Chapter 22 Christopher
Friday
Istare at the blank page before me, struggling to find the words to write down all I want to say about Kelly and Daniel. If Dad were still alive, I wouldn’t have to worry about all of this. I wouldn’t have to walk her down the aisle, or give the obligatory father of the bride speech.
I could have just kicked back and enjoyed the wedding, without all the stress that’s now resting on my shoulders. The various tabs open on my browser, pulled up while searching How to write a wedding speech, have offered me absolutely no help whatsoever.
Make it witty.
Make it personal.
Use anecdotes.
No shit, Sherlock. I even attempted to use ChatGPT to write the speech for me, but it came out with something so nauseating and disingenuous that I just wanted to throw my laptop at the wall and hide under the covers.
The meeting invitation I received from Pietro this morning hasn’t helped. The subject line reads Brewed Meeting Follow-up. It’s set for Monday. Less than twenty-four hours after I land in LA.
Even worse, there’s a name on the invite that I don’t recognize, though a quick search on LinkedIn revealed her to be a HR representative for the company. Great.
All of this is taking up unnecessary headspace when I just need to get this speech written and done with. It also didn’t help that Paul was berating Alexander about me being in the background of his livestream earlier.
It took everything within me to temper my anger and not snatch the phone from Alexander’s hands, to not give Paul what for. Alexander’s a fully grown adult after all, and it wasn’t like you could actually make out who I was.
Thankfully, Alexander seemed fully equipped to handle Paul.
He defended me and actually called Paul out on having to hide his sexuality.
Part of me was proud of him for standing up for himself, but the other part was petrified.
I’ve now seen the abuse thrown at Rita over the mere speculation that she and Alexander are dating.
His fans and trolls have torn every part of her to shreds, from her looks, to what she wears, to her career. I don’t think I could handle that. It’s even making me question whether I made a mistake last night in saying I’d be Alexander’s boyfriend.
But then I remember how happy I felt today being with him.
Waking up next to him. The way he reached for my hand and held it as we walked down the street to get brunch when no one was around.
How he fed me some of his avocado toast, and laughed when I spat some out because the hot sauce hit the back of my throat.
Then he tried to convince me to join him in the toilet, not just to clean up the mess on the hoodie, but to make our own mess.
Alexander lifting my chin up to kiss me goodbye when the car pulled up at my sister’s apartment to pick him up and take him to the O2. I haven’t felt like this since Ryan, and maybe not even then.
The ping of my phone distracts me, and I reach for it, seeing a message from Stephen pop up.
Stephen
Cheeky drink or three in Soho later, before I head to Ireland and your sister’s big day tomorrow?
I could really murder a drink or three right now, and if I don’t see Stephen tonight, I won’t see him again before I return to LA. But I need to get this speech nailed. Plus, I’ve got that bloody dinner.
I’d love to but I’ve got the welcome dinner at the hotel my mum’s insisted on doing tonight.
Stephen
Well, if you get bored, or finish early, we’ll likely be in Circa. X
I guess if the dinner ends at ten, and Alexander said he won’t be back until midnight, I could pop into Soho for one drink, maybe two.
Right. No more distractions. I throw my phone down on the table, pick the pen up and return to the pad. I write Wedding Speech at the top of the page and underline it twice.
Maybe I’ll start with the time three-year-old Kelly decided to marry her rabbit.
I flick the pen up and down between my index and middle finger.
A ring of the doorbell, followed quickly by a knock, distracts me and instantly makes my blood boil.
Ugh.
Can’t housekeeping see the Do Not Disturb light that I left on for them?
“One sec,” I say, swinging my legs around and heading toward the door.
“Oh, thank God,” Kelly says, immediately pushing past me. “Mum’s driving me insane already and we haven’t even gotten to the rehearsal dinner yet.” Her cheeks are red and she’s clearly flustered as she pulls her hair up, removes the hairband from her wrist, and ties her hair into a ponytail.
“Don’t mind me, I was just thinking my personal space felt too respected.” I close the door behind me and make my way back into the room. Kelly puts her hands on top of her running shorts, pursing her lips. She’s unimpressed and unamused.
“Why do you think I avoid her like the plague?” I ask, as she heads to the window.
“It’s a lot easier for you to do when you live on the other side of the world. I’m stuck here with her. It’s like she’s got nothing better to do than sit around and complain.” Kelly pulls at the curtains to look out at the road below before turning her attention back to me.
