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We all sit together at the table and the chatter is all about me and Ant, and our relationship, and our plans for the future. Everyone is ecstatic, seeing him as every bit the miracle man he is. I’m swept up along with it, enjoying my meal and raising glasses of champagne.
“Am I going to be a page boy with Harry?” Tommy asks, and I nod.
“You sure will be, kiddo. If you want to be, that is.”
He grins. “Yep. I was good at Uncle Jack’s wedding, wasn’t I, Mum?”
She’d usually shoot me a look of ouch at the mention of Jack’s name, but she doesn’t this time, knowing Jack is a figure of my past now.
“Yeah, Tom, you were great. You’ll be brill at Cass’s wedding as well.”
The meal goes by so quickly. Ant gets the bill, despite everyone’s protests, and everyone leans back in their chairs, stuffed full of dessert. I’m kind of glad I don’t eat them anymore. I wouldn’t like the bloat of my stomach in such a beautiful gown.
“Shall we go back to our place?” Mum asks when we get outside, but Michelle takes hold of my arm, tipsy on champagne.
“Sounds brill, but how about we stop at the Plough on the way?”
I haven’t been in our local for a long, long time, but it sounds great. Everyone else agrees, and Ant smiles his approval, so off we go.
The old beams of the pub greet us, and memories come flooding back. So many nights in here with Michelle, and Jack, and our friends.
We take the big table by the entrance and champagne goes down well along with pints of local ale. The boys sit together and drink lemonade and talk about page boy suits, and we’re all having an amazing time together
Until the door opens, and Jack steps inside, his new wife following close behind.
Oh, fuck. FUCK. Jeez, my heart thumps. But it’s ok… it’s ok.
For so long I’d have expected nothing but utter misery and heartache to see Jack standing there, freshly married with Susie on his arm, but I’m not feeling misery at all, just a massive wham of awkward.
He gets an obvious flash of it himself, taking a step back as he notices the crowd of us at the table.
“Hey,” he says. “Wasn’t expecting to see you guys in here.”
Seems Michelle hasn’t got around to telling him my news yet. She looks so awkward she’s burning up.
It’s Sarah who pipes up first, with that protective sister tone to her voice.
“Cass is engaged. We’re celebrating.”
“Wow,” he says. “Congratulations.”
“This is Ant,” Sarah points out with a proud smile, and gestures to my fiancé.
“Hi, Ant,” Jack says. “And great to see you, Cass. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I reply, and manage a genuine smile at both him and Susie. “Congratulations to you, too.”
Ant doesn’t speak. He gives Jack and Susie a nod, and the hint of a smile, but his eyes are like steel as he stares over at them. Jack must see it, because he backs away with a catch you later and heads to the bar with Susie.
It takes a few minutes until the conversation at the table is back in the flow, but it gets there. Everyone is talking happily when Ant leans in close to me. His voice is a low whisper.
“That’s him, then? That’s the cheating prick who fucked you over?”
I don’t know what to say to that, since I don’t think Jack was a cheating prick who fucked me over, so I resort to a generic, “That’s Jack, and his wife, Susie.”
He doesn’t let up, though.
“Jack the cheating prick?”
“It’s Jack, yes.”
His hand squeezes my knee under the table, but it’s harsh, not affectionate.
His eyes burn as he looks at me, like a silent demand for me to share his sentiment, but I don’t. I’m not calling Jack a cheating prick in our village local, with his sister sitting opposite us.
I turn my attention to the boys, asking if they are enjoying their lemonades and they both nod with a yes, thanks, and then I engage with the conversations going on around us.
Ant’s hand leaves my knee and he joins back in himself, showing himself as the Mr Perfect everyone knows him to be.
Except me.
The thought comes out of nowhere. Suddenly, coldly out of nowhere, and it shocks me so much I get a weird flash of WTF inside me, because just… what?
I get up and head to the bathroom, and Michelle uses the chance to get up and follow. It’s like old days as we stand at the sinks and check our makeup in the mirrors.
“You’ve barely spoken to me since you hooked up with him,” she comments, but there’s no malice in it. “I can see why, now. You must’ve been busy. He’s just, wow. Yeah, wow. Congratulations.”
There is so much I want to say to her. I’d love nothing more right now than to pull her into one of the cubicles and have one of the heart to hearts we had as teenagers, telling her the full story of Ant behind the scenes. About the dirty nights, and the truth of my resignation, and the true Ant beneath the surface, with his mum trying to get hold of him, and how she treated him like a piece of shit when he was young.
