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But Sally is intrigued, and she continues, “Is Fitz the guy she was supposed to marry, the one where she canceled the wedding at the last minute?” When I nod, she presses her fingers to her lips, her eyes wide. “She told me about that. He was in an accident, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah. He was in the Army,” I explain, “working at Scott Base. A plane crash-landed—he wasn’t on it, but it skidded across the landing strip into the yard where he was working. He fractured his pelvis and damaged several vertebrae, and had to learn to walk again.”
“Jesus.” Ken glances out to where Marc’s pacing up and down, talking into his phone. “I’d never have guessed.”
“What’s she like?” I ask them, curious about the woman he was going to marry.
“A bit high-maintenance,” Ashton announces. “If I’m honest.”
“We get on okay,” Sally says. “Lee is friends with her husband, Terry.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say guiltily. “I didn’t mean to be rude about your friend.”
Lee waves a hand. “Sal knows how I feel about Mel. I’ve always thought she was manipulative. When I heard she’d called off a previous wedding, I was worried she’d do the same with Terry. I’m glad she didn’t, although sometimes I think he’d have been better off if she had. He’s a bit under the thumb.”
“She is a control freak,” Sally admits.
“Why did they break up?” Ashton asks her.
“She opened up about her ex one night, when a group of us had had a few drinks. She said she couldn’t deal with the accident. She said she felt guilty about breaking up with him, but that the accident completely changed his personality, and he wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with.”
“That’s bullshit,” I say, as mildly as I can, even though anger stirs inside me. “When you love someone you stand by them, in sickness and in health. She left him when he needed her most. He’s still very upset about it.”
“Understandably,” Ashton says.
I glance out at Marc, who’s studying his shoes, still on the phone. Who’s he talking to? Not Mel, surely. No, it couldn’t be. It’s probably Noah or Leon, or maybe Izzy. Would she ring him on her honeymoon? I would imagine Hal’s keeping her too busy…
As I watch, Marc sighs. I might not be great at interpreting people, but I can tell from his stance that he’s upset about something. I want to go out there, slide my arms around him, and tell him I’m there for him. Again, I think what a bizarre arrangement we have, where we can be so intimate one moment—I think of what I did for him, on top of him, this afternoon, and blush—and yet in other ways not know each other at all.
I tear my gaze away and look back at the others, half wishing I hadn’t told them.
But Sally smiles and says, “Don’t worry, we won’t say anything.”
Sure enough, as Marc hangs up, slides the phone back in his pocket, and returns to the restaurant, Ashton starts up a conversation about the local elections, and by the time Marc sits, everyone’s talking and laughing as we finish off the meal.
I lean a little bit closer to him and say softly, “Everything okay?”
He nods and gives a tight smile, but he pushes his plate away with the food unfinished, picks up his beer, and swallows the last few mouthfuls in one go.
I finish off my own dinner, wishing he’d confide in me. Maybe when we get back, he’ll feel more relaxed and able to talk.
But after we leave the restaurant, and we’re driving back to the lighthouse, despite my attempt at conversation he remains quiet, his gaze distant, and I feel our previous closeness dissipating. I want to hang onto it, but it’s like mist, and I can feel it slipping through my fingers.
When we arrive and go in, I decide to give it one more shot. “Is something bothering you?” I ask. “Do you want to talk about it?”
But he shakes his head, going over instead to where we left the glasses and the bottle of whisky I brought him, and proceeds to pour us both a shot.
When Daniel was in a mood, I just turned away and busied myself with something else, but for some reason tears prick my eyes. “Is it me?” I whisper. “Have I done something to upset you?”
