Patrick felt in his pocket for the velvet box he’d brought with him. “I love her.”
Sharon Walker looked unimpressed. “Are you sure?”
“More than anything. And this isn’t… I’m not rushing. Me and Cheryl have known each other for ages. I’m more sure about marrying her than I’ve ever been about anything.”
“I see. Well, you’re a very handsome young man…”
“And Cheryl’s the most beautiful, amazing girl in the world.”
“On that, we agree.” She took another drag of her cigarette. “We’re a very unlucky family. The Walker Curse, Cheryl calls it. Things tend to go from bad to worse and back again. Are you sure that’s something you want to sign up for?”
“Yes,” he said at once. “I mean, no. I mean… I think I can make things better. I want to make things better. For Cheryl and you and-and anyone that might come in the future. Family-wise.”
Sharon Walker smiled, and there was Cheryl. That luminous, cat-like softness. “Good. Now, would you like to ask me if you can marry CeeCee or should we talk about the weather first?”
17
One week before the yacht party
Cheryl hung up the phone. Her mum had forgotten to take her medication yesterday and today her blood pressure had spiked until Felicity had to take her to the emergency room. The doctor had given her a short course of anti-inflammatories.
“You’ll have to make sure she takes them,” Felicity had said. “They’re in her pill container but she keeps losing it.”
Miserable, Cheryl wandered around her apartment, moving things that didn’t need to be moved, desperately searching for something to do. She decided to take her recycling down early and toed on her Ugg boots. She opened her door and almost tripped over the flowers lying on her front step.
Abandoning her empty wine bottles and meat packaging, she picked up the bouquet and carried it inside. It was the most beautiful arrangement she’d ever received, but there was no card. It wasn’t her birthday, and she hadn’t gotten promoted or won the lottery, which left two suspects.
She called Patrick, ready to gush praise and accusations, but he didn’t answer. She sent a text.
Tell me you didn’t send me flowers, Patty-Bear? You’re already so sweet it hurts.
He didn’t reply. Not even once she’d arranged the flowers in a vase and dropped off the recycling. She texted Eden.
Hey George, you sent me flowers?
Unlike Patrick, Eden wrote back at once.
Nope. Probably your boy bestie.
Maybe. He usually leaves a note though.
You guys have the weirdest friendship. On that topic, there’s something you need to see. Patrick came over to show off his tuxedo pre-yacht party. Behold.
Eden sent through a video. Cheryl clicked it and saw Patrick in black-tie, carrying Jupiter. She climbed up his chest like a little monkey and he lifted her into the air. Jupiter screamed with delight as Patrick turned to look at the camera…
That smile. He looked, there was no other word for it, radiant. Tall and handsome and manly with his neat hair and two-day stubble. Anyone would have thought he was Jupiter’s dad. The man and the little girl waved and then the video ended.
Cheryl watched it three more times.
What do you think? Eden wrote. Pretty cute, huh?
She tried to reply ‘cute!’ but her thumbs wouldn’t let her. She replayed the video, pausing on the moment Patrick turned to the camera and smiled, his face full of joy.
He’s going to be such a great dad. The kind everyone needs.
Then she burst into tears. Not cute tears—‘monsoon breaking open the heavens in a nature documentary’ tears. One second, she was dry, the next she was sobbing and gasping, snot and saltwater running down her face until her neighbour on the right pounded on their shared wall. That got her to stop. She wiped the tears and mucus from her face.
So cute, she texted Eden. See you at the party.
