Chapter Thirty-Three
Rowan
I throw the last dress in the bag and close the zip. I’m breathing hard, as if I’ve run the two hundred metre Olympic sprint – and still come last place.
Fuck Angus.
Fuck him for his beautiful face and his fucking magical tongue. Fuck him for seeming like the biggest grump and then turning out to be the sweetest man. Fuck him for holding me with such tenderness I thought I could cry. And fuck him most of all for making me hope – and then taking it away.
I’m angry. Fuming.
How dare he point out everything I already know?
Of course we aren’t going to work. Of course it’s doomed.
Strong, capable, stubborn, beautiful people like Angus don’t end up with failures like me.
I’ve always known that to be true. And besides, we live at other ends of the country. Want different things.
He likes hiking, for god’s sake. And I…
I don’t know what I like. What I want. He asks for a plan: I have no plan. The future stretches ahead of me like a vast grey gulf, and I’m feeling my way into it one step at a time.
I’m not cut out to be with anyone. Sophie was right: everything I touch, I ruin. Selfish. Useless. Failure.
No wonder Angus doesn’t want to be with me. Most of the time, I barely want to be with me. The clarity, the strength, the confidence I felt at the end of the hike: it’s all so far away. I don’t know up from down.
All I know is that I want to run.
“Rowan!” Mum screeches her way into the room.
“Have you spoken to your sister this morning? They’re saying that she’s leaving Henry?
Please tell me this is all a bad dream and everyth— You’re packing.
Why are you packing? And you’re crying? Oh, love, is this about Sophie?
It’s going to be fine. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.
They’re getting married today, for heaven’s sake!
I brought a dress! A hat! It has feathers on it!
Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for an excuse to buy a feathered hat?
I’m supposed to be walking her down the aisle! ”
“I’m really sorry, Mum.” I wipe my eyes. “But you’re not.”
“I’m not?”
“The wedding’s off.”
“But what happened?” Mum sinks slowly onto a chair in the corner of the room. It’s far too low for her. Her knees come over her chest. She hugs them. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, really, but it sounds like this is something Sophie needs to do. You haven’t seen her then? She’s not in her room?”
I need to say goodbye. I can’t stay here, not with him, but I also can’t run off. Not again.
“No.” Mum rests her chin on her knees. “This is all your father’s fault. He poisoned you both against marriage, against commitment. If he hadn’t screwed that lying whore, none of this would be happening.”
I press a hand to my forehead against the incoming headache. I so do not have the emotional bandwidth to deal with this.
“Knock knock.”
Thank god.
“Ah, there you are, Linda. How are you doing, pet? Not good, I see.” Joan edges into the room with a sigh. “Okay then. What do you need? Ibuprofen? Glass of wine? That therapy we’ve been talking about for the last decade? No?”
Mum mumbles something into her hands that I can’t decipher.
“I can’t force either of your girls into relationships that no longer serve them, no.
” Joan gives me a quick up and down. “Maybe you should spend a little less time worrying about what they ought to be doing, and praising them for what they are. You’ve got two strapping independent lasses here, Lindy.
Very set in their own minds. You might want to give them a bit of credit for that. ”
I still, surprised. I’ve been bracing, expecting a classic Mum tirade: tears, hysterics, long monologue about the many, many ways she’s worried about my future. I wasn’t expecting this.
“Prosecco it is then. I’ll be right back.” Joan pauses, taking in my nearly packed bag. “I’m taking your outdoorsy friends to the station in a little bit. In case that’s of interest to you.”
“Joan, you’re a saint.” I could weep with gratitude. “Do you know where Sophie is?”
“Barn, I think.”
“I’ll say my goodbyes. Could you—” I gesture helplessly at Mum, who’s wringing the hem of her dress into a ball.
“Leave her with me. You check on yours, and I’ll look after mine.” Joan puts her hands on her hips and regards Mum sternly. “Now, Lindy, what do we say?”
“It’s not the end of the world, it just feels like it.”
“That’s right, pet. And again.”
“It’s not the end…”
I leave them to it, glad there’s someone in place to handle Mum. The corridor is deserted; I catch a glimpse of Stuart in the kitchen and veer the other way, leaving the house on the wrong side of the barn and then skirting around the farm until I’m approaching the wide double doors.
No sign of Angus anywhere. Good.
I find Sophie in the barn, now dressed in figure hugging jeans, no-nonsense brown leather boots and a pale blue sweater. She’s contemplating her surroundings in silence.
It’s beautiful. Empty, decked to the nines, the only signs of life the sunlight streaming in through the high windows, it has the feeling of a holy space.
I can see the love Angus has poured into it in every element, from the polished and sanded wooden floorboards, to the newly installed window frames, the carefully restored walls.
I can picture him doing it: the furrow of concentration on his brow, his careful, strong hands placing the next nail just so, his focus intense, the way he does everything. All in. No half measures.
