Gil startles, causing the jewellery box to jump out of his palm. Thankfully, his reflexes are lightning quick, and his fingers curl around it before it can tumble into the murky river. I’m so furious I don’t even care.
‘How could you?’ I think I scream the words, but when I hear my own voice, it’s so low and menacing it sends a shiver down my back. ‘You had them in your pocket the whole time!’ I shake my head, unable to believe even Gil is capable of this, but the velvet box in his fist proves me wrong. ‘How could you be so cruel?’
Doesn’t he realize the pain it would have caused me – and Simon – to believe, even for a moment, that those rings were lost?
He stares back at me, his face totally blank, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. For a moment, I suspect he’s going to defend himself or at least give me an explanation, but then he shrugs. It’s the most infuriating gesture in the history of the universe.
‘I was going to steal them,’ he says, the slanting moonlight picking up the sharp jut of his left cheekbone. ‘Pawn them and buy a motorbike, but …whoops!Busted.’
‘Don’t even …’
His mouth becomes a thin line. ‘Don’t like where I’m going with this? I’m just reading from the script you wrote for me, Erin. I thought you’d be pleased.’
The fact he’s making no sense makes me even angrier. I’d push him clear over the top of the balustrade and into the river, but he’s still holding the rings. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about the little story you’ve got going in your head about me.’
I surprise myself by letting out a snort of harsh laughter. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. To write a … What did you call it? Ascriptabout you, I’d have to spend more than a nanosecond thinking about you. Which I don’t.’
His eyebrows rise, and the look he gives me back makes my palms itch. I want to smack it from his face so badly, but being carted away in a police car for assault is not how I want to spend the evening before my wedding.
‘Oh, yes? Then why “joke” …’ he does that annoying air quote thing with his fingers ‘… about me losing the rings in the first place?’
I don’t have an answer to that. I don’t know why I said what I did.
‘You don’t know me well enough for it to be funny but not cutting, Erin. You have tolikesomeone for that sort of thing to work. You’re a smart woman. You know that.’
He’s right. It was a jab, pure and simple.
This is the reason I dislike my fiancé’s best friend. He sees the things I hate most about myself,the petty, imperfect things I’m desperately trying to erase. And he never fails to not only spot them, but to hold them up to me like a mirror.
I come back with the only thing I can think of. ‘Well, that was a really shitty thing to do. Maybe you don’t knowmewell enough to play cruel jokes on me the night before my wedding.’
He looks straight at me, his stare unwavering. It makes my skin crawl. Or tingle. I’m not sure which. ‘I know you a lot better than you think.’
I shake my head. ‘No … because if you knew me, if you knew how hard the last few weeks have been, you’d never have …’ and then – oh Lord – I morph from being all fire and brimstone into a soggy marshmallow. I choke back a sob, unable to continue. Fabulous. Now I’m crying in front of him. The very last thing I wanted to do. It’s like his evil superpower is the ability to make me unravel at the most inconvenient moments.
The night has become blurry, but I see movement, sense the heat of a palm only a millimetre away from the skin of my bare arm. I flinch. ‘Don’t,’ I whisper harshly as I swipe at my eyes. I don’t want his concern. Or his pity. I shiver, suddenly aware of the cold air puckering the skin of my bare arms into goosebumps.
He steps back abruptly. ‘Why? Because I only have nefarious intentions? Because I can’t possibly feel bad to see you like this?’
I stare back at him. My answer must be written all over my features, because he eventually wipes a hand over his own face and turns in a slow circle. When he’s facing me again, he sighs. ‘You know what your problem is?’
Yes, of course.I’mthe problem. I fold my arms. ‘No. What? Please enlighten me.’
He seems more amused than wounded by my sarcasm. ‘Okay,point taken. Maybe it’s my problem. Yeah, that’s more like it, but… whatever …’ He’s still making no sense, but I find I’m curious rather than angry and I wait as he gathers his thoughts then turns to look at me. ‘You always think the worst of me, Erin. You won’t ever give me a chance.’
He’s surprised by that?
‘You know why that is, Gil.’
The three of us agreed to never speak about it after that summer five years ago, but he has to know why. Whatever Gil might be, he’s not stupid either.
‘Enlighten me,’ he says, echoing my words. His tone reminds me of how it feels to rub velvet the wrong way.
I’m about to break our rule and mention the unmentionable. I’m about to give it to him straight when the light catches off my wedding ring, and I realize he’s still holding the box. Instead of answering him, I snatch it out of his hand. I don’t have the time or the energy for his games tonight. ‘I’m giving these to Simon to look after,’ I say, backing away with my prize ‘You’re right – you can’t be trusted.’
He laughs again and shakes his head. ‘And you say there’s no script.’
