Chapter 28
Aiden
It should have taken five minutes max to drive from Owen Bosley and Mathias Jones’s wedding ceremony to the reception venue. According to Google Maps, there’s one road from Hookborough Town Hall to Mudford-upon-Hooke where the party’s being held. One road.
Five minutes has somehow turned into thirty, and a lovely, scenic, straightforward journey has become the most awkward half an hour of my life.
Eggo is officially a terrible driver. How a person can get lost three times on a single A road with only a handful of junctions is beyond me.
On top of that, Georgia insisted on accompanying me as my plus-one and said we should pretend we’re still in love as ever, even though she hasn’t spoken to me since the cafe meet-up last month.
However, the cherry on the cake is a pissed as fuck Abs, who’s being dragged against his will to his ex-boyfriend’s mansion where the wedding breakfast will take place.
He’s positioned himself on the back seat between Georgia and me, probably to stop us getting too coupley or kissy, but I’m eternally grateful for the buffer.
Just as she’d asked, I’ve told no one about our half breakup, not even Eggo.
To rid myself of the temptation—of telling him or fucking him—I’ve simply avoided him.
I’ve made excuses post-training to run off quickly, cancelled meet-ups, and even texted him the morning of our home game to say Trekkie had the shits all over my kitchen floor so I wouldn’t make the lice room that day.
But I have to tell him at some point. It’s eating me alive, and . . . I miss him.
I miss him so fucking much.
Abs and I have been hanging out a lot more recently, which is nice.
It’s been fun, I guess. We’ve taken Trekkie to the park, we’ve had beers at his place, and we’ve gone to see a few live bands.
It’s just that . . . Abs can be such a miserable fucker.
Which is also fine. That’s who he is. I’ve known it since day one of our friendship, yet sometimes it all feels so meh, like I’m trapped in this vortex of mehness.
I love Georgia—or maybe I don’t any more—but this can’t go on as it is.
Finally, we arrive at Hooke Manor. Abs and his ex-boyfriend not-boyfriend haven’t spoken to each other since the August bank holiday of last year, about eight months ago, and Harry’s still very sour about the entire thing.
Eggo and I are on high security alert to make sure the kids don’t start brawling in the middle of the marquee.
It’s all going smoothly until we check out the seating plan and have to take our places for the wedding breakfast. Which is not breakfast at all, but a full-on evening meal.
Eggo and Megan have been seated at a separate table from me, but he’s directly in my line of sight, and I am in his.
It’s impossible not to glance at him every twenty seconds.
He’s wearing his fancy post-match suit, and a brand new black shirt and dickie bow tie.
He’s trimmed his beard and had a haircut, and he looks so smart and handsome that even James Bond himself would willingly relinquish his most suave gentleman of the century award.
“You’re looking at him again,” Georgia hisses.
“Well, switch seats with me, then.” I’ve already tried to deny it, tried to keep my eyes firmly on my no doubt soon to be ex-girlfriend or my food, but any time I’m not looking at him it feels like I’m depriving myself of something I need to live.
When I was a kid, I used to put my head under my bed covers, using up all the oxygen then panicking until I’d throw the doona off and suck in a lungful of fresh air.
That’s what not looking at him then looking at him feels like. It’s like I can breathe again.
And I don’t fucking know what to do with that information.
Georgia shakes her head and closes her eyes, as though she’s praying for patience. I can’t say I blame her. She wanted to see if we could make believe that things were all okay, at least until the end of her master’s degree, but at this point I think the world must understand that it’s over.
But I got myself into this mess, I don’t deserve to be mollycoddled out of it.
After the food, it’s time for speeches. Owen taps a knife against his glass, and the room goes quiet, save for the scraping of chairs as people reposition themselves for better viewing.
“I’m going to start my speech with a short story about the first time I ever met Mathias,” Owen says.
“Now, you all know what happened. A leg was broken, an old man retired, and this beautiful creature was propelled into stardom. One chapter ended, but another was just about to begin . . .” He smiles down at Gadget, who smiles back.
I force myself to keep my eyes facing forward.
Owen turns towards the room again and continues his speech.
“Later that day, when I was lying in my hospital bed, I could never have imagined I’d already met my soulmate, let alone believe it was the guy who’d broken my leg.
