Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
NOW
Leo
A nd there it is. The best sight in the world.
Sadie Stewart, wearing one of her trademark brighter-than-Times-Square smiles, walking down the aisle towards me where I’m waiting.
Except I’m the officiant at this wedding, not the groom. And she’s walking the bride down the aisle, beaming at Emily with excited joy. Sadie’s filling in for Emily’s late father today. After all, it needed doing, and Dean and I were both occupied. So she’s insistent that the beautiful, smoky heather coloured dress is not a bridesmaid dress, even though she’s playing that role as well.
For a few scant seconds I savour this small moment, just for me. It may have to tide me over for the rest of my days.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming. Eli is choked up with happiness as the love of his life walks to meet him. He looks like the cat that got the cream. Emily, one of my favourite people in the world, radiant as any bride I’ve ever seen in a vintage white dress down to her knees, has love for Eli shining brightly in her eyes. Dean, my other cousin, keeps grinning as he stands next to Eli, looking better and healthier than he’s looked in many a long year. His service dog, Click, is also wearing a little tuxedo, and he’s melting hearts with his sweet, happy, teddy-like face and eagerly wagging tail. Dean’s girlfriend, Liaden, plays the piano and sings Halo by Beyonce with her power ballad voice. As generically wedding-y as the choice is, it’s perfect, and lyrically significant for this happy couple in a way it may not be for everyone else that chooses it.
And I get to conduct the wedding ceremony and marry them to each other in front of our friends and most of our family.
Life doesn’t get much better than this.
Although actually, I think as Sadie hands Em to Eli with a huge smile, it just might. Maybe. If I play this one hundred percent correctly with no missteps.
It’s been a few months now since that dickhole, Peter, dumped her. I don’t think he broke her heart as much as he broke her pride, her sense of where her life was at and where she was headed. She’s been off her game ever since, still my sparkling firecracker, but quieter, more subdued. Less outgoing. The challenging glint in her eyes is starting to return, though, and I’m going to fan that flame any way I can. I’ve missed her, the real her, the one who called me out on all my shit and never let me get away with anything. I want that back.
I want her, for good.
And in my bones, I know the time has come to lay my cards out on the table. To tell her that she’s everything I’ve ever looked for in another human being, and that, if she’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making her happier than she ever dreamed of being. I’ve waited years for this chance, and I’m finally, finally going to muster up all my courage, accept the risks, and take it.
It’s time.
“Goddamnit, Dean,” I say, hugging him, “you had me chopping onions like a motherfucker.” His speech was perfect, signed by him and translated aloud by Liaden, and I wasn’t the only person getting misty as they spoke together. I know he’d been feeling awful about Em and Eli having to cancel their original wedding plans when he had his final breakdown. I also know the way he put his heart into his best man speech would have more than made up for it in their eyes.
As if he ever needed to.
And anyway, the whole day has been a roaring success so far. The staff at Quilley Park on the edge of town really pulled out all the stops and did a great job, from the fairy lights and flower displays running across the room to the wait staff, for whom nothing is too much trouble. There’s no doubt in my mind that this venue and this day was so much better than the day they originally had planned: a decked out barn where they’d have had to do all the decorating, the food, and pretty much everything themselves rather than letting the professionals do it so they could enjoy their own big day.
Hopefully now Dean can accept that they made the right decision. He’s a lot less self-deprecating these days, but today’s wedding magic can only help to underline that for him.
He grins at me. Thanks, but Liaden was the one who made it pop.
“But you wrote the words,” she protests to him, turning and giving me a hug that makes her pink hair tickle my chin. “And you, Reverend Mills, played the ceremony exactly right, by the way.”
“Thanks, Rizzo.” I’m relieved she thinks so. I know some people expected me to take the piss out of the whole thing, but aside from the Klingon joke for Em and a couple of one-liners to calm their nerves at the start, I was serious throughout, and treated the event, and the honour of conducting the ceremony, with the warmth and gravity it deserved. I’m a joker, not an asshole.
