‘OK,’ Rosie agreed. ‘That does sound sensible.’
‘Good. You dress this salad and I’ll go and find Yaz,’ Rhianne said firmly, handing Rosie a bottle of home-made vinaigrette. ‘And Rosie? Screw this woman and the wellness wagon she rode in on. I hope she chokes on her chia seed pudding.’
As Rosie helped Rhianne put the finishing touches totwenty-five mini puddings, she couldn’t help feeling that she’d hit a new low. Hiding from her ex-boyfriend in the kitchen of the venue where his engagement party was taking place felt so pathetic it beggared belief. It was like a scene from a sitcom, except that it wasn’t remotely funny.
When she examined her feelings closely, however, she discovered she was more angry and embarrassed than hurt. She searched for the part of herself that wished she had a ring on her finger – a promise of forever from the man she’d once thought she’d grow old with. To her satisfaction, she couldn’t find it. This situation was unpleasant, but not devastating. As long as she kept her head down, she’d survive it.
Yaz entered the kitchen and collected two large trays of desserts, throwing Rosie a supportive look. Both she and Marcus had been apprised of Rosie’s sudden need to keep a low profile. Once the rest of the plates had been taken out and distributed, Rosie let out a long sigh.
Having discharged her responsibilities, she decided now was a good time to visit the bathroom. The crowd was concentrating on eating, and she could probably sneak from the kitchen to the toilets without attracting attention.
After using the loo, she washed and dried her hands, only to realise that the greater challenge would be getting back to the kitchen unseen, as people finished their puddings and began to refocus on their surroundings. She looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, fluffed her hair and applied a fresh coat of her new, favourite red lipstick. If she was going to be seen, she wanted to be seen with her new do on point and her war paint in place.
Seconds later, she was glad she’d thought of this. James was lurking just beyond the bathroom door – apparently waiting for her to emerge.
For a moment he simply stared, taking in her outfit (a fun but functional pair of dungarees), her haircut and her makeup. ‘You look … different,’ he said.
Rosie shrugged. ‘So do you.’And not in a good way, she thought. He had those awful trainers on again, and a skintight t-shirt designed to show off his burgeoning biceps – though Rosie couldn’t help thinking it mostly served to highlight the narrowness of his shoulders.
‘I … I’m—’ he fumbled, struggling for coherent speech. ‘I’m sorry about this.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ Rosie said blandly. She found she wasn’t furious with him. Instead, she felt frustrated with herself: dismayed that she’d wasted so many years and so much affection on someone who was so wrong for her.
‘The engagement – this whole thing – it’s been a whirlwind,’ James said. ‘I’m not even sure how it happened, honestly.’
Rosie rolled her eyes but said nothing.
Seeming to take this as an invitation to continue unburdening himself, James went on: ‘She’s … Dylan’s a bit of a force. Demanding, you know? And I’m sort of along for the ride.’
Rosie frowned at him, stunned into speechlessness. Was he really implying that his engagement to this woman was something he was merely going along with? A corner he’d been backed into?
‘Anyway. I really am sorry about this whole situation,’ James said into the silence. ‘I know it must be horrible for you. Upsetting.’
Rosie’s pride flared at this. ‘It’s awkward, James,’ she said, ‘obviously. But as you can probably see, I’m not sobbing into my apron about it.’
‘Honestly, Dylan is like … ahurricane,’ James babbled. ‘I’ve been swept away. It’s all happened so fast.’
Rosie felt her patience threatening to snap, and knew she needed to shut this down. She had no desire to erupt at him in her workplace.
‘James, I really don’t care,’ she told him. ‘All I can say is good luck to you – based on what I’ve seen so far, I think you’re going to need it.’
She pushed past him, but before she made it back to the relative safety of the kitchen, Dylan’s voice rang out – just high enough that every single person in the room could hear.
‘Oh yes, that’s his ex. The waitress over there with the thick thighs.Socringethat she’s working here, but what can you do? He’s just making sure she’s not going to drown herself in chocolate milk now our news is out.’
There was a low ripple of laughter and some mild shock from the crowd. Tears of rage burned in Rosie’s eyes.
Without looking, she knew that everyone in the room was staring at her – waiting for her to react. She needed to remove herself from view before humiliation overwhelmed her, but her feet wouldn’t move. Amid the sound of murmuring and whispered questions Dylan spoke again, unnecessarily loudly: ‘Oh yes, I know – he’s traded up.Wayup. Of course, he’ll have to meetmystandards now, ha ha …’
Moisture brimmed behind Rosie’s closed eyelids, and she knew she was going to cry.Fuck it all. She didn’t want this woman to know that her words had hurt her. Didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of mistakenly thinking she’d won some kind of game – not when the prize was James, a man Rosie increasingly thought of as a weapons-grade wanker.
A large, warm hand closed around hers. Another settled on her shoulder.
Rosie looked up and saw Aled – his face in soft focus, shimmering beyond the gloss of tears in her eyes.
He bent and dropped a kiss to her right cheek, which flushed immediately. ‘Ready to go home?’
Rosie nodded, leaning into him for a second – needing him to feel the depth of her relief and gratitude. He rubbed soothing circles on her shoulder, smoothed his thumb over the skin at the nape of her neck. She breathed him in hungrily, fortified by the heat and solidity of his body.
