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Chapter Two

Leon

It’s not a sign, that I’m late to the airport.

It’s also not a sign that: I had to double back because I forgot my passport, then got a flat tyre, then was somehow double-charged for my Uber here, and spilled my cup of coffee all over my jeans.

It was touch and go for a while whether the flight would even go ahead, the torrential downpour and bad winds having already delayed other flights this afternoon.

The truth, of course, is that I’m looking for a sign.

This wedding is a bad idea.

Which isn’t a new thought, by any stretch.

And I know I’m not the only one who thinks it.

But what are you supposed to do when your sister claims she’s met the love of her life?

When she’s absolutely giddy with it, doesn’t even stop to consider that the engagement and wedding and moving in together all seems a bit rushed, because she’s so completely happy?

You can’t just look her in the eye and tell her she’s wrong.

I was almost praying the flight would be cancelled.

I agreed to do a speech in Dad’s place, and that empty notebook I’ve been carrying around with me for months waiting for inspiration to strike is haunting me.

At least if the flight had been cancelled, I wouldn’t have to go to the wedding at all, and wouldn’t have to stand up there and lie through my teeth about how happy I am – how happy we all are – for Kayleigh.

When I think of this wedding, instead of conjuring up images of my sister glowing with happiness, all I can think of is the strain around the edges of Mum’s smile, how Dad blinked several times before quietly saying, ‘Of course,’ when Kayleigh said she didn’t think he was well enough to walk her down the aisle …

That never would’ve been the case before Marcus.

The beginnings of a speech swirl around in my head. I did enough googling to get an idea of how it’s supposed to start.

The first time we met Marcus , I think, and my brain skids to a halt.

The first time we met Marcus …

I can think of a dozen empty pleasantries that would work here. The way he and Kay looked at each other lit up the room, you could tell they were meant to be, we all knew we’d be celebrating their marriage soon enough …

The first time we met Marcus , I think bitterly, we hoped that’d be the last time we ever saw that pretentious, preening arsehole .

And then I think: There’s got to be a way to stop this wedding.