Chapter 2
Rhys Strickland didn’t know if he was pleased that the stag do was taking place in Bristol so he didn’t have to travel or disappointed that it wasn’t happening somewhere further afield; he could have done with a weekend in Prague, Amsterdam or Dublin.
Anywhere really besides the city he’d thought of as home for the last fifteen years.
It was a nod to their university days, and it made sense for it to be somewhere Fabs had lived for a chunk of time in his late teens and early twenties.
They’d met in Freshers’ week and had cemented their friendship with countless nights out.
It was a long time since he’d been on a pub crawl up Whiteladies Road, drinking to excess with his university mates, who’d scattered all over the place once they’d graduated.
Whether they’d be able to recapture that optimism and ‘don’t give a shit’ attitude of youth, he wasn’t sure, but it would be good to try.
Catching his reflection in the hallway mirror, Rhys paused.
He hadn’t known what to wear for a night out like this.
A couple of drinks in the local pub with his new friendship group was his usual Friday evening, while this was a nod to the past, out with friends he hadn’t seen in a long time.
Yet his nerves were shredded because Zoe would be there: the token woman and his ex-girlfriend.
She’d always been one of the lads and as much a friend to Fabs as anyone else, so of course she’d been invited; it didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.
She’d have kicked up a fuss if she’d been left out, plus it wasn’t Fabs’s fault that things were awkward between them since she’d walked out of his life a year ago. He hadn’t seen her since.
He cast a critical eye over himself, somehow a stranger in new slim-fitting dark grey trousers, a thin summer shirt and leather loafers.
He’d worn socks, then taken them off because it was a hot and humid August day.
Now he was wondering if he was trying too hard.
To what, look cool? To look younger than his thirty-three years?
To look less like a primary school teacher and more like the sexy student he’d once been – had he ever been that next to Fabs?
He looked away from his reflection. He was being too hard on himself. He really was looking forward to a night out with his old friends, it was just his nerves were getting the better of him.
His phone lit up. The Uber was outside; he’d have to do. Pocketing his phone, he grabbed his keys and left the house.
The trouble with his ex being part of his friendship group was that while they’d both been invited to things over the past year, he’d found himself making an excuse if he knew she was going, leaving the way clear for her.
Not that he thought Zoe would be bothered if he did show up; she’d seemed to have moved on from their relationship effortlessly, but then again she was the one who’d fallen out of love and had abruptly left him.
That was if she’d ever truly been in love with him in the first place.
His thoughts spiralled throughout the taxi journey from his house in Bishopston to the harbourside.
By the time he was dropped off a short walk away from the bar, his heart was hammering and his palms sweating.
The plan was to do a reverse pub crawl, yet the itinerary was a far more sophisticated evening than they’d ever had at the age of eighteen.
Instead of starting off in upmarket Clifton and working their way down to a club in the centre, they would make their way up via a cocktail bar or two, have dinner at The Ivy and end the night with a party at Barnaby’s Clifton townhouse, while his wife and daughter were away.
Rhys stalled just before he reached No. 1 Harbourside, a bar they’d frequented as students and the only real nod to their university days.
He didn’t want to have to face big, confusing feelings, to be reminded of the past and a time when he was happy and carefree.
Not joining them would be the easy option, yet he’d come this far.
A group of lads jostled past, their drunken voices cutting over the smaller groups of giggling women dressed in tiny skirts and barely-there tops.
Rhys continued walking, following the flow of people heading beneath the covered walkway lined with bars and restaurants.
The sun glimmered on the water and everywhere was packed.
The view to Pero’s Bridge with its horn-shaped sculptures and beyond to the floating harbour was a familiar sight.
He tried to tell himself that it would be like old times, except it wasn’t.
Everything was different; he was different.
The familiar faces of his university friends gathered round a couple of tables in the bar took him back to being twenty and loving life.
Fabs stuck out for being tall, dark and easily the most handsome of the group.
When girls had flocked to him in those first few weeks of university, the rest of them had all benefitted by pulling the ones who weren’t lucky enough to attract his attention.