And Eli and Em seem happy with how it went, which is all that ever mattered to me. Right now, they look surgically joined at the hip as they greet the guests in turn. My younger sister, Tippi, who flew in specially from her latest trip around Europe. My other sister, Theda, and her rainbow haired wife, May. Our mother broke her leg skiing in Vale three weeks before the wedding, or she’d be here, too. Uncle Kit, out of his ripped jeans and motor oil stained t-shirts for once, wearing his suit from yesteryear that’s still pristine. Auntie Woowoo, in a dress she likely hand-dyed herself, busily loving on Click who follows her around devotedly like the the most adorable little dude in the world. Even Eli’s stepmother, Aunt Kate, has been making a fuss of him, and she claims to be afraid of dogs. Uncle Joe hugs Emily warmly, seemingly happier with his son’s second choice of wife; but then, that’s hardly a high bar, since Charmaine was selfish and mean as a pissed off cat. Dean’s sister, Neroli, even managed to make it all the way from Canada, though she needs to be back in a couple of days. I think she really wanted to meet Liaden, size her up and assess how likely she was to break her brother’s heart, but she looks like she’s been well and truly won over given how the two of them have been linking arms and giggling together all day.
And there’s Sadie, chatting to her brother and her niece. She’s relaxed around them the way she isn’t with many other people. I’m pretty sure I can include myself in that select group, but it’s still great to watch her with them. Eleanor is, what, eleven or twelve now, and it’s clear from the rapt way she gazes at Sadie that Sadie is the cool aunt. Because of course she is: beautiful, tatted up, and a take-no-shit badass.
Dean coughs. I could do with another break, he signs to Liaden, giving her a meaningful look that I’m pretty sure anyone with half a brain cell could interpret.
“Anything you say, my love,” she says, immediately jumping to take his hand and lead him off to the breakout room Em organised in case Dean felt like he needed to take five at any point. He’s been dealing with the music and the party atmosphere better than I ever thought he possibly could, but that’s the second time they’ve gone there in the past hour. I’d be concerned about him if it wasn’t for the fact that they seem to come out of there looking decidedly rumpled, and that Liaden is trying to grab his other hand to stop it from squeezing her ass as they go.
On the other hand, though, their insatiable lust for each other does give me a great opportunity to take Mr and Mrs Gastright to one side and tell them about my wedding present.
I’ve been looking forward to this moment all day. And since they got engaged.
And for the past ten years.
“Sorry to interrupt, Pickle,” I say to Tippi, sliding my arm around her neck and interrupting her conversation with Eli and Em, “but I need to borrow the newlyweds.”
She squeezes my arm under her chin affectionately. “Ya really wanna speak with this yutz?” she asks them, squeaking when I rub my knuckles on top of her blonde curls. She travels a lot and spends more time in the States than I do, so while she doesn’t sound as American as Theda, who lives in New Orleans, she has more of a noticeable twang than me. I love both Theda and Tippi very much, but if you forced my hand and told me I had to pick my favourite sister, Tippi has the edge. She’s just buckets of sunshine and wisecracks, and never lets anything get in the way of what she wants. Although she’s eight years younger than me, I kind of want to be her when I grow up.
“Trust me, you really do,” I tell them with a wink.
“ Fine ,” Eli jokes, “but Tip, if you do to my wedding cake what you did to my eleventh birthday cake…”
She holds her hands up. “You were all playing stupid Nintendo for hours and hours, and I was bored and hungry!”
“Oh, god, is that when you ate all the frosting off the top, and you threw up for about a straight hour afterwards…” I gag jokingly.
“What was I supposed to do? The frosting was this thick and soooooo good , ” she whispers to Em, her thumb and forefinger a good two inches apart, “so I ate every last bit.”
“Of course, it was one of Aunt Wendy’s.”
“And now I’m going to go find her and ask her to make me one for my next birthday,” she says, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing waiter and wandering away. Tippi’s a wanderer right through to her marrow, always leaving doors open behind her, always dancing along her own path that only she can see. I hope I get to spend some proper time with her before she leaves, though I do not want to hear a single thing about her sex blog. I don’t care how many awards it has won: there are some things I don’t need to know about my baby sis.
“OK, what’s up?” Em asks, and I pull them into a corner away from everyone.
I get butterflies. After all these years, the moment has finally arrived. “So, I thought I’d give you your wedding present now, because I have a feeling it might make your day even better.” I reach for the envelope in my pocket and hand it to her, shove my hands in my pockets, and wait, almost jumping up and down.
She frowns curiously, and Eli watches as she opens it. He has no idea what’s in there, either, and I can’t wait to see the look on his face.
