“Here, I’ve found it,” Libby interrupted.
Simon turned to her. “Thanks, Piglet.”
She winced at his use of her old nickname; why had she ever put up with him calling her that? She opened the first aid box, her hands shaking, and pulled out a bottle of TCP, some cotton wool, and a plaster.
“You should clean it before you put the plaster on,” she said, thrusting the bottle at Simon.
“Would you mind doing it for me? I’m feeling a bit dizzy.”
Libby gritted her teeth, but she knew the sooner she got it done, the sooner he’d leave. She put some TCP on a piece of cotton wool, conscious of everyone watching her. When she stepped toward Simon, he closed his eyes as if waiting for a kiss. Libby took a deep breath and began to dab his cut, acutely aware of how close she was to his face and how Dylan was watching her every move.
“You’ve always been an excellent nurse,” Simon said, opening his eyes and smiling up at her. “Thank you, Libs.”
“How’s Olivia?” Libby said as she ripped open the plaster, and the smile disappeared from his face.
“She’s fine.”
“Who’s Olivia?” Esme said.
“She’s Simon’s new girlfriend,” Libby said, pressing the plaster on his cut with a little more force than was perhaps necessary. “It turns out that when he said he wasn’t ready for commitment, he just meant he wasn’t ready for it withme.”
“Libs, it wasn’t like that,” Simon said. “I know I hurt you with our breakup, but it wasn’t all my fault.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Whose fault was it, then?” There was a sharp tone to Libby’s voice, and Simon looked at her, surprised.
“You have to take some responsibility for what happened to us,” he said. “I mean, maybe if you’d taken a bit more—”
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
They were the first words Dylan had uttered since Simon arrived, and his voice was low.
“What did you say?” Simon said.
“I said, don’t you dare try and blame Libby.”
“Excuse me, but I’m not sure this is any of your business. Who the hell are you anyway?”
Dylan ignored the question. “I know guys like you. Pricks who treat women like dirt and then try and blame it on them.”
Simon let out a sharp laugh. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough to know you’re bad news.”
“Are these the friends you’re keeping now?” Simon said, turning back to Libby. “Because I’m not sure they’re the kind of people I want my child growing up around.”
“Simon, stop it,” Libby said, but he ignored her.
“I mean, I know you’ve always liked a charity case, but this is a bit much, even for you.”
“Fuck off and leave her alone,” Dylan snarled.
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re the one who needs to leave, you freak.”
There was the sudden sound of scraping chairs, and before Libby realized what was happening, both Simon and Dylan had sprung to their feet. Only Simon was so drunk that he wobbled and fell against the table, knocking a glass of red wine everywhere.
“Sit down, both of you,” Frank said sharply, but neither of them listened, their bodies straining toward each other across the table.
“Do you want to sleep with her? Is that it?” Simon spat at Dylan. “Because let me tell you, you’re barking up the wrongtree there, mate. Libby prefers her men a bit more manly, less jewelry and stupid hair.”
