It seems like it takes forever for everyone to leave, and as the heavy oak door slams closed, I lean my head forward, resting it on the back of the pew in front of me as I try hard to breathe over the pain in my chest.
She left with another man.
Jon would be my guess.
He cheated on her.
Would she really take him back?
‘What’re you doing in here, numpty?’ The space is darker as I turn my head to the aisle where Rory now stands. ‘What the fuck are you doin’?’
‘Contemplating the Lord and all his infinity. What does it look like?’
He folds one hand across his chest and his fist to his face, continuing his examination.
‘Well, you’re sitting in the dark with your hand between your legs. And you look knackered. You haven’t been playing wi’ the trouser snake?’
‘In a church?’ I answer witheringly.
‘Now that you mention it, how come you haven’t already burst into flames?’
‘Right now, I wouldn’t mind being the devil. I know some bloke who needs a good smote.’ Along with someone else who needs to do some explaining.
‘I told you not to buy the beast,’ Rory says, assuming my reference was to the truck. ‘You’ve only yourself to blame.’
‘I saw Bea just now.’ God, this hurts. ‘Was that her boyfriend she was with?’
‘Aye, I think so. He must’ve gotten here early this morning.’
I blink and swallow then turn away my gaze. I can’t believe it—and I won’t.
She can’t have changed her mind.
It’s better the devil you know than the one who’s threatening to share you.
I push the insane whisper away—she raised the possibility, not me—hoping this hasn’t been a case of a fantasy becoming too real.
‘Come on. I’ve no idea what’s gotten up you, but we’re missing out on the good champagne.’
The sun has disappeared behind a bank of clouds as we cross a courtyard into the main house. Doors, steps, and worn hallways lead into what Rory calls theGreat Room.Grabbing a glass of Cristal from a waiter, I neck it back in one throw.
‘This is a christening, not a club,’ Rory grumbles. ‘Steady on.’
Without a quip or a retort, I follow him like an automaton, walking right by him as he stops and envelops Fin in his arms. I keep moving, on a mission to get to the group of friends. And the one friend I’m looking for is standing in the middle of the crowd withhim.
I don’t know whether to be thankful or annoyed that she shrugs her shoulder out from under his raised hand. The only thing I do know is the most inappropriate choice of behaviour is the one beating under the confines of my shirt.
I want to rip off the fucker’s hands. Then his head.
Actually, I’m not fussed which comes first.
But come on, let’s not turn this christening into a wake.