Em’s is one hell of a picture as she half gasps, half squawks when she reads the figure on the cheque.
“I have a confession to make,” I say, my grin huge. “I’m your landlord.”
Eli’s jaw drops as he reads the figure over his wife’s shoulder, where the cheque reads one hundred and twenty five thousand pounds. Well, the amount in the savings account was actually one hundred and twenty four thousand eight hundred, but I prefer round numbers.
“Leo, what the fuck?” Eli breathes, staring at me like I’m growing wings out of my back.
I give in. “So, when Dad died, he left us in a pretty good position financially, and I inherited…a decent amount,” I hedge, “when I hit twenty one.” And I did. Dad was a financial advisor, and died in a plane crash coming home from a business trip when I was fourteen. It was horrendous, and I’d give back everything in my trust, and all the interest it’s accrued across almost twenty five years, to have him here with us now. But since that can’t happen, I made the best of things and used the money to follow my dreams. To make my dad proud. “So I was able to start up Wishbone off the back of it, and there was enough left over for some smart investments my finance guy recommended, and…well, it wasn’t long before I was able to buy some investment properties. Including the flats that you and Dean live in.”
Eli and his wife are wearing identical expressions of bewilderment. I burst out laughing because this is just the way I pictured it in my head. I didn’t want to give him the cheque back when he married Charmaine, partly because I didn’t like her and doubted the lasting power of that particular marriage, but mostly because it hadn’t quite reached the holy wow figure it is now.
“Leo, what…I mean, where did…” Em’s hands are damn near shaking, making the cheque flutter.
“Oh,” I reply, “that’s all the rent that Eli’s been paying his landlord since he arrived in the UK.”
Her hand covers her mouth. Eli just keeps shaking his head, scratching his temple and muttering, “No way, no way .”
“I always planned to give it to you one day, fam, and today seemed like the best possible choice. I’ve done the same for Dean, and I’m gonna give him his cheque after the wedding, cos…I mean, now you have yours, it seems only fair to you both.”
“Leo, frere …” Eli seems genuinely emotional. “It’s too much…”
“Oh, shut up,” I say, giving them both a bear hug, one under each arm. “Spend it on something badass, piss it all away on coke and hookers, or save it for a rainy day, whatever you want. It’s yours.”
I don’t think either of them have ever hugged me as hard as they’re doing right now. I mentally punch the air. This was exactly what I wanted to happen.
“So this entire time, when I called the letting agent…”
“They’d call me,” I confirm. “Seemed weird that I’d pay you at the parlour, and then you’d give me that money back in rent, but here we are.”
“Goddamn,” Eli laughs in disbelief. “How the fuck did you keep that quiet?”
“It wasn’t easy,” I admit, “but this moment just made it all worthwhile. Oh, and don’t bother paying me any rent anymore. The account is closed. That place is yours for as long as you need it, free of charge.”
“Leo… thank you .” Em’s voice damn near aches. I remember when she first arrived, and how she was trying to eke out her running away fund to start a new life in Foxton. I always pay my staff the top end of the going rate, but I made doubly sure to give her the going rate plus an extra five thousand a year after seeing her threadbare clothes. I originally saved this up for Eli, thinking I’d probably end up making it his fortieth birthday present, but I’m pleased that Em’s getting it, too. It’s none of my business what they do with it now I’ve handed the money over, but I hope they use it for something that makes them really happy together, like a deposit on a house they can build the rest of their life in.
“Don’t mention it, toots,” I say, giving her a kiss on top of her head. And now for the cherry on the cake. “Right, now that that’s out of the way…” I catch Sadie’s eye across the room and give her a wink and a nod. Nodding back, she heads over to the DJ’s deck to give him the signal. “Em, we have one more surprise, but this one’s just for you.”
Eli whips out his phone. This one he did know about in advance, and when we pitched it to him, he said then and there that he was filming it. This was Sadie’s idea, and it’s a damn good one.
