s a shame I’m stuck here with you guys, of course, but … ’

‘Let’s see.’

‘Um.’ I seem to be only capable of stuttering and stammering in the face of Gemma’s unabashed confidence. I feel like a bumbling idiot, while she’s a queen of self-assuredness. She’s even holding her palm out, ready and waiting for my phone.

It’s so invasive that I’m too shocked to be outraged. Does she suspect something of me, like Leon? She will, if I refuse to show her the text.

Left with no other choice, I unlock my phone, which is still open to our texts, and hand it over.

Gemma takes it delicately, finger poised above the screen as she reads.

There’s nothing incriminating.

It really is just a text.

Hey babe, just catching up properly on this now!

That SUCKS, I’m so sorry you got caught in the weather.

Grr! Fingers crossed you make it sooner than later – won’t be the same without you.

I was counting on you being here to kick Tony’s arse at pool with me, lol!

We’ll have an extra shot for you. Keep me posted about the flight, yeah?

Safe travels and can’t wait to see you tomorrow! xx

Gemma reads it at least twice, then scrolls further up the chat. I swallow down the noise of indignation and protest that rises in my throat, and fight to keep my hands from snatching my phone back.

I know what she’ll see. Me letting him know about something that happened at work that he would’ve found funny (he did laugh-react); me wishing him a nice few days in Spain ahead of the wedding and him sending back a selfie giving a thumbs-up at the camera from next to the pool, beneath a big straw parasol.

There’s nothing to see .

Not unless you go looking. Not unless you’re reading between the lines, and thinking about how he’s sent me a shirtless selfie he didn’t really need to send but obviously wanted me to see, or thinking about the two kisses on the end of his text, or the in-jokes and tongue-out winky-face emojis sprinkled throughout, or …

On the surface, it really is just a friendly chat. Something that, if Kayleigh saw, he’d be able to say, No, don’t be silly, there’s nothing going on, that’s just how I talk …

But Gemma’s not an idiot, and I know she must be seeing all the things I see.

The same things I can’t tell my friends about, because they know Marcus is engaged and I pretend it’s all just friendly chat to them … And the same things I screenshot and send to my sister to eagerly dissect, knowing there’s a flirty edge to them.

Gemma hands the phone back to me.

‘Leon should get his head out of his arse,’ she says. ‘And seriously, who types “grr” in a text like that? What an ick.’

I laugh. I think I laugh, anyway. There’s a ringing sound in my ears and the relief that she didn’t find anything is positively crushing, smothers all the air out of my lungs.

I say something like, ‘Tell me about it,’ and count my lucky stars.

I think I need a second or two to recover, actually, so I stand up and pick up her empty cup, along with my own.

‘I think I’m going to get another drink. Do you want one?’

‘Yes please! Same again.’ She beams at me, and pushes her glasses up her nose with the tip of her middle finger. ‘And then you can tell me all about why my best friend’s fiancé is busy flirting with you when he’s about to get married.’

My stomach plummets through the floor.

And Leon’s voice behind me says, ‘ What? ’