Although only a few months older than Rhys, Fabs had been more worldly-wise, sophisticated, charming and wealthy – not that he’d ever intentionally flaunted it – but his tastes had been far more refined than the average student’s.
He and Rhys were nothing alike and yet they’d clicked and had become best mates, managing to maintain their friendship even when Fabs had moved to London.
Fabs immediately eased Rhys’s worry by enveloping him in a thumping hug and then other friends were greeting him too: rugby player turned personal trainer Freddie, who’d been in the same halls in the first year; lawyer Barnaby, who still lived in Bristol; and another guy, Gareth, who he didn’t know as well but had been part of many a drunken night out as students.
Unsurprisingly, Zoe was hanging back. Avoiding me , Rhys thought.
He glimpsed her standing at another table in her low-cut red dress, the only woman in a sea of men.
She’d left him for a quality assurance manager job in a large construction company in Birmingham, which, from talk among their friends, had skyrocketed her career.
He should be pleased for her, but the way she’d gone about undoing their life still hurt.
He acknowledged her with a polite nod and she returned a tight smile. He didn’t owe her any more than that.
As a student, he’d happily ridden the wave of youth, relishing the freedom of escaping a small Welsh town and living it up in a city.
At least that was how he remembered it. Overthinking things had increased with age, to his detriment – precisely how he’d wound himself up into a ball of anxiety about tonight, when he should enjoy being out with friends he rarely saw and not let Zoe bother him.
Drinks were consumed down on the harbourside before they moved to a cocktail bar on Park Street.
By the time they’d walked to the White Lion in Clifton and settled on one side of the expansive terrace with views of the Clifton Suspension Bridge and the River Avon meandering through the Avon Gorge below, Rhys’s remaining uneasiness had been erased by beer, friends and plenty of reminiscing.
‘It’s been too long since I’ve been in Bristol!’ Fabs threw his arms across Rhys’s and Barnaby’s shoulders. ‘I miss you guys. Perhaps we should make this a yearly get-together.’
‘And not let so much time pass between seeing each other,’ Barnaby added. ‘I’m in.’
‘Me too.’ Rhys clamped his hand on Fabs’s shoulder. ‘Might be harder to plan once you’re married and living back in Sardinia, though.’
‘I’m sure Mirabel will be happy to come back to the UK as often as we can.’
‘Yes, for you two to see her friends and family,’ Barnaby stressed.
‘I’ll be able to escape for a couple of days; she’s laid-back like that.’
It was true, Fabs and Mirabel seemed to be the perfect match: both with striking looks, which made for an enviably beautiful couple, but they also worked effortlessly as a partnership and were friends as well as lovers.
Mirabel was as successful in her career as a talent agent as Fabs was as a sales manager in the finance industry.
He’d needed someone who knew her own mind and equalled him in confidence and independence.
Until a year ago, Rhys had been content with his career choice and having his own house that he’d grafted for; however, he couldn’t really say he was happy.
There’d been moments of happiness, but sharing his life with someone and having a happy, loving relationship seemed out of his grasp.
A bout of depression after Zoe had left had been the catalyst for making a change.
It took all of his effort to be upbeat for his classroom of children – something that felt impossible to maintain outside of work, which was why taking a sabbatical had been necessary.
Going to Sardinia for his best friend’s wedding would be the perfect way to start off in a positive way.
He didn’t have time to mull over things any further, not when Fabs bought another round of drinks and he and Barnaby re-joined some of the others at a table.
Rhys sipped his lager and was content to listen, enjoying the gentler heat as the sun slid to the horizon, the river below a silvery ribbon as it snaked through the tree-clad gorge.
Freddie returned from the bar and chose the empty seat next to Rhys.
His eyes shifted between him and his pint and he looked downright nervous, which was strange, when he was usually so ballsy, loud and a good laugh – he always had been.
When they were students, he’d effortlessly stolen all the attention, even alongside Fabs, in a way that endeared people to him.