Em smiles nervously, her eyes darting around the room, as I take her hand and pull her towards the dance floor just as Word of Mouth by Mike and the Mechanics starts playing. Her eyes become huge, almost childlike, as they fill with tears. She told us once that one of the only memories she has of her parents, who died when she was six, was driving to Devon for a family holiday with this playing in the car, and all three of them singing along to it. “I know your parents couldn’t be here in body today,” I say, squeezing both her hands, my own voice cracking as her face crumples, “but I bet everything I own that they’re here with you in spirit. And we’re your family now, so we’re standing in for your father-daughter dance.” She buries her head in my shirt, choking with tears as I start to move us side to side in a gentle, easy sway. My left hand at the small of her back, my right holding hers. She became essential to the running of my business within days of becoming our receptionist, but more than that, she became like a sister to me. Thank Christ she walked into the parlour that day. I don’t know what we’d do without her. “We love you, Embo,” I whisper, “and I know your parents would be so proud of you today.”
I can’t deny there’s another lump in my throat when Dean cuts in as we planned after a few lines to carry on the dance. It genuinely sucks that Em’s parents aren’t here celebrating the day, and we’re not a replacement for them, but hopefully she takes this in the spirit it’s intended, and this moment, this song, can still be special for her.
It’s great to watch Dean dance with her, unpracticed and nervous, but doing it anyway, and still smiling. I don’t think he’s been near a dance floor since his prom night, so this moment is an even bigger deal in my heart.
A few more lines, and Sadie cuts in, hug-dancing with her. Even my tough little spitfire is looking a little misted up, her lips trembling almost imperceptibly as she smiles. God, she’s beautiful. Her dress is strapless, and I take a deep, steadying breath as the thought of running kisses along her shoulders, tracing her myriad tattoos with my lips, passes through my head. I’d sell my soul for the chance without thinking twice.
Finally, Liaden cuts in, the newest member of our family but no less important to us all. She beams at Em, who is laughing through her tears, and then I cut in, starting the round again. On and on, we cut in on each other until the song is done.
The guests all look touched, and I imagine Sadie and Liaden filled some of them in on the plan until word spread. But the most heartwarming reaction is Eli’s as he films us on his phone, beaming as he watches his wife dancing with family, his and hers now.
Found family is the best because it’s the family you get to choose, and we chose her.
Sadie
Predictably, as soon as the party really starts, Leo lives on the dancefloor. It’s his happy place; if the man hears any music whatsoever, his toes start tapping as a Pavlovian response. And tonight, filled with the joy of the wedding atmosphere, he’s at his most exuberant. Everyone, from Emily to Wendy to his sister’s wife, is pulled onto the dance floor with him, one by one. He’s relentless. I can’t resist dancing with him myself when Dancing in the Dark comes on, not terribly surprised when my fond eye-rolling turns into happy giggles. We sing along, getting some of the words wrong but not caring because this song is one of our shared favourites, and his eyes are lit up with enjoyment the entire time. He’s a being of pure joy, I think to myself, on this planet to have a good time and help others do the same. And being twirled and spun by Leo makes it impossible not to share it. I’d defy anyone to resist being swept away by him.
He really is looking verrrrrry fine tonight.
I blink, shocked at my unbidden thought. Where the hell did that come from?
I brush it off quickly. It’s just high spirits mixing with the wedding of two of our best friends in the world making everything seem more invigorating. Nothing more. Nothing to think about twice.
And then, heaven help us, Party Rock Anthem starts up.
This song is pure Leo, his current number one jam. And if I thought he was letting it all hang out before, this new song makes his previous efforts look like he wasn’t even trying. His last remaining restraints evaporate entirely as he starts shuffling like he was in the music video, like he’s been possessed by Sky Blu and Redfoo themselves. Em joins in with him, and seeing the bride shuffling for all she’s worth is one of the highlights of my day. People crowd to the dance floor, joining in or watching, all involved, all of us fully in the moment.
Leo’s moves catch everyone’s eye, because how could they not? And by the time the song peaks, they’re all circling him and cheering him on as he breakdances, throwing the sort of moves even I didn’t know he was capable of. He throws his jacket off at one point as the peak of the song approaches, and I think again how good he looks in formalwear.
And I seem to be cheering the loudest when he finishes with a kick up from flat on his back, dusting himself off with the innate cool that seems to come naturally to him and pulling everyone in so we’re all shaking our thing by the time the next song takes over.
Nobody dances like Leopold Mills.
“Having fun?” a gentle voice asks behind me as I grab another glass of wine from the bar. After a good half hour on the dancefloor, finishing with Come on Eileen and Baggy Trousers back to back because the DJ is a reckless maniac, I’m gasping.
