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I catch the gentle reproach in Fran’s expression.
“What?” I sigh.
“You know what,” she replies.
“Look, he had no right to stalk us to our front door like that.”
“Maybe he really was just checking to see that we made it home okay.”
“Oh, whatever would we have done without him?” I scoff. “Lord knows how I’ve survived twenty-three years on this planet without his bodyguard services.”
Frannie loops her arm into mine as we stroll towards the front door of the rental. “Don’t you think you were a bit harsh on him?”
“Hey, whose side are you on?”
Rami unlocks the door and we head inside.
“I’m just saying, do you think you would have reacted like that if all that stuff hadn’t happened with Micah?”
Her words only reinforce what I already know—that that outburst out there had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the trauma I still feel over my ex, a man I’m still not free of, even if I hide the fact from my friends so as not to turn their vacation into some hellscape of various shades of anxiety.
A sigh billows from my lips as I plonk my purse onto the bench by the door as Rami locks us in for the night.
I head to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, wondering what he makes of me being so stupidly jumpy, wondering whether I should tell him that half the reason I constantly chew him up and spit him out is because every time I feel a man watching me, my stomach turns in trepidation.
I guess it doesn’t matter that much anyway. The cantankerous glare of his mixed with that utterly indecent specimen of a male body sporting illegal-levels of muscle means that he’s wholly incompatible with my vow of chastity, so I guess the sensible thing would be to give him as wide a berth as possible.
Ifsensiblewere in my repertoire, of course.
“You’re right,” I grumble. “As always.”
“Look, it’s not your fault, babe. I have my own trauma responses. It’s just something to keep in mind as you chase away every single hot man that comes near you with a stick.”
I manage a half-smile, bringing the water to my lips in the hopes that it sobers me up at warp speed.
“I’ll try,” I reply. “Anyway, enough men talk. We’re here to ‘reconnect to our sacred feminine energy’, remember?” I say, half-mocking our yoga teacher’s painfully earnest voice.
“Yeah, pack it in, you two, before I clunk your heads together,” adds Rami.
“Right,” I decide. “From this moment onwards, no more man talk.”
Rami throws me an unconvinced smirk, shaking her head as she heads upstairs. “Goodnight, bitches.”
15
Greyson
Tuesday
“So once everyone is seated and the groom is in position at the front,” says Anne, the extremely forthright wedding planner Tom and Carolyn have gone for, “the music will start and the bridal procession will begin. Each bridesmaid will walk down the aisle with one groomsman, so four couples in total.”
I glance down at Carolyn’s friend, Sarah, aware that she’s been throwing glances in my direction since we got to the reception hall at the hotel this morning.
Unfortunately for both of us, my mind is utterly and completely consumed by someone else…
“I can’t match them up until all four bridesmaids are here,” snarls Anne, exhaling heavily in exasperation as Gideon, Kennedy and I exchange glances. “Where is she?”
“Sorry. She said two minutes,” responds Carolyn who seems a lot more composed than the wedding planner she hired. “Punctuality is not her strong suit.”
