Chapter Sixteen
“There’s the woman of the hour,” Rory said with overzealous enthusiasm as he and Jonathan approached the bar with gleeful looks on their faces. “We knew that was Amelia Whitlock we spied in town. We just knew it. But we didn’t know why, you dark horse.”
It took everything Imogen had not to roll her eyes or tell them to mind their own business.
God, it was tempting. It was about the thirtieth interaction like that she’d had all day.
It felt like everyone in the village had seen the photo.
Sally. Mel. Cian. Even One Pint Willy had been shown it by his daughter—and of course he recognised her because he’d already seen Amy in the pub.
And it wasn’t only the village. Her phone had been going nonstop between her family, old work colleagues from Clover, and even some old school friends she hadn’t spoken to in almost twenty years.
Everyone came crawling out of the woodwork.
Had Imogen ever mentioned that she hated attention? Hated it!
“I guess the secret’s out about my famous friend,” she replied to Rory, trying to sound carefree and casual, even though it stung every time she said that word.
Friend. She had used the same line throughout all her interactions about Amy.
The queen of cool, that was Imogen. On the outside, at least. Inside, she was completely falling apart. Her own doing.
“Oooo now,” Jonathan piped in. “You can’t fool us. Those weren’t two friends snuggling in that picture.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “People used to think me and Rory were just friends too.” He followed that up with an overexaggerated wink.
Imogen focused very hard on the pint she was pouring, right up until it sloshed over the rim.
“Ah here, she’s spilling drinks and everything.” Rory laughed. “Look at her face.”
“I’m saying absolutely nothing,” Imogen muttered, grabbing the nearest towel.
“That’s as good as confirmation,” Jonathan declared triumphantly.
She let the pair of them gush some more about how lucky she was, and how amazing Amelia Whitlock was, and how they wanted to be invited to the wedding.
She’d learned it was easier to let people think and say whatever they liked, especially when they didn’t believe her anyway.
Besides, hearing them talk about Amy like that hurt enough already.
Imogen was glad when their pints were poured, their money was in the till, and their bums were in two seats halfway across the pub. She liked Jonathan and Rory well enough, but talk about overfamiliar.
“I think I’ll go onto food for a bit,” Imogen announced. That was the only job without customer interaction, and she’d had quite enough of those for one day, thank you very much.
After she and Niamh traded places, Imogen slipped her phone out of her back pocket.
She had looked at the leaked photo so many times, she could have drawn it from memory if she had any artistic skills.
Which she did not. But because she loved to punish herself, Imogen pulled it back up onto the screen anyway.
Why settle for the memory when it was there in high definition?
“Stop it,” Niamh said over her shoulder.
“Oh. You’re spying on me now as well, are you?
” Imogen said, attempting to sound light-hearted rather than annoyed.
She couldn’t be annoyed at Niamh. She and Piper had been nothing but supportive since the photo had hit the internet that morning.
Needless to say, Piper had seen it before Imogen had even made it back to the Wishing Well.
Her two friends had been waiting for her, greeting her with open arms the second she walked through the door.
“When I know you’re torturing yourself, absolutely.” Niamh was fierce when she was in protective mode. And Imogen had never known anyone better at it.
“Well, it’s unfortunate that you’re not the only one who sneaks around spying on folk.” Imogen had known there was something off about Bridget. Especially after she’d met her last night.
“Bridget Clemonte is officially struck off my hot list.” Niamh drew an X in the air with her finger.
“And mine,” Piper said, emerging from the storeroom carrying a crate of cider. She set it on the floor with a grunt. “Mess with Immy, you mess with us. Isn’t that right, Niamh?”
“Aye. Too right,” Niamh said.
“My guardian angels,” Imogen said, giving each of them an appreciative glance. She blew out a breath. “It will blow over. I know it will. It’s just going to be difficult until then.”
“How about Amelia—Amy? Have you spoken to her?” Niamh asked.
Imogen hadn’t told them about the text message she’d sent to Amy, but there was no time like the present, she guessed. “I think I ended things.”
She expected more hugs, maybe a soothing back rub, but instead Niamh and Piper exchanged a look. And it wasn’t a look Imogen could decipher, which was weird. She thought she knew all their looks by now.