I turn to see Wendy’s smiling face. Her hair is a wonderful mix of apricot, mauve, and turquoise, freshly done for the occasion, with some of her natural silver at her temples. She’s one of the warmest people I know, and I feel a small pang of guilt as I fleetingly wish she was my mother. I mean, I love my own, and all, but my connection with Wendy is stronger, easier. She’s open to understanding me, and cares to understand me in a way my own mum seemingly just doesn’t. Mum just wants to keep the peace, even if it costs her and other people theirs.
I beam. “Absolutely.” I give her hand a squeeze. “How about you?”
“Oh, yes,” she says, her voice warm, “it’s been just lovely to catch up with everyone. And Dean’s speech…” She fans her eyes. “God, I can’t think about it too much, or I start to tear up.”
“It was great. And he’s doing so well.” It’s been mindblowing to see the change in him, his increased confidence and stability, just as his friend. As his mother, it must be little short of miraculous.
“But how about you?” she asks, and it’s like she can see right through me. “Are you doing well, honey?”
It’s a hard question to answer. Because on the one hand, yes, I’m doing great. I’m out of a shitty relationship, surrounded by friends, and seriously enjoying watching two of them have the happiest day of their life. But…
Why is there always a ‘but’.
I can’t deny it: I’m also filled with bitter, stinging envy towards both Em and Liaden tonight. I wish I was here with the love of my life, too. I know now that that’s definitely not Peter, never was, but still, it’s hard not to feel a bit like a spare part when most of your nearest and dearest are all coupled up. I glance over to where Em and Eli are slow dancing together, forehead to forehead, lost in each other and the newness of being a married couple. Liaden and Dean are there, too, laughing together happily as they sway from side to side, in their own little bubble of romance. It hurts. I feel like a self-pitying, self-absorbed old hag for thinking this way, but I can’t seem to help it.
“I’m doing OK,” I finally settle on. Wendy’s wonderful and a bottomless well of empathy, but she has better things to do at her nephew’s wedding than listen to me banging on about my troubles.
She squeezes my arm. “Well, listen, y’all know where I am if you need to talk. And…if you’ll take some advice…keep an open mind.” She smiles mysteriously. “Sometimes, something right under our nose can turn out to be something we always wanted.”
I frown curiously, but she shrugs, moving away again so she can head back towards Kit. Another example of ‘couple goals’: Kit and Wendy’s still-newlywed style adoration of each other. “I’m just sayin’.”
What did she mean by that, I wonder? Thinking on it and coming up empty handed, I take a sip of deliciously cold and refreshing Prosecco, watching the slow dancers hold each other, and smile to myself. It’s just not my turn yet, that’s all. Maybe at the next wedding - my money’s on it being Dean and Liaden, because duh - I’ll have someone to dance with then. Someone who’s mine.
I jump slightly as an arm is slung around my shoulder, and then immediately relax when I see who it is. The sleeves of his white shit have been rolled up over his arms, showing how they’re dusted with golden hairs. I’d know the half-finished tattoo on his wrist anywhere. I stopped halfway through doing it when we had a row about Peter this one time, and somehow we made a silent agreement never to finish it. Fortunately it’s an abstract tribal pattern, so it doesn’t look ridiculous, just smaller than planned.
“Having a breather?” I ask.
Leo shrugs. “For a little while. I needed to bleed the lizard.”
“Eww!” I playfully shove him.
“What?” he laughs. “I’d had three drinks without breaking the seal. It was time.”
“Right, you and your Three Drink Rule.” Skin by Rag ‘n’ Bone Man is playing, and I smile wistfully. “I love this song.” It makes me swoony every time I hear it sung, like all the power of every scrap of love in the singer’s heart is being thrown into it. I can’t imagine how amazing it would have been for whoever the song was written about; they must have felt so seen, so loved.
“Right, then,” he says, grabbing my glass and downing it like the cheeky fucker he is, “my break time is over. Let’s go.”
“Wha…” I say, and he tugs me towards the dance floor. “Oh, no, just because I said…we don’t - ” I start to protest, but he just rolls his eyes at me with a smile.
“Come on, you know you want to,” he teases, lifting my arm to give me another twirl and then pulling me closer, making me giggle.
And yeah, actually, I do want to dance.
