“Don’t hang up.” He’s still laughing. “Don’t! Wait.” He sobers up, but it’s taking some work on his part. “Why is that a problem? She’s a beautiful female. You’re single and not blind.” He gasps like he just figured something out. “Unless you have cock problems.”
“I don’t have cock problems!” I growl it so loudly that the couple standing at a red light hear me, their eyes going wide.
They start laughing as I pull away.
Holy fucking shit!
“I don’t have those kinds of problems,” I tell him, under my breath even though it’s too late.
“I don’t see the issue, then.”
“I guess I’m not into her.” I shrug, even though he can’t see me.
“Back to your eyesight needing checking, Magma.”
“Can you stop, please? If you won’t pick her up, I’ll—” I start to say.
“I’ll fetch her for you.” He sighs. “You need to…” He tapers off.
“Need to what?” I ask, even though I don’t want to know the answer.
“Get a life and stop being such a pussy.”
I have a couple of choice things to say back to him, but I hold them back because he’s right. I’m one hell of a pussy.
Whatever.
I won’t take advantage of Brook. I need to tell her what’s going on. Well, some of it, anyway. She deserves as much.
“Brook came all this way for you, bro. What did you expect? She likes you. She?—”
“You know what?” I tell him. “I’ll do it. I’ll fetch her myself. You give Ridge a ride to the chapel. I’ll meet you both there.”
“Wait, what? Are you sure?” he asks. For someone who just gave me so much shit, he sounds concerned.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m not being fair. I need to sort out my own shit and not run from it.”
“You know what, Magma?”
“What?” I bark because I have a feeling I’m not going to like what he says.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Fuck off!” I snarl, but I’m smiling.
He starts laughing, and I put the phone down, shaking my head. I’m smiling too, but it soon dies.
42
Carla
The house smells like hairspray, perfume and extreme excitement.
The three of us are crammed into Robyn’s bedroom, half getting ready and half getting in each other’s way, which is how this is supposed to work.
Cath sits cross-legged on the end of the bed in her robe, scrolling through her phone, one bare foot bouncing. I’m curled into the armchair by the window in my own robe, a soft cream color Robyn picked out for all three of us as a getting-ready gift. My hair is already curled into loose waves, and my face is done, soft and warm around the eyes, my lips a color Cath picked out this morning that she swears photographs better than anything I’d have chosen myself.
It’s a shade we don’t get on Draig. It must be from the Mainland. I must say, it looks good. My cheeks are highlighted, and my eyes look huge.
