Chapter 18 Nate
NATE
“Why are weddings so boring?” I whisper to Evan, placing my napkin over my knee as we’re served our mains.
Nora swats at my thigh under the table.
My whisper clearly loud enough for her to hear.
Evan glares at me behind his glass of sparkling water. “Try being sober.”
A grin spreads across my face as I lift my champagne glass. “Sorry, mate.”
“No, you’re not.” His lips lift at the corner. He’s not mad about not drinking. Not really. He’s never been a huge drinker despite being the more outgoing of the two of us.
“How come you’re not drinking, pal?” Jamie asks from across the round table. He leans to the left so he can talk to us without the huge bouquet and candelabra centrepiece in the way. His wide smile is still the same laddish grin he had in school.
Evan shrugs. “I’m driving.”
Jamie’s wife, Mel, says, “You could have booked a room here or got a taxi.”
It’s true we could have all shared a taxi home, but Nora was adamant she wasn’t drinking and didn’t want to waste money when we will need to buy baby things.
My breath stutters.
The baby.
Amazing how one tiny thing can change our whole life. And it’s not even here yet. Probably not even created yet. Though Nora’s never been happier.
I lean back in my chair, ignoring the conversation with Evan, Jamie, and his wife, stretch my arm across the back of Nora’s chair covered in silk with a lilac organza bow, and admire the woman at my side.
Nora slides her hand over my thigh under the tablecloth while nodding politely at her friend next to her.
I say friend in the loosest possible way.
They haven’t hung out much since Cara became a mother.
She’s now cooking her third kid, her pregnant belly the size of a football under her tight-fitting dress.
“This little one likes champagne.” Cara rubs her round stomach with a giggle. “Pity I can only have one small glass.”
Nora politely smiles, but removes her hand from my thigh and fists the fabric of her dress near her own stomach. I know it’s like a knife stabbing her in the gut, just like it is me.
I let my fingers graze up and down the bare skin on her arm where her dress hangs over her shoulder, and with my other hand, I take hold of hers, untangling her fingers from her dress and letting her cling to me instead.
Another knife twists in my gut, knowing I’m the cause of her pain. I should have been able to provide for her long before now. We should be on our third kid, like Cara and Glen. They were married the same year we were.
Glen leans over Cara, pointing his champagne flute our way. “Isn’t it about time you two had a kid?”
Here we fucking go.
Nora’s nails dig into my palm under the table. “It’ll happen when it happens.” She smiles politely, then traces the knife handle with her fingertip.
“You sure you’re doing it right, Harrison?”
“I don’t know, Glen. Why don’t you ask your mother?”
Jamie laughs.
My leg shakes under the table as I tap my foot. Nora didn’t want to come today, and I can’t blame her. Every time we’re out with our old so-called friends, it’s always the same.
“What about you, Ev? Isn’t it about time you settled down?” Jamie says.
Evan shrugs. “Why, so I can be as boring as you?”
“He got you there, man,” Glen says.
“I haven’t found the right person yet. What’s the rush?” Evan lifts his glass of water again and takes a sip.
“I know a few single girls here tonight,” Mel says.
Evan glances my way, a red hue creeping up his cheeks.
Jamie pokes his head out from around the table centrepiece. “Maybe it’s not a girl he’s after.”
“Fuck off, Jamie.” Evan rolls his eyes and places his water back on the table, but it topples over, spilling onto the white tablecloth. “Shit.”
I pull my napkin from my lap and mop up the water running towards me. “Don’t worry. I got it.”
Glen wipes his mouth with his napkin and leans back in his chair. “So,” he says, loud enough for half the table to hear. “You two still play rugby?”
I chuckle to myself. “Does it look like I still play rugby?”
Jamie lifts his drink. “A lot of the rugby lads have let themselves go, Nate. You won’t look out of place.”
“Haha. Hilarious.” I point my fork at him. “I could still take you.”
Jamie grins. “You’d pull a hamstring putting your boots on.”
Evan snorts into his water. “He’d pull a hamstring just thinking about sprinting.”
I glare at him. “Traitor.”
Glen chuckles. “We’re short on Sunday with the groom off on honeymoon. Could do with a couple of bodies. It’d be like old times.”
Jamie nods. “Yeah, come down. Blow the cobwebs off. Few pints after. Same as always.”
“We could.” Evan tilts his head towards me. “You wanna go?”
I’m about to say no—because the thought of running makes my knees ache—but then Glen’s smug face irritates me.
“Do you two wipe each other’s arse as well?” Jamie says.
Glen snorts into his pint. “They do everything else together, mate.”
The table goes quiet. Evan’s smile falters. He straightens, jaw clenching.
I lean back in my chair with a smirk of my own. “Yeah, we do. And Sunday, we’ll be carrying you just like old times.”
Jamie chokes on a laugh.
Evan’s head snaps to me, eyes wide. “You’re going to rugby?”
I shrug as if it’s nothing. “Sunday, yeah? What time?”
Jamie rubs his hands together. “We meet 10:30 for an 11:00 a.m. start, down at the rec.”
I force a grin and lift my glass with a nod. “We’ll be there.”
