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“Good.” He nods. “Yeah, good. Better.”
This makes me happy. He deserves to be good. “I’m glad.”
“He loves Hawaii.”
“He would.” I smile as I think of him. “All those mountains to climb, the surf—”
“—The girls.” Gus gives me a pointed look. I think he’s trying to make a point, to make sure I know that Tom is fine without me.
I never thought he wouldn’t be. Tom is Tom England. The most wonderful, whole, beautiful man to ever grace the planet. He never needed me and I was never under the impression that he was lucky to have me; I always knew it was the other way around. What happened after he left proves that I was right. My eyes pinch at Gus because I think it’s rude he’s hitting me with a softball at my own father’s stupid wedding.
“You haven’t visited me in a while,” I tell him and he tilts his head and cocks his eyebrow. “Hawaii calling?” I guess.
Gus breathes out through his nose. “He is my best friend…”
“And what am I?” I frown, offended. “Chopped liver?”
“Nah—” He shrugs coolly. “Just the girl who broke his heart.” He flicks his eyebrows up. “And fucked his heterosexual best mate.”
Ouch.
I deserve it, I guess.
I did and it’s true.
Clara helped (with the breaking, not the fucking), but it was a lot of me in the end, I think. Me and BJ. Me and Rush.
“I should get back to my date,” he tells me, nodding his head over towards someone I recognise who gives me a small, overwhelmed wave.
“Jack Giles?” I blink. He’s so gorgeous — chocolatey eyes that are always smouldering like he’s wearing eyeliner even if he isn’t, sexy pushed back brown hair and a sensational jawline — he makes me wish I were a gay man. Or he were a straight one. “I didn’t know…” I shake my head. “When?”
“It’s recent.” He nods, blushing a little. “Let’s get a drink before you fly back out. I’ll catch you up—”
He kisses my cheek.
After that, the speeches are spoken and there’s a father-daughter dance that I dodge by hurling my sister into my father’s arms and making Henry dance with me instead. I stick close to my Safe Three because everyone in the world wants to talk to me about New York and Rush and why I disappeared in the dead of night the way I did.
Like they don’t all already know. Everyone knows.
It was everywhere. The whole of the Rosebery heard it. There’s videos of it on the internet. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have everyone see your maybe worst moment, where your heart broke on your face in front of the entire world for all to see, only to have them then use it for small talk at parties when the conversation lulls?
I make my way to the bar.
“Can I have a martini, please?” I ask the bartender. “Vodka.”
And then I feel a body saddle up next to me.
Feel it.
Even though he’s not touching me at all, I feel it in my bones. A curious, deep ache and a mild episode of SVT.
He leans against the bar.
“How’s the weather, Parks?” he asks and I don’t turn to face him.
I can’t. My heart’s going too fast, it’s run up into my throat.
I try my best to steady my breathing.