He lulls me into a false sense of security at first with some gentle swaying, one hand at the small of my back, the other holding my hand, before the chorus hits. And then he starts turning us, faster and faster, our hips stuck together like magnets. I burst out laughing as I join in, getting dizzy and not caring because I feel so free and light. Typical Leo, taking a bummed out version of me and making her laugh again.
Where on earth would I be without him? Nowhere good. I don’t even want to think about it.
We stop, finally, laughing at each other, and I feel overwhelmed with affection for a moment. If you asked me to pick my all time favourite people, excluding family, Leo would easily be at the top of the list. He makes me laugh every day, challenges me, argues back, cheers me on, and gives me all the hugs I could possibly want. Basically my ideal friend.
His hair is almost out of the tie, so I reach up and tug it free, waving the thin black elastic in front of his face teasingly like I’m going to stop him from tying it back again. But then I notice how soft his hair looks, how it curls at the ends, and… My breath halts. God, he really is the best looking man I know.
Objectively speaking, I mean.
He’s grinning down at me, and I look at his lips, his straight, white teeth, the golden brown beard with darker strands…would it feel soft against my face if I kissed him, or prickly?
Maybe it’s the endorphin rush from the dancing, maybe it’s the wine coursing through my veins, maybe it’s the headiness of the wedding atmosphere. Maybe Wendy’s advice got to me, I don’t know. But without considering it any further, I lift up on my tiptoes and press my lips against his.
Why does he taste so warm and familiar, like home?
Before I can second-guess my sudden impulse, his hand travels up to my face, not to ease me away, but to gently hold me in place. His mouth is moving with mine. Leo is kissing me back . We’re kissing. We’re kissing. Like real lovers. My head is swimming. All I can think about is how good this feels, how simply and meltingly good , and how badly I want more, how much I need this to go on, and on, and on...
And it does.
The kiss builds, gets deeper. His tongue meets mine, and that one illicit, never-dreamt-of touch severs something I didn’t realise was there and makes everything explode. I tangle my fingers in his hair and press my body close to his. He’s hard. I can feel his erection against my belly, and it’s huge . It makes me hungry and thirsty and desperate for something, anything, to relieve this feeling pulling at the centre of me. He knows I need more, and he doesn’t let me down, backing me against one of the tables next to the dancefloor where we all ate just a few hours ago.
It’s like we’ve been taken over by mindless beasts, clawing at each other, a deep and painfully sharp hunger unleashed. My head is cradled in his hands, his fingers pressing into my skull, and he urges me up until I’m sitting on the surface of the wood, opening my legs to allow him closer, his cock grinding at my core until I want to scream with frustration at the fabric separating us. I take it out on his mouth, returning him kiss for kiss, bite for bite, trying to make him as crazed and ravenous and needy as I feel, and oh fuck, I feel like I could come right here, right now, and I want to, if he could just...
“Fucking finally !”
Dimly, through the fog of lust, I hear a voice whooping and cheering.
And it’s like a bucket of cold water over me.
Breaking away abruptly, I look in the direction of the voice. It was Tippi. She’s a few feet away, rolling her fist in the air like she’s at a ball game, alongside an impressed looking Liaden and a full on delighted Em.
I’m damn near dry humping Tippi’s brother, my best friend in all the world, on a table in front of her.
In front of everyone .
At our best friends’ wedding reception .
My stomach falls through the floor as I see how many people have been watching us, some openly, some pretending not to. Our friends, our families, all wearing varying expressions of disbelief, glee, embarrassment, or combinations.
What the fuck did I just do?!
I look up at Leo, and he’s smouldering down at me like he wants to start up kissing me again.
Oh god. Oh no. My Leo…what must he be thinking? How much have I had to drink today to throw myself at him like this, out of nowhere? Have I just wrecked our friendship for good with my mad moment of crazy?
Or…what if he just did it out of habit because that’s who he is: a carefree, adorable man-whore who always kisses a woman back, whoever she may be? My heart sinks to my shoes at the thought.
“I’m…” I croak, and my mouth opens and closes a few times as I struggle to think of the right words to undo this, to turn back time and put us back where we were, to a place where he was still someone I hadn’t used to feel better. The fire in his eyes dims, and is replaced with a look of…
…oh shit. Sadness .
That’s what finally finishes me off.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, wriggling off the table, unable to look at him anymore. And then I do the worst possible thing, but it’s all I can think to do.
I run the hell out of there.