17
After a delay in our train journey due to a cow being on the track (obviously), we barely have time to stop. My parents aren’t around when we get into the house, thank God, so I don’t have to do the whole awkward ‘hey, this is Miles, we’re totally dating, and totally not using each other to fake a happy couple-y life, okay???’ introductions. Just another worry I can save for tomorrow.
We both change quickly; me pulling on a floaty dress and cowboy boots (yes, I do want to live in a cowboy romance, okay), Miles in a soft white shirt, and then we’re back out into the only taxi in town to get to the pub on time.
Tilda and Dan are waiting for us in our local, and I know I’m going to have to do the whole awkward, ‘hey this is Miles’ thing, and I’m overthinking it so much that by the time we are standing opposite the bride and groom-to-be, I must totally glitch. Miles must notice because he does it for me and isn’t one ounce as awkward as I would have been.
“Hey, you must be the bride and groom,” he says, smiling and sticking out his hand to Tilda, “I’m Miles, Delaney’s boyfriend, ”
The word boyfriend rolls off his tongue in a way I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to mimic. It’s probably a good thing he did the introductions.
Tilda, her long blonde hair curling around her shoulders and blue eyes wide, sticks out her hand, “Hey, yeah, Tilda,” she says, looking between us like something cataclysmic has happened, though I’m not sure what.
Miles shakes her hand and then grasps Dan’s, grinning, “Nice to meet you guys, I’ve heard a lot about you,”
Tilda grins evilly at me, “That’s funny, I’ve barely heard anything about you, Miles. It’s as if Delaney is keeping you a secret,
Well, Tilda, he’s not actually my boyfriend, he’s just some guy I met at a party. Wouldn’t have needed him if your almost-husband could pick better friends, but here we are.
I narrow my eyes at her, “Not a secret, Til,” I say, “Just private,”
“From your best friend?” she asks, feigning hurt.
I roll my eyes, “Where are we sitting?” I ask, changing the subject and looking around the crowded pub.
She leads us over to the back corner, next to the fireplace which is, thankfully, not lit. It’s already boiling in here, and I’m about to get grilled to within an inch of my life. I don’t need any more reason to sweat, thank you very much.
Miles, the ultimate gentleman, goes and grabs the first round and I suddenly feel guilty. I mean, I am the reason he’s had to pay for trains and stuff already. At least his date is in London, though it is at the Ritz—I might look into payday loans…
I look at Tilda who is still grinning like a fucking Cheshire cat, and roll my eyes again.
“What?” I ask, knowing that my oldest friend is a master interrogator and that what’s coming next is going to SUCK.
She shrugs, looks at Dan, and then back to me, “I’m just shocked,” she says, “Firstly, that you actually brought him. I mean, I thought you’d suddenly change your mind about introducing him to your family at the last moment. And secondly, that you like someone enough to bring to a wedding,”
Part of me had considered telling Tilda the truth, but our relationship has never been like my relationship with Emme. I know Tilda is there for me and will always be. She’ll also always be a staunch supporter of any scheme that gets back at Caleb — she took his betrayal harder than I did, I think. But there’s something about friends you make as an adult. It’s as if they will always know you better. Tilda has too much on me already, years and years of it, in fact. Our mums were, and still are best friends, so we were raised like sisters. She knew me as a kid, as an awkward tween, and as every version of myself that I was between the ages of 0 and 18. I guess, the version of me she knows is the one she grew up with, not the one I am now .
It’s not that Emme is a better friend or anything, we just became close during really formative years when we were working out who we were. Away from home for the first time, relying on each other for support that we would usually have gotten from our family. It’s different. And it means that while Emme keeps sending me tips on how to really sell something fake, Tilda is like the first customer I’m trying it out on.
Do I feel guilty for lying to her? Kind of. But if I had told her the truth, she’d just have done that whole pity thing where she told me I didn’t need a man and that it was Caleb’s loss, which is true, I’m just not sure anyone else at the wedding agrees. It’s also a bit rich of someone who has been in a relationship since puberty to say you don’t need a man…
So, I didn’t tell her. But the problem with that is that she knows me so well, I’m pretty sure she can tell I’m lying. So, to avoid her being suspicious, I continue weaving.
“Honestly,” I say, “It’s only in the past month or so that I’ve gotten there. Before, we were super casual,”
Mixing truth with lies was Emme’s idea, obviously. She said it would be more believable if we ran with the idea of only getting serious a month ago — you know when we actually met.
Tilda raises an eyebrow, “Like, casual sex?” she says, scrunching her nose up in the way that long-time monogamous people do at the thought of anyone having sex casually.
I snort, “Casually dating, Til,”
“What is casual dating?” she asks, looking at Dan who looks equally puzzled.
I roll my eyes again, “I know that it is wildly confusing to someone who’s been in a relationship since they could walk, but we single people do this thing where we go out for dinner a few times and don’t propose. It’s called casual dating,” I explain.
Tilda and Dan are good people, but they’re a happy couple and happy couples do not get stuff that single people do.
