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I close my eyes against his shoulder, and I know this conversation is far from over. “Me neither.”
Julian
I’m sitting at the bar in a pub with Sebastian and Spencer. We’re twenty-two years old, and it’s the morning of my wedding. Dressed in our suits, we’re ready for the church, but the mood is sombre. They’re trying to comfort me the best they can.
I’m devastated about what I’m about to do—for the way I fucked up everything.
If I were going to prison for life, I would be happier than I am right now.
I stare at a small droplet of beer that has spilt next to a coaster, and I release a shaky breath.
“Did you organise a honeymoon?” Spencer asks softly.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Scotland.”
“How long are you going for?”
“A week.” I sip my beer.
We all stay silent and stare straight ahead.
“Any luck, she’ll fuc
k a Scotsman and ask you for a divorce,” Seb offers.
I nod without emotion, and I close my eyes in regret. Another wave of nausea rolls through me. I’ve been throwing up all morning.
“Don’t do this, Masters,” Spencer begs. “This is the worse fucking decision you’ll ever make.” Seb and he exchange looks. “She trapped you, man. She’s after money. Just give it to her. Give her fucking all of it.”
My eyes rise to meet his. We’ve had this conversation a million times. Even my parents have begged me not to go through with it.
“I’m not letting another man bring up my child,” I tell them sadly.
“So, you’re sacrificing your whole fucking life for a baby that you don’t even know?” Spence snaps in disgust.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I can stand next to you and watch you do this,” Seb says, his voice monotone.
I get a lump in my throat. “That’s okay. You guys don’t have to come if you don’t want.”.
The driver arrives at the front door of the pub. “We need to get going for the church or we’ll be late,” he says.
I nod, watching as he disappears out the door.
My heart begins to hammer in my chest.
“Let’s just fuck off,” Spencer splutters, his panic rising. “We can go to the states. Yeah. We’ll live there and you can send her money.” He shakes his head. “Just don’t fucking do this, Masters.”
I drag myself off the stool
Beep, beep.
I’m snapped back to the present by the car honking its horn behind me. I look up to see the traffic lights have now turned red, meaning I’ve completely missed them.
I’m on my way to work. The horror of my younger life has been playing heavily on my mind this week. It’s as if I’m back there, dealing with it all over again.
The lights change, and I click into first gear to floor it.
