‘Maybe she’s met someone,’ I respond, testing the waters.
‘Nah, she’s got a boyfriend, and she’s married to her job.’
My heart sinks because this raises the question that if they’re through, why hasn’t she appeared to tell anyone she’s single now? Maybe it’s time to call her bluff.
‘Listen, I was thinking about what you said the other night. About doing dinner more often.’
‘Why, Christopher!’ Fuck it. I hate it when he uses my name like that. ‘Are you suggesting we double date?’
‘Kiss my hairy ball bag, Rory.’
‘That’s more your thing than mine. But I’m sure you know a man who can.’
‘You’re a dick.’
‘Why, ‘causebro jobsdon’t do it for me? I think it’s the idea of the brush of stubble against my ball bag that puts me off.’
‘You’re a bawbag,’ I counter. ‘Just forget I said anything.’ My words are expelled though gritted teeth. I’m really not in the mood for verbal sparring right now.
‘Absolutely not. I’ve got you on loudspeaker, and I’m texting this to Fin as we speak. This Friday good for you?’
‘I never said I was bringing anyone.’
‘No, butyou areseeing someone. Call ittwin-tuition.’
I sigh. Heavily. ‘You sound like a cartoon budgie. You been watching kid’s TV again?’
‘Ah, you can scoff, but I know,’ he responds in an all-knowing and supercilious tone. And he absolutely isn’t serious. Taking the piss is our default mode.
‘Had your hand on your crystal balls, have you?’
‘I just know when someone special is polishing my brother’s set. Personal business, my arse crack,’ he adds, laughing. ‘I take it this fella you’re seeing is Scottish?’
Why? Because I’m in Scotland? I suppose I could tell him I am here to fuck Bea—not that he’d believe me—and he’d still tell Fin. I sense that might be unwelcome. At this stage, at least.
‘Have I ever told you how you make fratricide so appealing?’
‘Heaps of times,’ he replies as quick as a flash. Because it’s true. ‘It’s about time you met someone. Just bring the fucker into the fold. It would’ve made Meg so happy to see us both settled.’
I don’t have an answer. None. Meg was the one person who loved us both unconditionally, and that’s not likely to happen for me ever again. I swallow the sudden knot in my throat, not sure why this conversation would make me feel like this today. I don’t have an answer, but I do have some thoughts. Somewhat devious thoughts regarding the woman who has my attention right now.
‘You should invite Bea along.’
‘To a double date? She’d feel like a spare prick at a wedding, dining with two loved up couples.’
‘What about her boyfriend?’ I ask as blandly as I can, the knot in my throat suddenly calcifying. ‘Ask her to invite him. Tell her we’re both bringing along someone, and she should, too.’
‘See, I knew it! I knew you were seeing someone, ya’ bastard!’
‘Stay focused, Rory. I know you’ve got the attention span of a Border Collie, but try.’
‘What? Dinner. On it. A table for four for Friday.’
‘Inviting Bea,’ I add an air of long suffering.
‘Nah, her boyfriend lives in Dubai or something. He’s never around.’ After a beat, he adds, ‘Oh, hang on. Twin-tuition seems to be extending to Fin. She’s just suggested the same thing. Apparently, Bea’s boyfriend might be in town.’
Could this be the reason she hasn’t told anyone she’s single?
Fuck.
What if she’s not?