Tilda rolls her eyes, “Hey, you used to be in one of those relationships too,”
I laugh, “Shame the other half of that couple didn’t take it as seriously,”
Dan winces, I mean, he and Caleb are still close, much to Tilda’s chagrin. “You know he feels horrible about it all,”
I do sometimes want to shake Dan and ask him why he is still friends with Caleb the human turd, but I know it’s not fair to do that. It is also not fair of Dan to try and change how I feel about a guy who had a year-long affair. Just saying.
I snort really loudly, “Oh sure,” I say, “So terrible he’s been with his side piece for almost as long as he was with me,”
Dan frowns, “Good point,” he says, “I’ll amend. I feel horrible that my best friend treated you that way,”
“Yeah,” says Tilda, “And that I refuse to spend time with him or go out on double dates with him and his side piece,”
I raise an eyebrow, “My mother informed me you actually spend so much time with her she thought you might ask her to be bridesmaid, rather than me,” I say, grinning. Part of me would be incredibly upset to find out this was true, but there is a bigger part of me that knows Tilda wouldn’t do that to me.
Tilda and Dan look at each other and then burst out laughing.
“I have to carry her out the door kicking and screaming if we’re going anywhere that Nicole is going to be,” Dan says.
“I’m obviously just exceptionally good at acting like I like her,” Tilda says, and then she adds, “I would say I can’t believe your mum said that but I’ve known Eloise Morrison for too long not to know she has no fucking filter,”
I want to ask why Tilda is even acting like she likes Nicole, but I know that would be petty. She does have to spend time around her after all. And I should probably care more that my mum seems to like Nicole more than me, to be honest.
“Does Miles know it all?” Dan asks, glancing at Miles who is now carrying a tray of drinks back to us. I watch him balance the tray with ease, those bartending skills clearly come in useful. As is usual when Miles goes anywhere, furtive looks follow him and I want to stand up and shout when one girl brazenly winks at him. He’s sort of mine, lady.
I nod, “Of course,” I say, looking back at Dan in an effort not to become possessive about my fake boyfriend, “I’m not going to drop him into a lion’s den without proper prep,”
Dan nods as Miles reaches the table. He passes out drinks and then sits.
“We were just discussing Delaney’s ex, Miles. You must be excited to meet him,” Tilda says with a grin.
I look at her, mouth open, “Have you been taking lessons from my mother?” I ask her, annoyed because I really don’t know where she’s going with this.
Tilda frowns, “What do you mean?”
“No fucking filter,” I mutter.
She snorts and then turns back to Miles.
Miles grins, “I am fully briefed and prepared,” he says and then he glances at Dan, “No offence, mate, your best man sounds like a tool,”
A shit-eating grin, the kind that takes over your face and won’t stop, pulls my cheeks and Tilda bursts out laughing. I think that I might love Miles. He’s the absolute best fake boyfriend and I am not even annoyed at him. At least someone fucking said it.
Dan shakes his head, smiling, “Oh, I know,” he says, “Would you believe me if I told you that in all other areas of his life, he’s a pretty decent guy?”
I snort, and Miles shakes his head, “I can’t believe that a guy who would cheat on Del is decent, but I’ll try,”
“You don’t have to,” I mutter to him. He smiles down at me and winks.
Dan shakes his head at me, and then nods back at Miles, “That’s enough for me,” he says, “So, Miles, what do you do?”
“Yeah, Delaney told me you’re a florist but that was obviously a joke,” Tilda adds, running her eyes over his unruly hair, tattoos, and facial piercings.
I burst out laughing, “I told you no one would believe you,”
Miles shakes his head, sitting back and draping an arm over the back of my chair. I nuzzle into it, involuntarily, remembering a time when the four of us used to sit here together and Caleb would do that to me.
Stupid fucking memory.
“Did you tell them to say that?” Miles asks, grinning at me.
I shake my head, “I told you; biker, maybe a model, definitely a drug dealer, never a florist,” I say, meeting his eyes and smiling .
Tilda frowns, “So, are you a florist?” she asks, looking between us like we’re playing a practical joke.
Miles nods, “I am, but when I first met Del she thought I was lying. She actually accused me of being a drug dealer for a while, even Urban Dictionary’d it, I believe,” he says, smirking at me.
Tilda snorts, “You don’t look like a florist,”
Miles grins, “I know,” he says, “Del has told me, over and over and over,”
Tilda and Dan laugh, “You, Miles Stuart, are an enigma,” Tilda says.
*
It’s only when the bell for the last orders rings that I realise how easy this entire evening has been. Miles is so good at this, it’s like he genuinely wants to be here, chatting with my friends. He’s asking them all the right questions, and they’re laughing at his jokes.
“Okay, I’ve got to pee if I’m somehow going to squeeze another pint in,” Tilda says, standing and dragging me up with her, “We still pee together, I don’t care if I’m marrying someone else soon,”
I snort and then allow myself to be dragged with her.
I am washing my hands at the sink when Tilda sidles up to me, grinning, “You really like him, don’t you?”
I grin, unbelievably proud of my acting abilities, “Yeah, I guess I do,” I say. It’s not a total lie, which is probably why Tilda believes me so thoroughly. Miles is a great guy, and I’m sure after this is over, he’s going to make some incredibly cool girl with a French bob and immaculate winged eyeliner very, very happy.
