Confusion is written all over his face. ‘About …?’ He looks around to the trees, to the stars, searching for an answer. ‘About our honeymoon? About St Lucia?’
I shake my head. ‘About us.’
His lips press together and he frowns. Hard. ‘You … You think we made a mistake getting married?’
I nod. I want to cry. I know this isn’t real, but in this moment it feels like it. I’ve never even broken up with someone before – I’m always slavishly loyal until the moment they dump me out of the blue – let alone ended a marriage.
‘But we’ve been together for years. You said this is what you wanted! For months you’ve done nothing but talk about the wedding and plan, and talk and plan …’
I nod again. I know this must make no sense to him. And there’s no way I can rectify that. This whole scenario makes no sense to me either. We’re in the same boat.
‘And you couldn’t have told me this four days ago? Before I stood in the church like an absolute mug waiting for you?’
I look down at the floor. ‘No.’ It’s the truth. I couldn’t have. ‘Why?’ There’s a catch in his voice that makes me look up sharply. I’ve never seen Gil look anything other than unreadable or cocky in real life, but the last few days he’s been weirdly nice, acting like a normal human being. Though right now, he looks like I punched a hole in his chest and closed my fist around his heart.
‘It’s …’ I stop to wipe away a tear I feel rolling down my cheek. ‘It’s complicated.’
I expect that rough, barking, sarcastic laugh of his to erupt out of him, but he just stares at me, completely at a loss. I can’t stand to watch him any more, so I push my chair back and walk over to the nearest section of railing overlooking the bay. I don’t want him to think I’m walking out on him. I just need some space, some air.
When I glance round a minute later, he’s sitting on the chair still,his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. He must sense me looking, because his head bobs up and he meets my eyes. For a few long heartbeats we just stare at each other and then a change rolls across his features. Realization. Revelation.
My stomach goes cold as his expression hardens.
‘It’s Simon, isn’t it?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Present Day
‘Wh–what makes you say it’s got something to do with Simon?’ My stomach is properly churning. All those bubbles might not have been such a good idea.
‘I saw your face when he kissed Anjali after she caught the bouquet.’ Gil’s expression is blank now. ‘At the time, it didn’t sit right with me, but I told myself that maybe you were surprised.’
I nod mutely. It had certainly been a surprise.
‘But after what you’ve just said, I realized there might be another explanation for the complete look of shock and, yes, pain, I saw on your face. I’m right, aren’t I?’
My first instinct is to deny it. I hadn’t planned to go this far with my revelations. I don’t want to hurt Gil like this, even though I’ve fantasized about crushing his soul a thousand times over. And if it isn’t a dream, if I’ve slipped into this life and this is my future, I can’t keep pretending. I need to stop pleasing everybody else and go after what I want. And what I want is Simon. There’s no reason we can’t be together in this version of my life, too. All I have to do is be brave enough to say what I want and stuff what anyone else thinks.
Easier said than done when you’re staring into a pair of eyes that look like dark hollows. My lips have suddenly gone dry and I moisten them before giving my answer. ‘Yes,’ I say, and it’s barely more than a rough whisper. ‘You’re right.’
Gil’s mouth drops open as if he can’t really believe what he’s hearing, even though he said he knew already, and then I see a pilot light go on inside him, a tiny flame that seems harmless but is only a precursor to a full and raging inferno. My insides begin to quiver. What have I done?
‘How long?’
I frown. ‘How long what?’
Gil leans forward and practically spits the words at me. ‘How long have you been screwing my best friend behind my back?’
Tears roll down my face and I shake my head. ‘No … You don’t understand! It’s not like that …’
He folds his arms. ‘Then explain it to me.Please.’
This is the Gil I know. Caustic and sarcastic. Able to reduce me to the size of an amoeba just by looking at me. But there’s no comfort in this familiarity. I swipe at my face with my hands and sniff back the snot gathering inside my nose. ‘I … I can’t.’
‘Come on, Erin,’ he says with faux geniality. ‘It’s not that hard. Did it start in one of those patches where you were home from yachting, or is it a more recent thing? That’s all I need to know.’
I feel like withering away, or dissolving into a puddle and sliding through the gaps in the decking. I close my eyes and try to take a steady breath. I chose this path. I’ve got to see this through. There’s no turning back now.