“Just like that?” Niamh asked. “Even after last night?” She didn’t sound disapproving exactly, but she didn’t sound approving either.
“That’s exactly the problem,” Imogen said. “I went there to make sure she was okay, and somehow everything only got more complicated.” She folded the towel in her hands for the third time. “I care about her. I just…” She blew out a breath. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Piper and Niamh did that thing where they had a silent conversation with their eyes. It was like their own language or something. There were squints and eyebrow movements and head jerks and everything.
“Actually, I think you should take this one,” Niamh said to Piper, taking a step back after they concluded their strange choreography.
“Uh-oh.” Imogen must really be in trouble if Niamh was willingly giving Piper the lead. “Hit me, Pipes.”
“Okay.” Piper seemed to brace herself. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Imogen blinked. She genuinely hadn’t been expecting that. Her friends had wrapped her in cotton wool all day and now they were telling her off? Where was the continuity? She folded her arms. “Maybe Niamh should have taken this one after all.”
“Okay.” Niamh stepped forward and took hold of Imogen’s arms. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
At least her tone had been softer. But her too? “Whoa. Thanks for the sympathy, you two.”
“I’m sorry, Immy. But you don’t deserve sympathy for this self-sabotage,” Piper said. “For the rest, yes. Your worst nightmare is happening and we’re with you. We will get through all the shite together because that’s what we do. But breaking up with Amelia, I don’t feel sorry for you for that.”
“Me either,” Niamh added. Though at least she looked pained to say it. Piper was doling out the tough love with confidence.
“Do you think I wanted to end things? Seriously? I’m in love with her. It’s killing me that I can’t be with her.”
“But you can,” Piper said impatiently, raising her voice in the process. “The woman you love, loves you back, and you’re throwing her away because you’re scared.”
Imogen narrowed her eyes. “That’s not fair. I’ve decided that I value safety and privacy. What’s wrong with wanting those things for myself?” Was wanting those things really so terrible?
“Value them more than you value Amelia?” Piper retorted.
Imogen and Piper glared at each other, neither of them willing to back down.
Niamh put herself in the middle of it and addressed Imogen.
“Look. I know you were worried about this whole thing coming out, right? But now it’s out.
It’s happened. And people are nosy and irritating, but the world hasn’t ended.
In fact, you’ve probably heard from most of the people you’re gonna hear from. That part’s done.”
“Yeah, but right now it’s only this one thing.
A blip that will be forgotten in no time, as long as I don’t add any more fuel to the fire.
And I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to set myself up for ongoing criticism.
” Imogen waved a hand around the room. “It’s not just me.
Even the Wishing Well would be impacted.
Imagine the reporters and the fans swarming the place trying to catch a glimpse of Amelia. It would be hell.”
“Maybe,” Niamh said gently. “But we would find a way to deal with it together. That’s what we do.”
“Think of the extra business,” Piper added. Trust her to find a silver lining in potential chaos. “But seriously, there are ways to handle all that. You don’t throw away someone you love over it.”
“You know the other reasons too.” Imogen didn’t need to tell them what had happened before. They’d lived it.
“Amelia is not Chelsea,” Piper said firmly. “She has been nothing but amazing since you two met.”
“She didn’t tell me who she was,” Imogen pointed out.
Piper pulled her lips to one side. “Apart from that.” She lifted her shoulders and dropped them again. “I just think you’re throwing away something really great. That’s all. It’s stupid. You’re being stupid.”
“Well, I appreciate your high opinion of me, but it’s done.” Imogen knew she was digging her heels in, but she had expected a little more support from her friends on this one. “Think you guys can take it from here? I’m going to head upstairs for the night.”
Niamh looked alarmed, probably because things had escalated so fast. “Imogen, you don’t have to go.”
“I really do though. You can text me if things get busy. But other than that, I’d like some time alone.”
“Fine,” Piper said. “Run away. You’re good at that.”
Niamh spun around and pointed a finger at her. “Too far, Pipes.”
Imogen let out a humourless laugh. “No, no. Tell me how you really feel, Pipes. That’s just fucking fantastic.
” She turned on her heel and pushed through the door into the hall.
She stomped up the stairs and slammed her front door as hard as she could.
Piper had pissed her off and she wanted her to know it. Even Niamh was guilty by association.