Tilda grins back at me, “I can tell,” she says, “You’re so in sync. And the way he looks at you, man,”
I frown, looking at her in the mirror, “How does he look at me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Tilda rolls her eyes, “You gonna make me say it? Just wanna boast about your rom-com romance a little more?” she says, shaking her head at me.
I laugh, “Says the girl who is marrying her lifelong love in two days,” I retort, rolling my eyes right back at her.
“No, it’s so different seeing it from the outside,” she says, “I never saw you and Caleb like this. The way you and Miles move around each other, it’s like you were made for each other. You fill each other’s negative space so well. And, Delaney, oh man, when he looks at you, God it’s like he can’t see a single other thing because the light of you is so bright,”
“How poetic of you,” I say, “Have you been reading romance novels by firelight?”
“Yes, actually. Dan’s Mum lent me her copy of Anna Karenina ,”
“You’re reading Anna Karenina ?” I ask, incredulous that my oldest friend who has never read anything longer than a magazine is now delving into Russian literature.
She nods, “Yes,” she says as though it’s not weird at all, “And there is that quote, the one about sunshine and seeing someone like sunshine. I took a picture of it, and it reminds me of how Miles looks at you,”
“Oh,” I say, “‘He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.’ I always fucking loved that quote,” I say.
Tilda shakes her head at me, her mouth agape, “Your brain, Dellie,” she says, using the nickname she used to when we were kids, “How did you just quote fucking Russian literature at me when you’re halfway off your tits?”
“You thought of it too,” I say, but she ignores me. I don’t admit to her that I know that quote by heart because when I read it, it stuck with me so much that I had to sit back for a moment to take it in. I highlighted it, even in my special edition of Anna Karenina , and wondered when I would experience a love like that. Yes, even while I was in a relationship with Caleb. So, I guess that’s telling.
“Anyway, yes, Miles looks at you like the sun, beautiful quote. Top marks, ten out of ten,” she says, “That English Literature degree comes in handy sometimes,” she adds, patting my head like I’m a dog.
I shake my head at her, “I think that’s the first time it has, ”
She grins and then grabs my hand, “Come on,” she says, “Let’s go get back to your absolute hunk of a new man,” she says, dragging me from the bathroom and back into the stifling pub.
We’re weaving our way through the very crowded space and I can see Dan and Miles chatting and laughing. That man clearly wins everyone over.
“The one thing I will say,” says Tilda, as we wait for a group of people to get past us, “Miles isn’t exactly your type looks-wise, is he? I mean, I can see why you thought he might be in a biker gang,”
I snort, “I think he’s my fantasy type,” I say, noting that she’s probably getting at the fact that Miles is so far out of my league it’s painful. She knows I am the least cool person on the planet, and Miles is quite obviously the coolest.
Tilda frowns, “I suppose, you have always had a thing for Jason Momoa,” she says.
I grin, “Yeah, I just never thought someone like that would look twice at someone like me,” I say, acting like a girl who actually has a boyfriend as hot as Miles.
Tilda turns to me then, “Stop that,” she says, “We have moved on from this. You had stopped feeling like you weren’t worth something. You know, if I didn’t want to avoid being a huge bridezilla, I would have banned Caleb fucking Locke from my wedding. I hate what he did to you and that it still affects you, ”
“In fairness, Til, I was also always pretty shocked that Caleb liked me,” I admit. It’s not a lie. Caleb was fucking cool too. In an extremely different way to Miles and mostly because he was popular and attractive at fourteen and I was gangly and ginger and I could not for the life of me believe he had picked me. ME. The girl who couldn’t work out how to put mascara on and not get it all over her eyelids. (For the record, I still don’t know how to do that, but I’ve learned how to do a smokey eye so we are all good.)
Tilda pulls a disgusted face, “Why?” she asks, incredulous, “It’s not like everyone who knew you guys didn’t know for a fact that he was punching so far above his weight he should have had to carry you around on his shoulders every single day,”
I snort, “I don’t think that’s true. And, if he was punching so much, why did he cheat?” I counter. Because I, personally, think this is a valid point. Everyone in my life keeps telling me that it’s his issues, he’s the problem, blah, blah, blah—but, I don’t believe he would have cheated if he were happy with me. He chose someone else, and therefore, I wasn’t enough. This is an entirely logical assumption that everyone seems to think is me putting myself down. And yes, that’s part of it, but logically it makes sense too.
“Because he’s a weak little man, too afraid of a strong and empowered female and too dumb to realise you wouldn’t have looked anywhere else. He forgot that one of your most beautiful traits is that you’re fiercely fucking loyal, and it’s what makes you such a fucking prize, Dellie,”
“You’re so drunk, Til,” I mutter, my cheeks heating as Tilda looks on at me with such pride I want to weep. I might wholeheartedly disagree with her, but having someone love you as much as Tilda does when she is drunk is a pretty great feeling.
“So fucking modest too,” she calls as she turns and begins dragging me back toward the table now that the crowds have dispersed.