Before I can answer, the balloon man blows up a pair of obscenely long balloons and twists them together into a sword. The high-pitched squeak caused by two balloons rubbing together hurts my ears and makes me think about other, similarly shaped things sliding together.
“Your sword.” He thrusts it into my hand and moves away.
The sword is even more phallic because he chose a bright pink balloon for the blade.
“Are you having a good time?” Mum pulls up a chair and sits beside me.
The party is in full swing. The buffet has been served, the cake has been cut—where did Mum get a wedding cake from at such short notice?—and Mum and Barry have danced the first dance. Throughout the evening, the number of guests has thinned down, but plenty of people remain. Some prop up the bar, others dance, but most sit around the tables chatting and laughing.
“Yes.” I lower the sword, hiding it beneath the tablecloth.
“I was hoping you and Jacob would spend some time together.”
Jacob has been avoiding me. Right now, he’s as far away from me as possible while still in the same room. An elderly woman is talking to him. His face is a picture of boredom.
“We don’t know each other.”
“He doesn’t approve.”
“Of—?”
“Me marrying his dad. He refused to do a best man’s speech.”
The last I heard, hewasgoing to do one, but we’re past any logical point for speeches to take place. At least three-quarters of the people are most likely to be rat-arsed.
“I think he wants his parents to get back together. I suppose I’m the evil witch that drove them apart.”
What does she want me to say?IfJacob feels that way, he’d be justified. Mum had an affair with a married man. In Jacob’s shoes, I don’t think I’d welcome my new stepmum with open arms either. It’s got to be doubly weird because they’re so close in age. Is that why our age gap was such a big deal to him? It’s the least of our problems. I’d rather not think of Mum being his stepmum or Barry being my stepdad, but it’s not something we can ignore.
It also doesn’t stop us from being attracted to each other. Nothing could stop my pulse from racing or my blood from heating at seeing him in a suit. I love the juxtaposition of theneat, crisp shirt and his messy, wavy hair. I want to run my fingers through it like I did when we cuddled after sex, but I won’t get the opportunity to. Jacob has made that crystal clear.
Never mind him being Mr See You Later. He’s Mr Don’t Touch now.
“Archer.”
“Sorry. What?”
“Do you think I’m wicked?”
I suck in a breath. How am I supposed to answer that? I don’t want to upset her at her wedding reception, but I’m not going to lie and tell her I wholeheartedly approve of her affair and her marriage. I don’t. How could I?
“I think it takes more than one person to ruin a marriage,” I say.
“Exactly! I’m sure Barry’s wife wasn’t perfect. There must have been a reason he looked elsewhere.”
Not what I meant. I open my mouth and snap it shut again. What’s the point?
“Would you talk to him and make him see I’m not the enemy?” Mum asks.
“What makes you think he’d listen to me?”
We won’t become a happy, blended family just because she wants us to. Jacob has every right to be mad at her and his dad, and that’s without adding the fact that we’ve fucked into the equation. I whimper. It was such a good fucking.
“What is wrong with you?” Mum asks.
“Huh?”
“You’re distracted. I swear you’re barely listening to me.”