Shots fired.
I clutch my chest, pretending to be hit, and fall to the bed, laughing at her.
“It’s not funny, Chris.” She kicks my leg as she rolls her eyes.
“Well, where is she now?” I push myself back up.
“Where do you think?” Her hand returns to her hip as she heads to the desk.
Of course. The bar.
She’s likely with other members of the family, downing a drink or three.
“You still haven’t written your wedding speech?” She lifts up the pad and waves it at me, her head cocked to one side.
“Well, as you might have seen, I’ve had other issues to contend with, you know… work… Alexander.” Irritation flickers across my skin.
The last thing I need right now is Kelly critiquing me.
I don’t want her to add herself to my rolodex of misery. It’s already overflowing with people: Pietro, Tony, Mum, Paul, Ryan, and countless others.
“Did I hear Alexander shout that he was your boyfriend last night?” she asks, putting the pad back down. She turns the chair round to face me and sits down.
My heart jumps again, like a kid in a playground with a skipping rope, at hearing Kelly say the word boyfriend. I’m barely getting used to it myself, and the thought that I’m actually back in a relationship after nearly four years.
“Yes,” I say, feeling my cheeks redden.
“Oh my God. Chris. That’s amazing!” Kelly leaps toward me, knocking me back against the bed as she squeezes me tightly. “Wait,” she says, rolling off me. “Does that mean I need to make an extra space for him at the wedding?”
“You know that can’t happen.” My heart sinks faster than Rose dropping the Heart of the Ocean back down to the Titanic.
How lovely it would be to have him sit next to me at the wedding.
To dance with him on the dance floor.
And this, of course, is the reality I now face.
That we as a couple will never exist outside of the confines of four walls and places where Alexander can go unnoticed. Kelly’s thumbs twiddle away in her lap, her upside-down smile reaffirming my painful reality.
“Let’s get out of here,” she says, whacking my knee as she rises out of the chair.
“The room?”
“No, let's go for a run. The weather’s nice and Regent’s Park is just behind the hotel. Plus, I need to shift the last couple of pounds, and I don’t dare go to the gym, in case any of the other family members are there.”
I’m already regretting agreeing to Kelly’s idea.
I’m absolutely cream-crackered from the lack of sleep and I can barely keep up with Kelly’s pace.
“Come on, pigeon belly,” she shouts back at me.
“Fuck off, fatso,” I shout back.
She extends her middle finger as I attempt to chase after her round the pond. The ducks waddling along the bank get in my way, and Kelly worms her way between a group of Chinese tourists queuing up to get into the paddle boats.
I swear she was a ninja in a previous life. Either that or an assassin, such is her ruthlessness and ability to duck and dive, avoiding anything and everything that confronts her. It’s a skill I’ve only half managed to perfect when it comes to communication.
The sight of the ice cream van offers a welcome relief. Kelly stops a few yards in front of me, and I rest my hands on my knees, bending over to catch my breath.
I really should have spent more time on the treadmill this week.
The sweat drips from my pink Nike top and forms a small puddle underneath me.
“What do you fancy?” I ask, turning to Kelly once I’ve caught my breath.
“I better not,” she says, tightening her ponytail.
“Come on, we’ve earned it,” I say, snaking my arm over her and moving into the queue.
I take in the list of options on the side of the van. The man in front of us, currently getting two cones from the vendor, looks remarkably like our father.
“What will it be?” the vendor asks, leaning forward.
“I’ll take the screwball,” I say, looking at Kelly.
“I’ll have a lemon ice lolly.”
The vendor nods and head to the back of the van to retrieve our selections.
“Did you just see that guy?” My head nods over Kelly’s shoulder, forcing her to turn.
“What guy?”
I point out the guy who was in front of us, now walking along with his jumper tied over his shoulders and holding hands with a woman wearing a straw hat and blue summer dress.
“That one over there. I had to do a double take. He looks exactly like Dad did when we were kids.”
Kelly raises a hand over her eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun as she squints to get a better look.
“I can’t see,” Kelly says, turning back and reaching for the ice lolly as the man hands over our order. I pull out a ten-pound note and tell him to keep the change.
“Do you miss him?” Kelly asks as we begin to walk away.
“I just left him two hours ago,” I say, using the plastic spoon to scoop up the ice cream.
“Not Alexander. Dad.” Kelly shakes her head as she tears off the wrapper and takes a lick of her lolly.
“Oh.”