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Jack glances at me, and I stare back at him curiously.
Whereishe going in such a rush, anyway? I’d assumed he was just headed back to the building site, but—
“The airport,” he says, shortly. “I have a flight to catch.”
“Theairport?” I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. “But… where are you flying to? And why didn’t you tell me?”
Jack hesitates, looking unmistakably guilty. I can almostsenseBen’s smugness, even though I have my back to him.
“London,” Jack says quietly. “For a business meeting. And I didn’t tell you, because I only found out about an hour ago, and I didn’t want to ruin our so-called ‘date’. Not that I should have worried aboutthat, as it turns out.”
He glares once more at Ben, as ifhe’sthe one who ruined the stupid “date”, and not Jack himself, with his quibbles about the guest list; or Rose, with her… whatever it is Rose has been doing to get Ben here in the first place.
“I can’t believe you’ve just been sitting here arguing with me about Dylan Fraser, instead of telling me you were going to London tonight,” I tell him, my voice wobbling. “You didn’t think that was abitmore important than the seating plan, or what canapes to serve?”
I know I don’t sound entirely rational right now; I’d know even if Dadwasn’tcurrently standing behind Jack and frantically slicing his finger across his neck in the “cut” gesture to try to get me to tone it down. But Jack and I tell each other everything. Ours is not the kind of relationship where one of us just pops off to London without notice, leaving the other one behind, “business meeting” or not.
And yet, here was Jack, apparently planning to do just that.
“Jack, I want to talk to Ben,” I tell him, making up my mind. “You can go and catch your flight if that’s what you need to do, butIneed to dothis.”
“Emerald, this is ridiculous,” he says pleadingly. “I’m not going to just run off and leave you with …him.”
Hope rises, then instantly dies as he raises his wrist to look at his watch again.
“You’re going to have to, if you want to catch that flight,” I say, as coolly as I can manage. “So I guess it’s up to you.”
There’s a brief standoff, both of us waiting — and hoping — the other will back down first. Under normal circumstances, it would be me. I’m always the first to back down, the first to apologize, the first to push my own feelings aside, in favor of the other person’s. It’s just how I am. It’s how I’ve always been.
If my relationship with Ben taught me anything, though, it’s that failing to assert yourself just leaves you back living in your childhood bedroom when your partner decides to run off with all your cashandleave a giant credit card bill in your name. And by “you” I obviously mean “me” here. Because that’s what happened when I failed to stand up for myself against Ben and his secrets, and his need to control everything. That’s the main reason I want to talk to him now I finally have the chance: and it’s also the reason I’m not prepared to let Jack stop me doing it. Because making the same mistake twice wouldn’t be just an “accident”, would it? No, that would just be utter stupidity: and it would be 100% on me.
Your choice, Jack. Your choice.
For just a second, I think I’m going to win this round. That he’s going to see how important it is to me to do this, and he’s going to stay here with me and help me deal with it. Then he gives a small, almost imperceptible shrug, and all hope dies.
“Fine,” he says. “Whatever you need. You’re not taking this idiot to the house, though. I draw the line at that. Mum and Dad will be there, and they won’t understand why you’re suddenly rocking up with your ex. I don’t understand it myself, to be honest.”
“I’m not ‘rocking up’ with him anywhere, Jack,” I groan. “I just want to talk to him. Briefly.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Ben, who looks incredibly pleased with himself for a man who’s precariously perched on a plastic swan. “Verybriefly.”
“Right,” says Jack disbelievingly.A likely storysays the look on his face.
“Of course we won’t go to the house,” I tell him, hardly able to believe that I’m standing here having a conversation with my fiancé about where I might go to talk to my ex about the money he stole from me. “We’ll go to The Wildcat or somewhere.”
“Er, not there,” says Ben quickly. “Nowhere public. I can’t risk being seen.”
Before I can ask if he’s being serious, he shimmies over in the pedalo and pats the seat next to him.
“Why don’t you just jump over,” he suggests. “That might be easiest?”
I look at Jack, knowing this probably won’t go down well with him.
Jack’s looking at his phone, his brow furrowed. He’s not even watching me. He doesn’t even seem to bethinkingabout me. And, all of a sudden, I need to be as far away from this boat and its occupants (Well, with the exception of Dad, obviously, who’s been watching all of this like it’s his favorite TV show) as possible.
“Fine,” I mutter, stepping over to the side of the boat closest to Ben. “Why not?”
Jack and Rose look on silently as Dad helps me climb over the side of the boat and down to the pedalo, where Ben’s waiting.
Getting into the giant swan with my ex-boyfriend has to be one of the most surreal experiences of my life so far; and notjustbecause it’s agiant swan, obviously. Or because I’m wearing a 50s-style prom dress, which keeps blowing up in the wind. It also feels all kinds of wrong — and as Dad re-starts the engine of the boat, and Jack slowly starts to recede from view as they motor back to the dock, I can’t help feeling like this is one of those moments I’m going to look back on and want to rewind.