Except when it comes to me.
A pang of hurt sings through me, and I dash a tear away. Stupid, to feel so much after knowing him for so little. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“You okay?” I ask Sophie gently, trying not to startle her.
It doesn’t work. She jumps, placing a hand on her heart as she spins around.
“Oh, Rowan. It’s you.” She laughs. “You know, I half expected you to have left already.”
“I’m trying not to do that anymore. Not without saying goodbye.”
“Thanks.” Sophie looks around. “Is it bad that I’m sadder about the venue than the man?”
“Yes. Absolutely. That’s kind of psychopathic, Soph.”
“Damn.”
“Shows you’re making the right choice.”
“Oh, I am so making the right choice. Turns out, you really learn someone’s true nature when you’re throwing a ring at them in the middle of a corridor.
The whole time we were in that room, Henry went on and on about how disappointed his parents would be, how embarrassed he feels having to tell his friends, how many events he’s had to miss because of this wedding. But you know what he didn’t say?”
“What?”
“How much he loved me.”
“Ouch. I take it back. Losing this is way sadder than losing him.”
Sophie runs her hands over one of the place settings. “How’s Mum?”
“Hysterical. Devastated to have two daughters both failing to give her the marriage and babies she needs. Blaming it on Dad, obviously.”
Sophie winces. “She wants to see me, doesn’t she?”
“She does, but Joan’s with her for now.” I grin. “How does it feel to be the fuck-up then?”
“Terrible! I don’t know how you did it all these years.”
We both laugh. Outside, I can hear raised voices, and suitcases being dragged over gravel. Some of the guests making a hasty exit, I assume. No wedding, no need to stay. I check my watch. Not even nine.
“What are you going to do now?” I ask.
She cocks her head in thought. “Is hiding in here forever an option?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“Didn't think so. Well,” she squares her shoulders, taking a deep breath, “I guess I’m going to go check on Mum, and then do the rounds, make my apologies, ensure everyone has transport home. See if Stuart has heard yet – I’m sure he has – and cancelled the caterers.
Apologise to Jonathan for wasting his time making that beautiful cake.
God. All that buttercream… And after that—” She shrugs, a little helplessly.
“—I don’t know. Take it step by step? I’ve never cancelled a wedding before. What about you?”
“Me?”
She narrows her eyes. “You’ve got that look you get when you want to run. Did something happen with Angus?”
“No!”
“Are you seriously trying to lie to me right now?”
“No…”
“Rowan.”
“Fine!” I stare up at the ceiling, desperately blinking back the tears that have leapt to my eyes.
Stupid Rowan. So stupid, thinking this could be something.
Stupid to take a risk. Stupid to open myself up.
Stupid to try. Sophie has left her fiancé, and she’s less emotional than I am.
“It’s no big deal. I guess we were a little closer than I’m letting on.
But it’s over now. Done. We barely knew each other anyway. ”
“You really liked this guy, then?”
“No.” I sniff, sure my face is already red and blotchy, revealing my lie.
Time will give me some perspective. Time will help me realise that it is – what did Angus say? – nothing. A moment in time. Nothing more. Eventually, the fissure I can feel separating the pieces of my heart will disappear, as if it was never there at all.
And I will be alone.
“It’s not… It’s not because of me, is it?”
“No.” This time: truth. Sophie might have been the excuse, but she isn’t the reason Angus lost his shit, and I ran for the hills. That’s all on us.
“I’m sorry, Ro.” She squeezes my arm. “For what it’s worth, I do think that’s for the best. You’ve known Angus for what? Less than a week? And you literally just broke up with Ethan. Is right now really the right time to start something new?”
She’s right, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t feel like every part of me is breaking. Doesn’t mean that every time I close my eyes, I don't hear his voice: nothing. We are nothing. I mean nothing. I will always be nothing.
“You need to focus on you, Ro,” Sophie says encouragingly. “Not some man. Figure out who you want to be. Start living again. I know you can do it. I believe in you. And, once this mess is cleaned up, I guess I’ll be doing the same.”
“Who’d have thought we’d both be single and starting over at the end of this weekend?”
“Not me. But… I think it’s the right step. For both of us.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Me too.”
Sophie glances around the barn once more, expression wistful. “It really is such a beautiful space. I would have loved getting married here.” Her lips quirk mischievously. “Don’t suppose they’ll let me back if I do find the right groom?”
She startles me into a laugh. “After the drama you’ve caused? Unlikely.”
Sophie purses her lips. “I’ll have to start the charm offensive now.”
“You’re impossible.”
“The word you’re looking for is visionary.”
“Incorrigible.”
“Determined.”
“Stubborn.”
At that, Sophie smiles again. “That we’ve got in common. Now, come on. I’ve got a wedding to cancel and you’ve got a train to catch. Can’t hide in here forever.”