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I glance around the restaurant, down at my plate, out the window. Finally back at Emma. “But…it’s only two weeks away. Everyone’s been looking forward to it. Our families…”
“Devon, do you really think the best reason to get married is because our families will be disappointed if we don’t?”
I let out a heavy sigh, slumping back in my chair. “You’re really doing this, aren’t you?”
She offers a regretful smile. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“And there’s no changing your mind?”
She shakes her head.
“Okay then. I guess we’d better figure out how to tell everyone.”
“Your parents will be at Mum and Dad’s for dinner tomorrow night,” she informs me. “They wanted to make up for having to miss my birthday.”
“Oh, right.” A stab of guilt hits me as I recall that Mum texted me a week ago wanting to know some suggestions for Emma’s birthday gift. Shit, no wonder I’ve just been dumped; I wouldn’t want to marry me right now either. “Well, that should be about as fun as a prostate exam.”
Emma lets out a loud snort, almost choking on her wine. “Wes is going to be thrilled,” she says wryly.
The corner of my mouth quirks up. “Well, at least there’s one silver lining.”
We manage to make it through the rest of our lunch, swapping pieces of awkward chitchat and studiously avoiding the elephant in the room. Once we’re done, I head straight for my best mate’s Shepherd’s Bush townhouse.
“I need alcohol,” I announce, pushing past a baffled Ryan the second he opens the door.
“O-kay.Well, there’s beer in the fridge. Or there’s a couple of bottles of wine on the rack, but it might be a bit early for that.”
“Anything stronger?”
Ryan’s brows shoot up. “Scotch?”
“Perfect.
Ryan shrugs and leads the way into the kitchen. “Emma okay with you being over here boozing it up?”
“Emma just dumped my arse.”
Pausing in his task of rummaging through the cabinet above the fridge, Ryan turns around and stares at me, mouth hanging open.“Shiiiit.”
“The alcohol.”
He just rolls his eyes and turns back to the cabinet, retrieving a half-full bottle of Jameson.
“This isn’t scotch,” I point out, accepting the bottle.
“What, do you think I’m wasting Macallan on you? Just drink the bloody whiskey.”
I pour a generous amount into a glass and take it over to the living room couch, sinking down onto it with an exhausted sigh. “She said we’re not getting married for the right reasons. And that we don’t even love each other.”
I’m expecting Ryan to jump in straight away with some commiserating comments, the way a best friend is supposed to, but all I hear is dead air. When I glance up, it’s to see him staring at me with a hesitant expression. “What?”
He winces at my tone, which came out much harsher than I intended. “Okay, don’t jump down my throat for this, but…maybe Emma has a point?”
“What?”
Ryan holds a hand up to stall my protest. “Look, I’m obviously not an expert on your and Emma’s relationship,” he allows, “but I do know what it’s like to love someone. To really, truly love another person with your whole heart.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Yeah, okay, I get it. You and Holly are the world’s most perfect couple…”
