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Keeps the ketchup in the fridge, when everyone knows it should go in the cupboard.
It feels horribly disloyal writing a list of reasons not to trust Jack: and, to be honest, I was really scraping the barrel with the last three, which I put a line through as soon as I finish writing.
Brian was wrong. Thishasn’thelped me work out why someone would send me a message telling me not to trust Jack. All it’s done is proven how much Idotrust him. And made me feel terrible for sitting here writing down absolute nonsense in a bid to find one thing about our relationship that’s even remotely suspicious.
(And the ketchupdoeslast longer in the fridge. I hate myself.)
It’s almost dinnertime, so I snap the notebook closed and head to the dining room, steeling myself for another night of awkward questions from Jack’s mum.
As it turns out, though, she has something much worse than that planned.
“I thought we might invite your parents around tomorrow, Emerald,” Kathryn says halfway through the main course, making me choke on my steak. “Just a little get-together, you know? So we can all get to know each other before the big day.”
“That… that sounds lovely,” I say weakly, once Jack has finished thumping me on the back, and a small piece of partially chewed meat has flown out of my mouth. It lands in the center of the table, where it sits there looking a bit like I’m feeling right now: chewed up and spat out.
“You’ll have to make it in the evening, then,” says Rose immediately. “Emerald and I are going to Inverness tomorrow.”
“Inverness?” I ask, surprised. “Why?”
“Wedding dress shopping,” says Rose triumphantly. “I’ve made an appointment for you at the best place in town. Which probably won’t bethatgreat, obviously, because it’s Inverness, not Paris, but we may as well take a look there first. It’ll be fun. In a weird, Highland kind of way.”
She beams around the dinner table, as if she’s pulled off some major coup, as opposed to simply booking an appointment at a wedding dress shop. I smile anyway, excited in spite of myself. Even under the current, mystery-message-receiving circumstances, a day of trying on wedding dressesdoessound fun. What’s more, Jack has been his usual, lovely self since I got home, and his parents are being friendlier than usual, so I allow myself to relax a little, for what feels like the first time in days.
“What time did you book the appointment for, Rose?” I ask. “Because I’ll need to just quickly check with Mum and Frankie, to make sure it works for them.”
“Frankie?” says Rose, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Is that the woman with the frizzy hair?”
“It’s curly, not frizzy,” I reply, trying not to sound too argumentative, given that she’s done me a favor by arranging the appointment. “And yes, that’s her. I’m going to ask her to be my Maid of Honor, so she’ll need to be there. And Mum’s been dreaming of the day she finally gets to see me in a wedding dress practically since the moment I was born, so she’lldefinitelywant to be there.”
“Oh,” says Rose, looking put out. “I mean, I suppose, if you really have to invite them.”
“Er, yeah, I really do,” I reply, biting my lip when I see Jack glance at me warningly. “It’ll mean a lot to them both. And to me, too, actually.”
I’ve always imagined what it would be like; me and mum going wedding dress shopping, and bonding over glasses of free champagne. And, okay, I know I’m basing everything I know about this scenario on a handful of rom-coms from the mid-nineties, but still: as Rose says, it’ll be fun.
Surely?
“I think Rose was rather hoping you’d askherto be a bridesmaid,” says Jack’s mum, surprising me. “Isn’t that right, darling?”
Rose looks bashfully down at her plate as Kathryn smiles pointedly at me; the kind of smile that carries absolutely no warmth at all.
“Well, that’s no problem, is it, Emerald?” says Jack immediately, turning to me. “No reason you can’t have RoseandFrankie, is there?”
“I suppose not,” I admit, not sure how to answer this without offending them all.
The fact is, I don’twantRose to be a bridesmaid. I don’t even really know her yet. And I’m still not totally convinced she’s not the one who’s been sending those messages. I just want Frankie; that’s it. I don’t need an entourage — just my oldest friend, who’s the person I trust most in the world, after Jack.
As far as Jack’s concerned, though, the problem’s solved. I smile politely as Rose shrieks with excitement, and go back to my steak, while I try to work out how to break it to Frankie that she’s going to have Rose as a fellow bridesmaid.
I’ll tell her at the same time I ask her to be my Maid of Honor. That’ll help soften the blow. I’ll do it tomorrow, while we’re trying on the dresses.
“I’m surprised Jack can spare you from the restaurant,” says Kathryn, with a tinkly laugh. “Although, mind you, I don’t suppose it’s particularly difficult work, is it dear? More like a little hobby for you.”
She bares her teeth in an approximation of a smile, and I bite back the impulse to tell her I have a degree in English Literature, and was a pretty good — well, a reasonably competent — goal defense in my school’s netball team.
“Actually, I’m in the process of writing a book,” I tell her, surprising myself as much as everyone else around the table. “So most of my time’s taken up with that right now.”
“Are you?” says Jack, sounding genuinely delighted. “But Emerald, that’s amazing. I’ve always said you should write a book. Why didn’t you say something?”
