“Everything’s fine,” he says. The corners of his mouth stretch into a tight smile.
“It’s not,” I say. “You weren’t like this a few minutes ago. And you definitely weren’t like this last night.”
He inhales sharply, then pivots to face me. “With everything going on, maybe it’s better that we don’t talk about that. Let’s just focus on today, and the wedding, and—”
“And what? Forget that it ever happened?”
“Yes.”
His swift delivery pierces me. “Is that what you want?”
“It…” He hesitates, something flickering in his eyes. “Yes,” he says, his voice a little gentler. “It is.”
I take a step back. “Okay,” I say. “I won’t bring it up again.”
We walk in silence to a table at the front as I try to process what’s happened. I can’t figure out why this man’s done a complete 180 on me. He seemed eager to pick things back up before, but now he wants to keep his distance?
Was anything he said to me true? Or are these the standard games he plays, the words he uses to reel a one-night stand in, then let them go?
He pulls a chair out for me, and I take it without comment. A server comes around, asking if we’d like white or red.
“Either,” I say, tearing off a chunk of the roll on my side plate. My knife struggles through a cold slab of butter, and I give up on spreading it. I put a chunk of it on the roll instead, fold it over, and pop it into my mouth.
There are only a few others seated at the table so far, a few of Maggie’s relatives. I exchange light conversation with the cousin I met earlier as I eye the empty seat beside me.
As I feared, my father fills that empty seat a few moments later. Maggie takes the seat to his right, the one next to Jacob.
I can feel his gaze on me, but I pointedly ignore him, lifting my glass and taking a healthy swallow.
Red, then. I’m not sure what kind.
Someone asks what my father and Maggie have planned for their honeymoon, and I half listen, finishing off my roll. I reach formy glass, intending to take another sip, but am surprised to find it empty.
I’m not a big drinker usually, but my body’s settled into a warm glow, one that’s distracting me from everything going on, and I don’t feel like leaving it.
“You travel a lot, right, Neelu?” Maggie says. “Maybe you have some advice for us?”
“Advice for…”
“Sky,” Maggie says.
Sky?
My confusion must show, because Maggie continues. “Yes, Skye. Where your father and I are going for our honeymoon?”
I blink. “You’ve never been?” The Isle of Skye can’t be more than a five-hour drive from here.
She shakes her head. “Neither of us have.”
“It’s not uncommon,” Jacob chimes in. “Most of the people who visit are tourists from outside Scotland. I’ve never been either.”
“Well, of course you haven’t,” I say, pointing my knife at him. “You never leave Aberdeen.”
His mouth parts.
Shit.I’m not supposed to know that.
Maggie’s eyes bounce between the two of us, and I speak before she can ask any questions. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any advice. I’ve never been either.”
