“Everything okay?” I asked, faux concern in my voice. “Did you need us to chip in for the champagne?”
“We’ve got it,” he said, sounding as smarmy as he looked. “No, I just wanted to ask you to please actually come to the wedding.”
I couldn’t help but break character yet again. After all, I didn’t really care what Chris thought of me, which is why I’d been fine to come tonight to begin with. The emotions, the act; it had all been for Niamh’s benefit, not his.
“And why the hell would I do that? Is that really why you came all the way here?”
“It would mean a lot to Niamh.”
“And it would have meant a lot to me for her to not fuck my boyfriend, and yet…”
“Please,” he said, catching my eye, and maybe for the first time ever, including when we’d dated, I saw nothing but earnestness in his expression. It was slightly unnerving.
I squinted sceptically. “You really love her, don’t you?”
“I do,” he said without hesitation. “Not that that makes a difference to you. But I couldn’t let you leave thinking it was a throwaway comment, her wanting you there. She’s been talking about it for weeks, but she didn’t think you’d say yes.”
I looked at him for a long moment, not sure how to respond. I didn’t want to see them get married, and I didn’t actually give a shit about making Niamh feel better when she couldn’t even acknowledge how fucked up her behaviour had been.
But it made me miss the life I’d had. I missed Sophie and Maya, even if they didn’t actually miss me. It had been a hell of a long time since I’d been invited to something and felt like my presence was actually, genuinely wanted.
“I’ll think about it,” I said finally. “You know where to send our invitation.”
Chris snorted. “Seriously?”
I groaned. “Fuck’s sake, Chris. What now?”
He gestured to Phil, who was standing behind me, and I only just noticed that his hands were placed lightly on my hips. Had I really not noticed that happen?
“What?” I asked defensively. “It’s not like you and Niamh weren’t all over each other in there. Don’t tell me you’ve become a prude in the last ten months.”
Chris scoffed. “You really expect me to believe you’re with thistownie? No way. He’s not coming with you. Plus ones are for actual partners.”
I felt Phil’s grip tighten on me, and I placed my hands over his in response. That condescension wouldn’t fly, especially not about Phil.
“Come on, Christopher,” I said, evening my voice and levelling my gaze at him. “You can’t be bad in bedandthis much of a twat. You have to choose.”
His sneer was instantaneous. “Oh, I chose alright.”
The double meaning stabbed sharply into me. But instead of reacting with the hurt expression I was sure he was after, I kept my face as calm and neutral as I could.
“If you want me there for Niamh’s sake,” I said, “you’ll send an invite for both of us. Now fuck off back to your fiancée, Chris. You two deserve each other.” Then I imagined crossing my fingers that Phil wouldn’t kill me for what I was about to do.
I pressed up onto my toes, spun around in Phil’s grasp, and brought my hand to his face. We only had a fraction of a second to do this if we wanted it to look natural– hell, even then it would look performative at best– but thankfully, Phil didn’t hesitate.
He leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine, and the rest of the world disappeared.
Chapter6
Phil
Five years ago, I’d nearly kissed Amy Evans.
She’d come home for the summer holidays before her last year of uni, and her mum Patricia had invited Ethel and me over for a barbecue. Jack was still off globetrotting with his evil soon-to-be-ex girlfriend, and whilst Chloe had done a good job of keeping tabs on Amy whilst he’d been away, it had been more than a year since I’d seen her when she walked through her parents’ back door into the garden.
Years later, I could still remember exactly what she was wearing– a sage green linen playsuit that perfectly matched her eyes, with white Converse trainers– and the way her blonde hair bunched together, held in a low, loose ponytail with a white satin ribbon. Long gone was the kid who had followed us around for years. It was like it was the first time I’d ever seen her, and I nearly dropped the pavlova I’d made. I’d had to hit the booze immediately to avoid saying something out of pocket.
Unlike when we were growing up, instead of her following Chloe and me around, we gravitated to her. Uni had made her a hell of a lot more confident. She was funny and self-assured and whip smart, and maybe she’d always been that way and we’d just failed to realise it, but we certainly realised it then.
