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“Then why were you on his Facebook page?”
I fall silent; he’s right. I have no comeback.
Ronan glowers at me over the rim of his cup. When he speaks again, his tone is clipped and disapproving. “Babe, I love you to death, but you’re seriously deluded if you think your relationship with Andrew was healthy. Your ability to rewrite history astounds me, but if you’ve forgotten what he put you through,allow me to refresh your memory. That bastard made you pay for everything. He never had a job the whole entire time you two were together.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, he was an actor.”
“Psst! A jobbing actor is code-speak for ‘I’m too lazy to work, so I’ll sit on my backside and sponge off my girlfriend.’”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Yes, it was. Remember how many credit cards you burned out? Remember the clothes and the holidays he got you to pay for? And don’t let me get started on the car. For Christ’s sake, Carly, you bought him a car!A bloody car!”
“It was only a second-hand Ford,” I squeak.
“I don’t care. No one on minimum wage should be buying their boyfriend a car. It’s not right.”
I shake my head. “But Andrew wanted us to move in together. He was ready to commit to me, but as always, I sabotaged it. It was my fault our relationship ended. He wanted to marry me, but I just wasn’t ready.”
“Babe, wake up and smell the coffee. Andrew only wanted to move in with you ‘cos he was being evicted from his grotty bedsit in Hammersmith. It wasn’t for love of you, I can promise you that. The guy’s a total loser.” Ronan drains his cup then pulls out his smartphone. “Right, what’s his Facebook profile?”
“Why?”
“Duh! Why do you think? I want to see those stupid wedding photos.”
Reluctantly, I tell him the profile name, and for the next few minutes, I watch his face change from confused to hysterical. “Some wedding. The groom’s dressed in cast-offs from a Vanilla Ice video and the bride’s a complete heifer.”
“Don’t be mean. She’s pregnant.”
“Whatever. The wedding looks tacky. And I bet the bride paid for everything. No way in Hell did Andrew put his hand in his pocket. I reckon you had a lucky escape.”
I smile despite myself; Ronan always knows how to make me feel better.
He stumps out his cigarette and lights another. “Want one?” He offers me the packet.
For a moment, I’m strongly tempted. The way Ronan’s lips wrap around the cigarette is giving me butterflies but, just in time, I hear Nick’s voice like a distant melody.
“No, thanks, I’ve quit,” I say quietly.
“Good for you.” Ronan leans back in his chair and exhales a long plume of smoke through his nostrils. “On serious note, babe, you really need to stop obsessing about Andrew. You’re too smart and beautiful to waste your life on that tosser. Trust me; Mr Right’s waiting out there somewhere. You just haven’t found him yet.”
Defensively, I change the subject. “Oh, by the way. I made you something.”
“A present? For moi?”
Rummaging through my bag, I pull out a small object wrapped in red tissue paper. Excitedly, Ronan tears it open to reveal a black-and-orange beanie.
“Aw, thanks, babe; I love it.” Lowering his voice, he whispers conspiratorially, “Is anyone looking?”
I glance around quickly. “No. The coast’s clear.”
Swiftly, Ronan swaps his hat for my fluffy creation. “How does it look?”
“Fabulous!”
