‘Bronnie got it for me,’ Lachie replies, and he’s already smiling at me when I turn to catch his eye.
‘She’s got good taste, your girlfriend.’ Fliss flashes me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
‘Too bloody right, she does,’ Lachie jokes, grabbing my hand and tugging me towards him. He loops his arms around my waist from behind and plants a kiss on my cheek.
‘Aw,’ Fliss says soppily, smiling at us both before calling out to Elliot. ‘Oi, El, are you buying me a drink or what?’ She steps away to join our friend.
Eventually, Lachie has to go and do his set. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him gig – obviously I can’t go to any of the weddings he does, but I miss the days when we used to work together. As he takes to the stage, the venue fills with deafening cheers and whoops – his mates have got some lungs on them. I feel a wave of pride. Lachie looks so right up there, so at ease and sexy with his ripped jeans, dark T-shirt and shaggy blond hair. With his short beard, he looks a lot like how he did when we first met, albeit with broader shoulders these days. He’s even more attractive, if that’s possible.
He casts his eyes over the audience with a lazy, delightful grin as he sits down on a stool. Then he leans towards the mic and says a simple, affectionate ‘hi’ before launching into a stripped-back acoustic version of The Killers’ ‘When You Were Young’.
‘Ah, man!’ I hear Nathan exclaim with dismay.
I cast him a sideways look.
‘I can’t believe Lucy’s missing this. She loves this song,’ he explains.
‘Is she still coming?’ She’s pretty late. I hope she’s okay.
‘Finn was throwing a tantrum, but she’s on her way,’ he promises.
Lachie catches my eye during the first instrumental section and smiles, prompting a series of tiny shivers to spiral down my spine. I still fancy him. So much.
I remember the first time I saw Lachie on stage. It was at a wedding in Scotland and, when he appeared, both Rachel and I swooned. We couldn’t take our eyes off him.
‘The hottest wedding singer I’ve ever come across, period,’ were Rachel’s exact words.
He joined us for a beer during one of his breaks. He seemed so young and flirty to me at the time – not boyfriend material in the slightest. I was shocked when he later asked if he could come up to my room. He’d caught a cab back with us to our hotel and I’d naturally assumed he was staying there. We’d had a few drinks together and I thought he was sweet, but I wasn’t about to sleep with him, the cheeky git,orlet him crash on my floor, which was his next question.
He ended up kipping in his car – he didn’t have a hotel room booked, after all. I felt a little bad about that, but he didn’t seem fazed. That was just what he was like – free and easy.
Not long afterwards, he rocked up in London and sought me out – I’d told him where I worked. We became friends, although he later revealed he’d had the hots for me from the beginning. I was so caught up in Alex that I didn’t have room in my heart – or life – for anyone else, even though the situation with Alex was hopeless.
When Lachie and I eventually got together, it was after Alex had stepped right back. It’s not that I hadn’t been attracted to Lachie before, because I definitely had; I just hadn’t visualised a future for us.
Four and a half years later, here we are.
After a few songs, Lachie does ‘Cocoon’ by Catfish and the Bottlemen, one of our favourite bands.
When he gets to the part in the lyric about his girl staying to outdrink him, he smirks to himself and looks down at his strumming hands on the guitar. But the next time he sings these words he grins out at the audience. Something makes me search for Fliss in the crowd and, from the look on her face, I know straightaway that they’re sharing in some private joke.
My stomach turns over, and then a pair of hands land on my waist. I jump and twist around to see Lucy.
‘Hi!’ she shouts over the music.
‘Hey!’ I try to sound as enthusiastic as I would if I hadn’t just witnessed what I’d witnessed.
She tilts her face up to Nathan, who obligingly presses a kiss to her lips. ‘Hell?’ he asks.
‘Shocking.’ She casts her eyes heavenwards, shrugs and nods.
Distracted, my eyes return to the stage. Lachie isn’t looking at Fliss any more, but another glance at her reveals that she’s still grinning at him, rapt.
‘Sorry I’m so late!’ Lucy says in my ear, chinking my beer bottle with what looks like vodka and cranberry.
‘No worries at all,’ I reply, trying to ignore the sick feeling roiling in my gut.
Am I losing Lachie?
