‘Out of my budgetandbad for the environment.’
‘Really?’
‘So terrible. Crazy carbon footprint.’ Ren nodded. ‘Come on, Phoebe, you’re the one who got me into this. I want to do something incredible. Something she’ll never forget.’
I was the one.
This was all on me.
‘I don’t think she needs big flashy gestures; she’d love something like this,’ I said, his face lighting up, and I knew I’d got it right. ‘Maybe not here though,’ I added quickly. ‘I don’t think a cemetery is Bel’s speed.’
Now that was an outright lie. Bel would probably love a quirky date amongst the dead but I allowed myself to be selfish about this one thing. I wanted to keep our evening all to myself.
‘I guess not every woman would be into a graveyard picnic,’ he acknowledged before settling back on the blanket. ‘You’re right, low-key is the way to go. It’s about the two of us getting to know each other. It doesn’t need to be flashy, it should be … intimate.’
Somewhere across the lawn, a peacock screeched loudly on my behalf.
‘Thanks, Phoebe,’ Ren added. ‘You’re a pal.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ I replied, pouring myself more wine with one hand and reaching for another cookie with the other. ‘Anything for a friend.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The scene was set.
Ren’s back garden sparkled with the string lights I’d spent all afternoon trailing up and down the yard while dozens upon dozens of white candles of varying heights glowed inside tall, protective hurricane vases because there was nothing sexy about a forest fire. Except for firemen and even they were bound to be mad at you if they found out you’d caused it yourself. To make things feel cosier, I’d covered the poolside furniture with beautiful cashmere throws that would hopefully return to my sister’s house unscathed, set a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket and cued up my most romantic Spotify playlist, the one I used to listen to when I was writing my Valentine’s cards. I hadn’t listened to it in years but the moment the first song whispered through his speakers, I knew it was the right choice. The garden felt like a secret, the string lights and candles glowing with the promise of magic. Even the sunset had put on a show, igniting the sky with athousand flames, red and orange and pink burning up the clouds above us.
Everything was perfect.
And it was all for Bel.
‘Whoa, is this really my backyard?’ Ren padded out of his house barefoot, his mouth hanging open. His worn blue jeans and grey T-shirt looked so soft, moving with his body as he came over to give me a hug. I held my breath against his signature scent but it was a pointless exercise; when he released me to inspect the food set out on the coffee table, I was drowning in him.
‘Phoebe, I don’t know how to thank you, this is above and beyond,’ he said, picking up a pink macaron and examining it closely. ‘You did all this while I was out buying timber?’
‘No big deal,’ I replied. ‘It took no time at all, I hardly lifted a finger.’
It had taken five hours, a big chunk of my mermaid dollars and most of my will to live, not to mention blood, sweatandtears when I dropped one of the hurricane vases on my big toe. The effect was enough to sweep anyone off their feet, let alone someone who had already texted me to ask whether or not I thought she should bother wearing underwear.
‘You’re wasted in copywriting – you should get into the events business.’ He put down the macaron and popped the cap on one of the two bottles of beer he was carrying before handing it to me. ‘When you said you’d help smarten up the yard, I wasn’t expecting this.’
‘You said you wanted it to be special,’ I told him, the cold condensation on the beer bottle soothing my hot,dry hands. ‘I’d like to think someone would do the same for me.’
He didn’t say anything, just tipped the bottle of beer to his lips and took a long, deep drink.
The confusing emotional stew I’d felt the night before at the cemetery hadn’t eased off at all over the course of the day and I was so full of feelings, I felt like I might burst. I was happy for Bel, my new friend who had literally saved my life, and happy for Ren because he deserved someone who cared as deeply about him as she did. Then there was a good shot of pride. I’d done good work, my love letter had been a success and the garden really did look beautiful and I was pleased with that too, but underneath, there was the quiet thrum of something less altruistic. A loose green thread that threatened to unravel the rest. I was jealous. Jealous of the unguarded excitement in Ren’s voice when he talked about Bel. Jealous of the eggplant emojis in her last ten texts. Jealous of the champagne and the strawberries and the fact that none of this was for me. My eyes lingered on Ren, drinking him in as the string lights danced in his dark eyes and it hit me again.
I was jealous.
In the back pocket of my jeans, my phone vibrated and a tidal wave of guilt flooded through me.
‘It’s Bel,’ I said, holding my handset aloft as my heart sank. ‘She’s here. I’ll go and get her.’
‘Phoebe, you’ve done more than enough,’ he protested. ‘I’ll go, you go enjoy your evening.’
‘No, no, you stay here, pour the champagne,’ I shook my head as I hustled past him, practically running tothe side gate. ‘I’m going out that way anyway, it’s no bother. You don’t want me here on your date.’
And what’s more, I didn’t want me there.
