“Sweetheart, I saw the way you looked at each other on that dance floor the first night. There wasnothingfake about that.” She fans her face as though to cool herself down.
“But Warren—”
Louise holds up a hand.
“I’m going to stop you right there and say your friend Mei is right.”
She pauses for me to interrupt, but I’ve got nothing, so she continues. “I don’t know you well enough to say if this is self-sabotage, but I can see you’re holding on to this narrative Warren spun very tightly. Why are you determined to believe the worst?”
“I’m not.” But even I can hear my voice is uncertain. I square my shoulders. “It’s a moot point anyway. It was going to end when we left Hawaii, so what’s the use of prolonging the agony? At least this way, I walk away with my pride intact. And he doesn’t have to make up an excuse as to why he needs to break up with me.”
“What has he said or done that makes you think he’s going to break up with you?”
“Oh, come on. You’ve met us. He’s lovely and charming and interesting. And I’m … not. This whole thing is for the best. At least this way I’m giving him an out.” Saying it’s for the best and truly believing it are not the same thing. But maybe if I say it enough, it will become true.
“Excuse me?” she all but screeches, jumping up from her seat on the wall and planting her hands on her hips. “There is so much wrong with that … argh!” She spins in a circle, shaking her head before visibly attempting to calm herself.
“Okay. I’m not even going to dignify that bullshit about you not being worthy with a response. What I will say is, how dare you? How dare you think it’s your right to decide for Ant what he wants and how he feels? That man put aside his life and travelledto a horrendous wedding for you. The very least you owe him is an honest conversation.”
I feel like a landed fish, flapping around at the bottom of a boat, gasping for air.
I guzzle what’s left in my glass and hold it out for more. Louise obliges before she carries on.
“And if he says he’s done, then you have your answer. But don’t make assumptions. I’d bet Emily’s prenup that’s not how it turns out.”
She’s right.
I need to find him. To give him the chance to explain fully. And to find out how he’s actually feeling. No assumptions.
“What if he’s left? What if he’s packed up and gone back to Sydney?” I need to have this conversation now. I need closure. Or clarity. Regardless of the outcome, I need to know.
“Well, you’re not going to find out sitting here at the overblown wedding of your awful cousin, are you? And if he has, well, you get on a plane and go too. It’s not like you don’t know where to find him.”
Champagne sloshes across my hand as I leap up from the wall.
“Yes. I need to find him.” I shove the glass at her.
“Umm, before you do, you might like to tidy yourself up a little.” Louise waves her hand towards my face. “Come with me. We’ll find the ladies’ room.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ant
Ican see the bridal party—it’s so big you could probably see it from space—standing at the edge of the cliff being rearranged by the photographer when I arrive at the chapel. The guests are clustered on the terrace, guzzling champagne and eating bite sized canapes.
I scan the group. There’s no sign of Lilavati, but I do spot Marion and Warren. Marion looks miserable, but he’s smiling and laughing like he hasn’t a care in the world. Fucker.
I didn’t come here to cause a scene. But I do need to say my piece. My plan is to wait until I can get him alone.
I tighten my silk tie, straighten my cuffs, button the jacket of my Zegna suit and wait in the shadow of the pine trees.
It’s not long before Warren excuses himself from the group and heads into the building, presumably to find the bathroom. Perfect place to confront a turd.
I follow the signs and, sure enough, there he is. He’s just unzipped when I step up beside him at the urinal.
“Good afternoon, Warren.”
He jumps at the sound of my voice, and pee splashes on the floor, very close to his shoes. I decide to even the playing field by unzipping and taking a leak myself.
