Chapter Five Eliott
Sasha doubles over, tears forming in the creases of her eyes as a loud cackle wracks through her. ‘You did what ?’
I groan into the sofa cushion. ‘I pretended like I didn’t recognise him.’
Even Wes – calm, stoic, typically unflappable Wes – is in hysterics. ‘You didn’t.’
Another groan. This is truly a new low. ‘I did.’
‘Why?’ Sasha chokes out as she pulls herself back upright onto the sofa. ‘What could have possibly possessed you?’
And that’s the million pound question, isn’t it?
What the hell possessed me? Because believe it or not, pretending like I didn’t recognise Dane wasn’t part of the plan.
Plan A was to cling to the shadows like some kind of deranged comic book villain and avoid him like the plague and, if that well-thought-out plan didn’t work?
Plan B was to act like a normal, well-adjusted human being and simply tell him I wasn’t interested in talking.
Instead, the second I whirled around to find Dane looming over me, it was like my brain short-circuited.
All capability of rational thought vanished as I took in that lopsided smile and did, quite possibly, the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.
I regretted it almost as soon as the words came out of my mouth, and an all-consuming blend of guilt and shame weighed me down the entire drive home from the restaurant.
Pretending like I didn’t recognise him was one thing, but doubling down and acting like he was the problem two years ago?
I groan again into the cushion. ‘I don’t know.’
Wes gives me a sympathetic pat on the thigh.
Sasha dissolves into another fit of cackles.
There’s a nondescript terrible SyFy movie playing on mute on the TV in front of us, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table – with copious amounts spilled on the carpet beneath it – alongside an empty, greasy pizza box, and a thick, fluffy blanket awkwardly wrapped around Wes’s legs.
I’ve interrupted a movie night, but neither of them seems to mind.
‘Well, at least you’ll never have to see him again,’ Sasha says, once she’s finally managed to compose herself. She gives me a sideways look and wiggles her brows. ‘Unless—’
‘No,’ I say sharply. ‘I’m not going to accept their wedding request. Absolutely not.’
‘But you said they were nice,’ Wes says. He’s frowning at me and I avoid his judgement by reaching for the popcorn and stuffing a handful into my mouth. ‘Kind of shitty to leave them hanging now.’
‘I’m not leaving them hanging. I’m sure they’ll have plenty of time to find another photographer they like.’ Saying it out loud does absolutely nothing to assuage the wave of guilt that hits me. ‘They haven’t even sent me their date yet. It’s not unreasonable that I might already be booked.’
Sasha and Wes exchange a look. It’s exactly the kind of look Bailey and Cash gave each other when I asked about the wedding. The kind of look that implies there’s some sort of silent conversation going on between the two of them. A silent conversation about me .
I should be used to this.
I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but at some point over the last nine months, Wes has gone from simply being my best friend’s boyfriend who spends an inordinate amount of time at our house to, essentially, a third housemate.
Neither of them have mentioned it officially and sometimes I wonder if they think I haven’t noticed how Wes has a shelf in our bathroom cupboard, or that his laundry lines the rack as often as mine, or how – aside from when he has an out-of-town gig – he spends every single night here.
I don’t usually mind. I like Wes. I love Wes.
He’s perfect for Sasha – the soothing calm to her endless dramatics – and ends up being a helpful tiebreaker whenever we have a disagreement about what to order for dinner or whose turn it is to take the bins out, even if he does nearly always side with Sasha.
Fundamentally, I like having him here. I just would’ve preferred that they’d asked me about it before just going ahead and moving him in without a word.
But right now, sat squashed between them with the remains of their interrupted movie night spread out in front of us, while they engage in a silent conversation about me, I can’t help but feel like a third wheel.
I stand up abruptly, sending another wave of popcorn rolling to the floor. ‘I’m not doing the wedding.’
Sasha blinks innocently up at me. ‘We didn’t say you should.’
‘But you should,’ Wes adds.
A rare spark of irritation towards the pair of them begins to simmer inside me. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
Because how could they? What they have might not have been love at first sight, but it was definitely close.
By their second date it was clear that Sasha was head over heels for him, and Wes has done nothing over the last four years to suggest that she was wrong.
They just fit together. Like two perfect puzzle pieces who were always meant to find each other.
And me? I’m broken. There’s something wrong with me and the last thing I need to do is spend any amount of time with my biggest reminder of that fact.
So, yeah. Maybe it is a shitty thing to do. Maybe I am going to leave Bailey and Cash hanging. But I don’t owe them anything. Not really.
Guilt twists my stomach into painful knots.
I can keep telling myself that, but it’s clear I don’t even believe it myself.