But I’m a big believer in fate, and the universe has a funny way of working sometimes. ”
Guests around the marquee glance over at their partners and lovers and family members with soft smiles. I can’t or maybe don’t want to look at Georgia, though I feel her stiff presence beside me silently radiating her frustration.
What I want to do is look at him.
Instead, I angle my body in the other direction and search out Abs.
He’s not even watching Owen or Mathias, who he’d grumbled about nonstop since receiving the invite.
He’s throwing figurative daggers at Orlando, who’s sitting directly in front of him.
There’s a very real possibility that this seating arrangement was a subtle dig at Abs.
If that’s the case, I kinda support it.
“Sometimes,” Owen says. “Very special and important people will turn up in our lives, but at the wrong moments. Mathias and I were meant to be together, just not right then. The universe kept us apart for eight more years. But things that are meant to be will always find a way of getting back to you, and here we are. And I wouldn’t change anything that happened in our past, including my leg snapping clean in two, because eventually all of those moments and micro events would bring us together once and for all. ”
Some guests dab tears from under their eyes. There’s a lump forming in my throat and I simply cannot fight the direction my gaze travels in.
“We were meant to be together, just not right then.”
“Things that are meant to be will always find a way of getting back to you.”
“Eventually, all those moments would bring us together once and for all.”
Eggo’s staring at me. How long he’s been looking my way, I’m not sure. His lips are parted and there’s a crease between his brow, and my heart feels like it’s trying to sync up with an EDM track.
“To my incredible wild card,” Owen says, lifting his glass of fizz in the air.
Everyone joins in—“To Mathias”—and I’m pulled out of the moment. Georgia glares at me. I can’t bring myself to return the eye contact.
Owen and Gadget share a kiss, and then it’s Mathias’s turn to deliver his speech.
And I listen because I’m not rude, but I can’t stop myself from replaying Owen’s words.
I’m also replaying Georgia’s words from the cafe the other day.
I’m watching Eggo, who frequently turns to look at me and doesn’t even hide his wandering gaze.
We have to sit through another three speeches, including one from our captain, Dan, who is serving as Gadget’s best man. He finishes his fifteen minute standup routine with a toast—“To love!”—and everybody parrots it.
“To love,” we say with our glasses held high.
Once again Eggo’s looking at me. Beside me, Georgia’s shoulders drop, she sighs, and I sense rather than see her angle away from me.
I don’t have any adjectives to describe how I’m feeling, because right now . . . there is nothing but an achy numbness.
“Take me home,” Georgia says to Megan as soon as the speeches are done and the wedding organisers begin clearing the tables to make way for a dance floor.
“Can we talk first?” I say, running behind in her wake.
Georgia spares her friend one glance before grabbing my arm and marching me towards the edge of the marquee. “You can fucking stay there,” she yells to Eggo, who’d followed us both out. He halts in his tracks at her words and turns towards Megan. And then I’m outside.
The chill spring evening air is already making its way through my jacket and shirt, and my skin puckers with tiny goosebumps. Above our heads, thousands of glittering festoon lights twinkle in strings across an overly elaborate pergola.
“Well?” she says. “You said, ‘Can we talk first?’ so what do you want to talk about?”
“I . . .” But I actually have nothing to say. I love her, but I don’t want to be in a relationship with her any longer. I shouldn’t get a second chance. And even if she gave me one, I’d likely yeet it right into the Atlantic Ocean the moment Eggo asked me to go to him.
I don’t want a second chance.
“I’m done,” she says. She hoicks up her skirt and flops onto the pergola deck.
I can see her undies, but I’m sure she’s beyond caring.
“I thought that we could keep up this charade for a while. I thought it would be easier than answering a bunch of questions from everybody, because honestly . . . I’m fucking sick of people asking me if I’m okay.
I’m done with it. But . . .” She heaves out a sigh, shakes her head, and looks up to the twinkling party lights.
“This is worse. Now it’s just awkward, and . . . you’re miserable.”
I sit beside her. “Yes. But that’s entirely my fault. And it’s my fault that you’re miserable too, and I’m so fucking sorry.” I half want to tell her I wish I’d never done it, I wish I could take it all back, but Owen’s words are still echoing through my mind.