Chapter 14
Fourteen
Nash
The last two weeks have both flown by and dragged interminably.
As I’ve been juggling finalising plans with David to make sure the next phase of our product development goes smoothly, liaising with my patent attorney, Kwame, to review my payment structure for my existing devices on the market, and both figuratively and literally preparing for the arrival of a child into my home, time has felt like it’s against me.
There have not been enough hours in the day for endless online video meetings, a trip into London, getting a Christmas tree, and what felt like days wandering Ikea with Mum and Wren while they purchased a van-load of flat-pack furniture for my kid’s bedroom.
I already have a bed in there, but the rest of the furniture stands against walls like an army of Minecraft soldiers standing sentry.
I haven’t been able to face putting the furniture together yet. I won’t until I hear from the matching panel, who are meeting tomorrow morning.
On the other hand, each message from Corey that I ignore, every Sunday dinner with my family I avoid, just in case Aidan and Rain bring him along, or whenever I duck into the nearest available hiding spot when I see him around the village, time moves so slowly, I swear I see glaciers racing past me.
I feel like a complete and utter arsehole.
Especially now Corey’s stopped sending me text messages at all.
After that first message with Pax licking his ear, I had stared at his cute scrunched-up face, his wide grin caught in a laugh, for far longer than I care to admit.
I’d never seen anything so incredibly beautiful that my heart literally skipped a beat.
And then my absolutely stupid, thoughtless, flirty response had proven I couldn’t control myself around Corey. He’s too sweet, too endearing, too fucking perfect. My heart doesn’t stand a chance around him, and I can’t open that box while the adoption is still going through. I just can’t.
Shelley is sick and tired of me whinging at her.
When I had to go to London to meet with Kwame, I stayed overnight with her and Owen.
We’d put the world to rights over dinner, and then the interrogation had begun.
Suffice it to say, she thinks I’m an idiot and a bit of a twat for leading him on and then ghosting him.
I don’t disagree.
Even Aidan has been on my case about it, and Rain gave me the worst side-eye I’ve ever seen when I bumped into him in the post office the other day. I’m sure that’s all them, though. Corey doesn’t seem the type to broadcast what a dick I’m being, and I hate myself for maybe hurting his feelings.
But I have to protect my actual heart here.
There’s no way Corey would want some old git like me pining over him, so while yes, it’s shitty to be avoiding him, at least as far as he knows, I’m just being a bad friend.
A bad friend who is desperately trying to kill off a very inconvenient bout of real feelings.
I’ll have no choice but to see him tonight, though. Tonight… is Eve eve.
Eve eve – or the twenty-third of December, as any normal person calls it – has been a tradition in my family for as long as I can remember.
As soon as Aidan and I were legal, we started going to the pub this night every year with Sam, Chris, and Poppy, where we proceeded to get absolutely blotto.
By wasting ourselves on the day before Christmas Eve, we ensured we were able to do all the obligatory family shit, albeit with a raging hangover, that we resented so much as teenagers, but that is now pretty much our favourite part of this time of year.
As our younger siblings reached the legal (ish) drinking age – small villages, what can I say?
There’s always been a bit of strategic looking the other way that goes on in the pubs around here – Archer, Cole, and eventually Wren would also join us.
Lo and behold, here we are, a decade and a half since I had my first legal beer in this pub, still doing the same thing.
Namely, early doors beers, and usually being the ones to close down the pub after about six hours’ drinking time.
I’m the first to arrive and order myself a pint of beer on my way in. I haven’t even paid before the rest of the rabble pile in, and my round gets a lot more expensive. Corey slips in quietly behind Aidan, and I decide to bite the bullet, since I know what everyone else’s order will be.
“Corey? What would you like?” I say, disgusted at myself and the way I’m pretending I haven’t been ignoring him for weeks.
“Oh,” he says, a little startled, that rabbit in the headlights look taking over him once again. “That’s OK. I can get my own.” Fuck, I’m a twat.
“No, it’s my round. Please, let me buy you a drink?” I ask, and if it sounds a little like I’m begging in my own head, then I’ll just pretend I’m imagining it.