Glen’s face lights up, pleased with himself again. “Don’t be late.”
Evan’s knee knocks mine under the table, his brow wrinkling as if to say WTF.
I haven’t played rugby in years, probably not since uni, and I can’t remember the last time I went to the gym, but if it wipes that smug smile off goofy Glen’s face, then so be it. Agreeing to rugby is better than knocking his teeth out.
Mel changes the subject, talking across the table. “So how’s the kids, Cara? Are they excited about a new baby brother?”
Cara rubs her stomach again. “So excited. The girls can’t wait. Glen went and bought them both boy dolls last week, and Elsa hasn’t stopped mothering them. They’re going to be such good helpers when he arrives.”
“Awe, that’s so sweet,” Mel says, pulling out her phone.
I brace myself for the fucking photo gallery.
“Our son mothers our baby, Belle.” Mel shows us all a picture of her toddler cuddling his baby sister, Belle.
Sounds like a fucking cheese. And what’s with all the Disney princess names? Life isn’t a fucking fairytale.
“She’s so cute.” Nora smiles at the screen as she passes the phone to Cara, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, nor does she look at it for longer than a second.
Cara opens her purse and pulls out her phone. The girls pass it around, sharing photos and bragging about their kids’ milestones.
It’s a fucking pissing contest for who has the cleverest kid, like they’re all raising the next Einstein.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take and wish they would just bring dessert out already and get the speeches over with so I can get drunk in a corner somewhere. Alone.
Nora’s eyes have glazed over. Her fingertip traces the pattern on her spoon handle.
I lean in and kiss the side of her head. “You’re gonna wear the silver off the cutlery if you keep rubbing it like that.”
Her gaze snaps up to mine, eyes watery as if she’s been holding back tears.
Fuck. I place my thumb and finger under her chin and bring her lips to mine, hoping I can take her mind off everything while the women continue to talk about their kids.
I kiss her jaw and whisper, “Don’t worry.
It will be us soon enough. And we’ll be able to bore the fuck out of them with our camera roll. ”
A small laugh bursts through the sadness as she whispers back, “But will our baby be able to write its own name by two?”
I quirk my lips. “Probably not with Evan’s dyslexia, but who gives a fuck?”
Nora smiles, this one genuine, with a sparkle in her watery gaze.
“What you saying about my dyslexia?” Evan says.
I pat him on the back. “Nothing, mate, just laughing about that time you designed those wedding car brochures and when they were printed it said, For your spacial day.” I can’t stop the laugh rumbling out of me.
Evan winces. “Please don’t remind me.”
Despite losing money and having to reprint the brochures, it still makes me laugh to this day. “Or that time we printed those menus, and they were serving chocolate mouse.”
Nora’s laughing now. My chest inflates seeing her happy again after she was dying inside.
“Evan, does Nate know about the Lakehouse Grill mistake?” Nora says with a smile behind her hand.
I straighten in my seat. “Oh shit. What now?”
“It’s okay. Cal corrected it before we did the presentation.” Evan drops his head into his hands, his cheeks flaming hot.
“On one of the visuals it said Freshly Killed Steaks instead of grilled.” Nora reaches over me and pokes Evan. “Tell him, notebook.” She smiles at Evan, and it warms my heart how the two of them interact. “Cal thought they were carving up cows out back on the field.”
“Enough now, doodles. You’ve had your fun.”
I fling an arm around Evan and pat his back. “Don’t worry, mate. You’ll be fine. Just don’t tell them you’re the one doing their branding.”
Evan huffs. “It was my bloody autocorrect. I’m not taking the blame for that.”
“Was the sign that said Pubic Parking autocorrect as well?” I chuckle to myself.
Jamie lets out a loud laugh from across the table. “Pubic Parking. You three crack me up.”
“Cheers,” Evan deadpans.
Jamie lifts his drink, grinning. “I mean it. You’re like a little family unit. Nate and Nora, and then Evan as the spare husband.”
Glen adds, “That’s why he’s still single. He’s married to these two.”
My stomach tightens.
Evan’s smile falters for half a second. He thinks nobody noticed, but I catch everything where he’s concerned.
Nora laughs off their jokes, her finger tracing the outline of the cutlery. “Spare husband?” She huffs.
Jamie shrugs. “You know what I mean. He’s always around. Might as well put a ring on him too.”
I lift my champagne glass with a grin I don’t fully feel. “He already eats us out of house and home.”
Evan snorts. “It’s not my fault Nora’s a great cook.”
Nora’s fingers brush my thigh again under the table, her hand trembling as if she’s worried they know our secret.
Then the server sets a chocolate mousse with strawberries in front of me. “Ooh, Ev. Your favourite.”
He pulls his eyebrows together, examining his own dessert.
I squeeze his shoulder and whisper. “Chocolate mouse.”
He rolls his eyes and elbows me in the ribs. “I think you need to slow down on the drinks.”
“And I think you need to relax.” I let my hand slide down his spine and gaze at my wife already tucking into the dessert.
These two are what matters most in the world and I couldn’t give a shit about the rest of the table or what they think, but deep down I know that’s not entirely true or I wouldn’t be pouring another glass of champagne to numb all the ways I failed as a husband.