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I don’t hear one word of the ceremony. Not a dot. Annabella turns to search me out a few times, but I focus on Lainey’s hand on my knee and her smile on my profile every now and then. “That woman keeps staring at you,” Lainey whispers, as everyone starts to clap and cheer when the couple are declared man and wife.
I don’t need to ask Lainey who she’s talking about. A quick glance toward the row of bridesmaids confirms what I already know. “Ignore her,” I order gently.
“I would, but she keeps staring at me, too. Who is she?”
“My ex-wife.”
“What?” Lainey shoots me a shocked look. “She’s here?”
“She’s a good friend of my cousin,” I all but spit.
“Tyler, you could have told me.”
My cousin and her new husband start to stroll through the congregation, smiling, bridesmaids in tow. “Why would I do that? She’s not important.”
“It would have been nice to get a heads-up.”
Annabella reaches our row and looks across to me. Call me an arsehole, I don’t care. I reach for Lainey and pull her into my side, making a point. “She’s history.”
“The look on her face says otherwise,” Lainey whispers, virtually hiding her face in my chest, probably to avoid Annabella’s fire stare.
“She left me, remember?”
“And it looks like she might regret it now.”
“Good.”
“But if she wants you back, she’s out of luck,” Lainey declares, her hand creeping under my suit jacket and resting on my arse. “I’ll fight her to the death.” She looks up at me, and I grin. “I’m being serious,” she goes on, face straight. “I’m quite handy on the punch bag, and I did karate for a year when I was thirteen.”
“Oh, so you’re going to karate kick her if she comes sniffing around?”
“I don’t know if this dress will let me get my leg high enough.” She wriggles a little, and I chuckle.
“Save your karate kicks for when I get you home.” I lightly spank her bum, smiling like crazy. “You won’t have a restrictive dress on by then.”
“Can I at least karate chop her?” She slashes her arm through the air. “Hi-yah.”
I fall apart, laughing like I’ve never laughed before. “You’re a case.”
“What’s going on?” Mum muscles in on our banter, frowning at Lainey’s poised hand in the air.
“Lainey was just demonstrating what she’s going to do to Annabella if she comes close,” I explain.
“Tyler,” Lainey cries, horrified that I’ve been so open with my mother.
“It’s fine.” I roll my eyes and start to follow the crowds, pulling her along. “Mum wants to do a lot worse, trust me.”
“I wouldn’t spit on her if she was on fire,” Mum says from behind. “The nasty piece of work.”
I don’t wince at Mum’s spite, but Lainey does, looking at me with wide, worried eyes. “Remind me not to piss off your mother,” she says, following my lead and taking a drink from a tray.
“You’re protective of your boy, aren’t you, Mum?” I flip my mother a wink.
“You’re telling me,” Ted chimes in, placing a drink in Mum’s hand. “Tyler is her golden boy.”
“So are you,” I mutter. “Literally.”
Lainey laughs, before quickly apologizing for it, Ted shakes his head, and Mum slaps my shoulder. “Enough, Tyler. Play nice. Come on, Ted.” She orders him away, scowling at me, and I chuckle to myself as Lainey looks at me in dismay.
“What?”
“He seems nice.”
I scoff. “Nice and bronzed? Come on, let’s find our seats.”
“Hey, do you think your cousin put us on the same table as your ex-wife? That could be awkward.”
“You’re not funny, Lainey,” I grumble, but my mind strips Lainey, lays her on the table in front of Annabella, and fucks her stupid. The thought makes me smile. “Besides, she’s a bridesmaid. She’ll be on the top table.”
We reach the table plan at the entrance of the marquee and scan the lists of names. “Oh, table four.” Lainey points, and I see my name. But I don’t see Lainey’s and it takes me just one horrifying second to realize why. Oh shit. “You’re sitting next to Jenna.” She looks up at me, interest on her face. “Who’s Jenna?”
My lips press tightly together, as if helping me from spilling the confession that is likely to earn me a slap. I shrug my answer.
“You invited Jenna before me, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly,” I squeak, my shoulders dropping. “I told Gina I was bringing Jenna.”
“Great,” Lainey quips, turning toward the entrance of the marquee. “But I don’t suppose you could tell Gina you were bringing me. So let’s go find Tyler’s and Jenna’s seats.”
I’m surprised by how cool she is with my oversight. Women usually go off the deep end with shit like that. God damn Gina for being so prompt. I should never have blurted Jenna’s name as my plus-one. “So where’s table four?”
“Right there,” Lainey says, sounding a bit worried, and I follow her pointed finger.
