Willow tutted. “That’s not nice, Hardo. Cheryl won’t abandon Psycho at a fancy party. She’s the Padmé to his Anakin. But, like, when Anakin was a child slave who did pod racing and Padmé had to babysit him.”
At this, his friends fell over each other howling with laughter. Patrick turned to face the water. He could take shit. You couldn’t play footy, any team sport, and not take shit, but when it came to Cheryl, he didn’t have much of a sense of humour. Maybe Derek and Willow knew it because their laughter faded.
“Sorry,” Willow said. “It’s Derek’s fault.”
“Cheers.” Derek squinted at Cheryl. “Seriously, Psycho, I know she’s a stunner, but you’re not actually…?”
Patrick knew exactly where this was going but fuck if he was going to make Derek’s job easier. “Not actually what?”
“You know. Girl’s gotta be, what? Thirty?”
“Thirty-two,” Willow said promptly.
Derek gave a low whistle.
“The hell are you whistling about?” Patrick snarled, surprised by his own anger.
Derek blinked. “Sorry, mate. Just… don’t you think she’s a bit old for you?”
“It’s not even a ten-year age gap and Cheryl looks way younger!”
“Yeah, but…”
Derek didn’t need to finish his sentence. Patrick knew what he meant. “Yeah, but Cheryl’s the age when girls get married and have kids and you’re the age where guys drink beer out of their own shoes.”
That’s why his family didn’t see him and Cheryl getting together. That’s why no one in the whole fucking world saw them getting together. As far as everyone who wasn’t him was concerned, he and Cheryl might be on the same track, but they were miles apart and they’d never end up in the same place at the same time.
“It doesn’t matter that Cheryl’s in her thirties,” he said, trying and failing to not sound defensive.
“Does it matter that she seems pretty invested in fucking the elderly?” Willow asked. “Like, to the exclusion of all dicks born after 1975?”
Patrick put his glass on the railing before it shattered. “She doesn’t—”
“How do you know that?” Derek demanded of Willow. “She’s chatting to that old guy but that doesn’t mean she only rates old guys.”
“I went on tour with her, remember? Back when she was Eden’s media chick?” Willow rolled his eyes heavenward. “There were non-stop listeners of talkback radio coming out of her hotel room at three in the morning. I don’t think a single one of them could have synced an iPhone to save themselves.”
Derek laughed and Willow joined him, and Patrick debated pushing both of them overboard.
The kids, he told himself. Think of their kids.
“Sorry,” Willow said, wiping his streaming eyes. “I don’t wanna be a dick, but it’s just too funn—”
“Afternoon, boys.” Bethany Myers appeared at Willow’s elbow. Her dark red hair was twisted into an elaborate crown and her usually friendly face was stern. “Are you enjoying the party?”
Derek and Willow exchanged nervous looks.
“Hi, Beth,” Derek said loudly. “How are you?”
“I’m wonderful.” Beth stroked a hand over her pregnant belly like an evil genius petting a cat. “Mara was telling me your new book is doing really well in Japan.”
Derek looked like he’d just sucked a lemon. “She did, huh?”
“Yes. I didn’t realise they had such a big fantasy market. You must be so happy!”
“I… am,” Derek said through gritted teeth.
Patrick stared determinedly at the ocean so he wouldn’t laugh.
