I just needed to believe it was actually true.
“Like it was always meant to be.” I shrugged. “We met when she was seventeen and I was sixteen and we’ve been friends since. I guess we both just had to grow up before we could get to this stage.”
Bea smiled at me, clearly happy with my answer. “So Zoey, have you been secretly pining for Caleb for years?”
I watched her face as she answered, wondering if I’d read anything there.
“Have you seen him? Of course I have. He has this long list of girlfriends who’ll be telling their mates that they were right all along. Sometimes the slow burn gives you more heat than fireworks that fade away too quickly.” She let me pull her closer into me, her arms around my waist, her slight glance up at me making me grin back even though I knew it wasn’t real.
“So is Caleb the reason why you’re taking a break?”
“No, not at all. Caleb’s known me since this was all beginning. He has his own career that takes him on adventures and we’ve always supported each other wherever those adventures have taken us, so we’ll just carry on as we were. Just with some extra spice.” She leaned closer into me still, her hand on my shoulder, and looked up at me, her lips parting.
I kissed her, which sent the reporter into a bit of a hot haze as she spoke back to the camera filming us, leaving us to head into the hotel where the gala was taking place, catching her comments about needing to cool down.
I kept hold of Zoey’s hand, following the route laid out, security and staff dotted around. It was a high-profile event with a couple of Hollywood actors due to attend, famous sporting personalities and other singers. I knew Otter Penhaligon was at our table with her husband, Ryan O'Connell who’d played for Manchester Athletic, and the cousin of Amelie’s Callaghan friends, Maven Green who was an award-winning theatre director and her actor husband, Anthony Dewhurst, would also be there. I’d attended a couple of events with her years ago and it wasn’t exactly a hardship. I could schmooze with the best of them, which was what I was focusing on.
Not the feel of her skin under my hand and not the sound of her laughter; I needed to box those away for analysis later when I could steep myself in tangled threads of confusion about how she might actually feel.
“Champagne?”
There was no other answer but yes to that. At least that was straightforward.
“I know we’ve known each other for nearly forever, but we haven’t got any plans to get married anytime soon.” Zoey squeezed my hand, which could be translated intodon’t laughandbehave.
“What do you think about that Caleb?” It was an older woman asking questions who I felt I should know but couldn’t place. We were too far into a conversation to ask what her name was now and I suspected as soon as Zoey told me who she was, I’d be kicking myself.
I squeezed Zoey’s hand back. I would behave right now. “We’ve only been a couple for a few months. I think we want more of that.”
The woman nodded, looking from me to Zoey with interest. “Don’t wait too long and don’t overthink things. That’d be my advice.”
“Thank you,” Zoey said before the returning the woman’s air kisses and watching her walk over to greet someone else.
“Who was that?”
Zoey laughed at me, turning around so we were face to face. “Didn’t you recognise her? It was Renee Dean, the country singer.”
“Really? I had no idea.” I was stopped from trying to justify my ignorance by the lights dimming and the band that’d been playing background music fading out.
An announcement was made, introducing a singer who was part of the price point for the tickets. A low, smooth voice filled the room, the start of a slow song that I knew was a fan favourite.
“Want to dance?” I took hold of Zoey’s hand. If we were dancing we wouldn’t need to talk and I would further delay saying something I couldn’t take back. The champagne and whisky served at the end of dinner – excellent – had made me feel loose-lipped.
I wanted to tell her things.
I wanted to talk to her about how easy it was to pretend to be in love with her, because I was.
I wanted to tell her how I didn’t think this should be fake, and why couldn’t we give it chance for real.
I wanted to tell her that the reason I hadn’t had a serious relationship was because no one measured up to her, but that I knew she didn’t feel the same.
“Let’s dance,” She whispered, her hand against the back of my neck, moving with me to the dance floor.
It was easy to take her in my arms and sway, holding her close enough so no one would doubt that we were together, but not close enough to torture myself even more.
“Have you enjoyed tonight?” She shifted tortuously closer.
“I have. It’s been fun. I hope we’ve been convincing.” I knew we had.
