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“There’s another one,” I say, trying to show him, but he just turns away and goes back to his paperwork.
“I don’t have time for this, Emerald,” he says warningly. “My parents have just arrived. They want to see the house and the town. I want to show them all of this stuff —” he gestures to the Emerald View plans, which he’s now holding — and help them get settled in. And you… you’re somehow expecting me to drop everything and focus on some stupid drama you’re having with your friends, or whatever. God, what must they bethinking?”
He runs his hands through his hair again, and, for the first time ever, it doesn’t make me think about how cute he looks when he does that.
“It’s not ‘stupid drama’,” I say indignantly. “How can you even think that?”
“Because there’s alwayssomethingwith you, Emerald, isn’t there?” Jack replies wearily. “If it’s not you pretending you’re someone else, it’s you leaving the keys to the house on a table at The Wildcat, or… or trying to climb an electric fence and almost killing yourself. And now it’s you barging into my office and telling my parents that someone you don’t even know is spreading lies about me. Can you not see how this looks? Could you be any more dramatic?”
“Those things wereaccidents,” I say defensively. “I didn’tknowit was an electric fence when I climbed it. But this is different, Jack — can’t you see that? This isn’t coming from me. It’s someone else saying these things. And I thought I was doing the right thing by telling you about it. Because I promised I’d never keep anything from you ever again. And I thought—”
I trail off miserably, knowing I’ll just start crying if I try to go on. It’s what I do. Well, that and bringing the “drama”, according to my fiancé.
Is that really what he thinks of me?
“If it’s all just lies — and I believe you that it is — then I don’t think I’m the one you need to be angry with, Jack,” I say, as evenly as I can manage. “I just thought you would want to know about it, is all. I thought that would be better than keeping it to myself, and having it turn into some big secret that would end up coming between us, like… well, like the last time.”
“Of course I want to know.”
Jack puts his pile of paperwork back on the desk, and suddenly the angry stranger I’ve been talking to is gone, and Jack is standing in his place.
My Jack.
The relief is indescribable. I feel like for the last couple of hours of my life, Jack has been played by an actor — and not a very good one, to be honest — but now the real Jack is back, and we’ll laugh about this later.
Will we though? Or will I just lie awake later, over-thinking every word he’s said to me, and thinking of the perfect come-backs to Kathryn, five hours too late? Because that also seems like a strong possibility.
“Of course I want to know,” he says again, his voice softer now. “Just… not like this, Emerald. Not in front of my parents, who’ve traveled all this way to see us both.”
“No, of course not,” I say hurriedly. “I totally get that. It’s been ages since you saw them and the last thing you needed was … well, all ofthis, basically.”
I wave my hands expansively in the air to indicate “all of this”.
“Look, I have no idea what these messages are about, or who they’re from,” Jack says wearily. “But I’m not hiding anything from you, and I’m not ‘dodgy’. I’m hurt that you’d even have to ask, to be honest. Is that really what you think of me?”
I tense in surprise as he echoes my own thought from just a few minutes ago.
Maybe neither of us has been entirely honest, then.
“I know you’re not a liar, Jack,” I say firmly, refusing to entertain this thought for even a second longer. “Of course I know that. Butsomeoneis lying here, and I want to know why. Because it’s driving me crazy. Every time I get a message now, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“Come here,” Jack sighs, pulling me towards him for a hug. He puts his arms around me, and I snuggle my head into his shoulder, relieved to be back on speaking — well,snuggling— terms again.
“It’s probably just some crank,” he says into my hair. “I get stuff like this every now and then. I’ll get John to look into it first thing in the morning, I promise.”
I nod, unconvinced. John is the guy who does the PR for Jack’s distillery, so I’m not quite sure how his skills will come into play here: and given the way he always talks to my breasts rather than me, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to behimsending those messages.
“I just need to know you trust me,” Jack goes on, holding me tightly. “I couldn’t stand it if I thought you didn’t trust me. I mean, I don’t evenseeMcTavish all that often, so God knows when I’d have the chance to lie to him.”
“I do trust you,” I mumble into his shoulder. “Of course I do. And I’m sorry again for ruining the surprise with your parents. I’ll make it up to them, I promise. And to you, too.”
I don’t bother telling him how secretly disappointed I am that he doesn’t see McTavish often enough to lie to him; not just because that would sound utterly batshit, but because when Jack and I first got together, I’d harbored hopes of them becoming besties, like me and Frankie, and us all hanging out together. But Jack says he doesn’t have time for “hanging out” and McTavish says Jack’s “a great galoot”. So, now I come to think about it, it wouldn’t surprise me if it washim, either.
Oh God, Ihaveto stop thinking like this. I’ll be suspecting Jude Paw, my parents’ poodle, next. (Although, to be fair, sending vaguely sinister messages is exactly the kind of thing the Paw would do, if he could just work out how to use a phone.)
“How long are your parents staying for?” I ask when he lets me go, trying not to sound like I’m hoping the answer to that’s going to be “right after dinner”. Even though Iamhoping that’s going to be the answer.
“I think they’ll probably stay until after the wedding,” he says, dashing my hopes to the ground. “Their house in France is having some work done, and there’s plenty of room here, so it makes sense; especially if we have the wedding this summer. We were talking about next month — the 20th, maybe. What do you think?”
