“Well, we’ve got exciting news to share,” Niamh said, “though I’m sure you’ve seen it on socials already.”
I pursed my lips and shook my head. “I haven’t really looked,” I said, refusing to acknowledge that I had them both blocked.
“Well…” she said dramatically, then held out her left hand as if she hadn’t been talking with it since we’d arrived.
I was so enormously proud of both Phil’s and my performances of Unimpressed Man and Unimpressed Woman. I chanced a quick look at him and saw that, like me, he’d creased his brow in confusion, as if the Mount Everest on her finger was the most pedestrian thing we’d seen.
“Oh,” I said, sounding underwhelmed, “is that news? We’d already seen the ring– you didn’t exactly try to hide it– so I just assumed your news was something else.”
Niamh’s face fell in disappointment. “Oh, could you see it from outside?”
“I think they can see that thing from space,” Phil said, somehow managing not to make it sound like a compliment. “But congrats.”
“Thank you,” Niamh said, visibly shaking off the awkwardness of her failed announcement. “Anyway, we’d love for you both to be there.”
All my impeccable control went to shit as I tipped my head back and laughed. A full-on belly laugh that would have put the jolliest of Santas to shame. It was a good few seconds before I looked up to see that all three of them, Phil included, were looking at me as if I’d broken out in the Macarena.
“Wait, seriously?” I asked, leaning forward to prop my arms up on the table.
“Well yes,” Niamh said, taking my hands in hers, and it was everything I could do to not recoil. “You were so instrumental in us getting together.”
It was such an outlandish thing to say that I was almost certain she was having me on. Instrumental? If that were true, I should have been their fucking maid of honour. Was it possible that she genuinely didn’t know how fucked up her actions had been?
“We’d be honoured,” Phil said, reaching around my waist to pull me back away from Niamh and into his side, and I bit my tongue to keep from laughing again. I knew Phil wouldn’t be caught dead at anyone’s wedding, much less theirs. “When’s the big day?”
“The seventh of September at Chris’s family’s place.”
I resisted an eye roll; Chris’s family lived in a listed manor not far from Manchester, with enough land to get lost in. His family were unbearably posh, with their waxed Barbour jackets and pedigree spaniels, and their membership at a wellness club dear enough to not list their prices online. I’d only been to the family estate once, and it had been the most fish-out-of-water experience of my life, but I had to admit it would make a beautiful wedding venue.
Just as Niamh launched into an obviously oft-repeated monologue about their wedding plans, I felt a buzz on my left hip. It was Phil’s phone in his pocket. I looked up at him to see a panicked look on his face as he answered.
“Everything okay?” he asked, then paused as a muffled voice on the other end of the line said something.
“I’ll be there soon,” he said, ending the call and pushing away from the table quickly enough that his chair almost tipped backwards.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, standing with him, my hand on his arm in an uncharacteristically intimate way, though the way we had just been pressed together made it feel inconsequential. “It’s not Ethel, is it?”
“Afraid so. Anil can’t find her new beta blockers, and she needs them before bed.” He looked down at Niamh, who had her brow knitted together in concern, and Chris, who looked frankly relieved that the evening had come to a premature end. “Sorry, folks. Congrats and all, but we’ve got to call it.” He looked back at me again. “You good to walk?”
“We can drive you!” Niamh offered, but Phil waved her off.
“It’s okay, it’ll take as long to direct you there as it’ll take us to walk. But thank you, and lovely to meet you.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the front door, and I spared a casual wave back at Niamh as we left.
“See you at the wedding!” she called, and I just pressed my mouth into a thin smile in response.
“God they suck, saying you were instrumental in their twisted little love story,” Phil said as soon as we’d rounded the corner outside the bar. He slowed right down, mouth wide as he laughed.
“Yeah, they’re the worst,” I said, tugging at his arm. “But come on, don’t we need to hurry?”
“Oh, no,” he said, shrugging me off, and I frowned; apparently the physicality of our little ruse was over. “That wasn’t Anil. That was Jack.”
I stopped in the middle of the pavement and scowled at him. “Jack? As in, mybrotherJack?”
Phil laughed. “Yeah, he rings me at half seven every Saturday and pretends to be Anil in case I need an out. I haven’t used it in a while, but it came in pretty clutch, didn’t it?”
I laughed– I’d never felt more grateful to my brother. But before I could ask more questions, I saw Chris appear over Phil’s shoulder, looking around as he left the bar. I grabbed Phil and hissed for him to keep moving, grasping his hand as he tried to wrench it away.
“Amy!” Chris called, jogging after us. I pretended to see him for the first time, turning around as if in surprise.