He stares at me blankly for a while before looking over my shoulder and noticing the group of friends and family around us is starting to take notice.
He swallows, and I see his throat move, his emotions written all over his face.
He’s pissed off at me, and he’s embarrassed.
And I feel like the worst kind of arsehole.
“Thank you. I’ll have a red wine, please. Malbec if they have it.”
I nod, and he brushes past me, leaning away so he doesn’t even have to touch me.
Fuck.
The festivities are raucous as usual. People coming and going from our table to play darts, or pool, or to buy a round at the bar.
The pub is busy tonight, and Sam is clearly stressing out.
It hits a peak at about nine o’clock, and Corey gets up, disappears behind the bar, and just starts serving people.
It’s obvious Sam needs some help – his one other barman is struggling to keep up.
The look of relief and gratitude on Sam’s face as he smiles at Corey makes me want to punch Sam a little bit.
If Corey doesn’t come out of tonight with a job, I’ll eat my hat.
It’s an hour or so later, when Corey comes back to the table once the bulk of the crowd seems to have gone home for the evening.
“Guess what,” he says excitedly to Rain.
“What, babe?” Rain replies.
“Sam gave me a job! I’m starting on Boxing Day!”
“Oh, Cor, that’s so great,” Rain gushes and pulls his friend into a hug.
The evening passes as it does every year, with increasingly loud behaviour from Archer and Cole, reminiscences of trouble we got up to when we were younger, and a fair amount of village gossip.
What is completely out of the ordinary is the woman who strolls in, wrapped in a fur coat like some Bond villain with a designer overnight bag hanging from her arm.
Sam, now sitting with us after the crowd in the pub thinned to a level his other barman could manage on his own, turns a ghostly shade of white at the sight of her.
I don’t think I imagine the sideways glance he gives to Wren and the way he blinks a little slower than usual, as though he’s gathering his courage before he gets up. I have a horrible feeling about this.
Wren and I went for lunch yesterday, and she told me how he has been ghosting her and how she’s not sure what she did to make him act so differently.
I’ll admit hearing that from her made the guilt I felt for how I’ve been avoiding Corey increase tenfold.
But right now, I can’t focus on that. I’m looking at Sam as he stands and approaches the stranger.
“Tash?” he says, his voice gravelly.
“Hi, Sam.” Her round belly, clear to see under her open coat, suggests that she is at least eight months pregnant, and the somewhat arrogant tone she uses as she speaks to our friend immediately puts our whole table on edge. She indicates her stomach and says, “I think we need to talk.”
Sam quickly recovers from his shock, and he starts frantically clearing glasses from the table, obviously wanting us to leave as soon as possible. Curiosity, as usual, seems to get the best of Archer, and he introduces himself to this stranger, who is apparently not, in fact, a stranger to Sam.
“I’m Natasha,” she replies, coolly. “Sam’s wife.”
The anger I feel towards my old friend is visceral in that moment. Has he been fucking around on my sister? Has he been leading her on?
I look over at Wren and see she’s crying quietly and quickly gathering her things before bolting out of the pub, giving Sam a glare as she passes him.
For his part, Sam looks lost, and if I’m not mistaken, completely heartbroken.
I can’t pretend to care all that much about his broken heart right now, though. I’m more concerned about my sister.
We all make our way outside, and Wren is already halfway down the road towards the café, Poppy’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.
In my experience, what little I have, when a woman is upset like this, nine times out of ten, her female friends are a better source of comfort than her overbearing big brothers are likely to be.
So, begrudgingly, none of us follow our baby sister and instead make our way to Aidan’s house.
Rain and Corey are walking a little way ahead of us, and I curse myself for paying such close attention to the way I wish his jeans were a little less baggy just so I could see the way his hips might move as he walks.
I’m not really hearing what my brothers are saying, except for vague guesses about how the fuck Sam has a wife that none of us knew about.
We’re almost back at the house when Corey suddenly shouts.
“What’s that? That glow?”
Without hesitation, we all run in the direction he’s pointing, towards the eerie glow that lights the sky ahead of us. I have a sinking feeling in my gut about what it is, I just hope like hell I’m wrong.
Sadly, I’m not.