The Guilt Trip(53)

Rachel smiles. “That’s ridiculous.”

Paige knocks back half her glass, closing her eyes as the effervescence tickles her senses. “What’s even more ridiculous is that when we got to the ‘If any person here knows of any just cause why these two should not be joined together,’ I was honestly waiting for you to stand up and shout, ‘It should be me!’”

Rachel chokes on her champagne, in the hope that it will distract from the color that is flushing her cheeks.

“What? With my husband and toddler by my side?” Rachel laughs, but she can’t help but think it sounds false.

“That was before we became good friends and I got to know you properly,” says Paige, making Rachel feel even worse, if that was at all possible.

Unable to stop the tears springing to her eyes, she turns to look out the kitchen window, toward the ocean that is shimmering in the midday sun.

“Hey, hey,” says Paige, going to her, sensing something’s wrong. “What’s up?”

Where would she start? How can she tell Paige that the problem that had seemed insurmountable twenty-four hours ago is now the least of her worries? That, if Ali so chooses, she, Paige, Jack and Noah could be about to have their worlds blown apart? She can’t help but acknowledge that however big a mountain looks, when you put it against a bigger one, you realize how easy the first one is to climb in comparison.

“Is this about Ali?” presses Paige.

Rachel nods. “I think you might be right,” she says, sniffing.

“About?” asks Paige, looking at her blankly.

“I think there might be something going on between Ali and Jack.”

Paige’s hands drop to Rachel’s sides and her jaw spasms involuntarily.

“I … I can’t say for certain,” Rachel goes on, falteringly. “I’m not a hundred percent, but there’s so much that points in that direction, that I have to face the possibility.”

“Is it because of what I overheard last night?” asks Paige. “Because I’ve thought about that and they could have been talking about anybody. I bet half the men in that restaurant are having affairs and keeping it from their wives.” She attempts to laugh.

“There’s been other stuff too,” says Rachel. “Stuff I haven’t told you about.”

Paige narrows her eyes. “Namely?”

“I saw her coming out of our room yesterday,” says Rachel. “When we got back from shopping.”

“What?” exclaims Paige, holding Rachel at arm’s length.

Rachel nods. “It could have been nothing, but when I walked in a few minutes later, Jack was wearing nothing more than a towel.”

Paige’s mouth drops open, rendering her momentarily speechless.

“And then I found Jack’s watch—the one I gave him for our anniversary—hidden in a drawer in her room.”

“I’ll fucking kill the pair of them,” seethes Paige.

“That’s not going to solve anything,” says Rachel, attempting to smile.

“I am not going to stand by and let this carry on,” says Paige. “She’s supposed to be getting married today, for God’s sake.”

“I know, I know,” says Rachel, already wishing she’d kept it all to herself. It will only serve to complicate matters now that Paige is on the case, as she won’t let anyone get away with anything.

“Have you confronted Jack? Asked him how he can possibly justify what he’s doing to his brother?”

Rachel doesn’t want to tell her that she’s already tested the waters and he just used it as an opportunity to throw Noah back in her face.

She shakes her head. “I think I should talk to Ali first.”

“Why?” asks Paige. “It’s Jack you should be focusing on. He’s your husband. Ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s playing at.”

Rachel sniffs. “I don’t know what to do.”

Paige’s arms wrap around Rachel and she falls onto her shoulder. “I’ll deal with this,” she says, her voice icy.

Visions of Paige storming across the wedding reception to confront Jack and Ali are all too easy for Rachel to conjure up. Never one to avoid a confrontation, especially with Jack, she can imagine Paige’s distorted features as she jabs a finger into his chest, telling him how her best friend is too good for him, and that if he thought half as much with his head as he did his dick, he’d realize that too.

“Look, we don’t have proof yet,” says Rachel. “I don’t have proof yet.”

“You saw her coming out of your room,” says Paige, sounding exasperated. “She’s all over him every chance she gets; she’s forever alluding to some kind of private joke; she bought him a cock, for Christ’s sake.”

“It was a rooster,” offers Rachel, as if it makes a difference.

Any one of those, in isolation, wouldn’t have caused Rachel a second thought, especially when it involved someone as outgoing and gregarious as Ali. But collectively …

“And have you thought that the whole passport charade at the airport might have been exactly just that—a charade?” Paige goes on.

Rachel doesn’t need to have the dots pointed out to her; she’s already joined them up herself. “I don’t want you getting involved,” she says. “This isn’t your problem.”