A Christmas Wedding(6)

He reaches past me to grab his coffee from the counter, and, at the same time, we hear a knock on the door.

‘I’ll get it.’ I open the door to find Fliss before me, looking a bit worse for wear, but still gorgeous. Her dark hair is pulled up into a high, tousled bun and her big brown eyes stare out at me from behind a thick fringe. We’re around the same height at five foot seven.

‘Hey,’ she says in a huskier voice than usual.

‘With you in a sec,’ Lachie calls from the kitchen.

‘Good night?’ I raise one eyebrow at her and lean against the doorframe.

She smirks. ‘Could say that.’

‘Did you shag him?’ Lachie asks with a grin, materialising at my side, coffee cup still in hand.

‘No, I did not!’ she replies mock-indignantly. ‘What sort of a girl do you think I am?’

He shrugs and grins and my insides clench. There’s something about this girl that makes warning bells go off in my head.

‘I thought you were desperate,’ he teases.

Has she been divulging to my boyfriend how much she wants sex?

She rolls her eyes at him. ‘Not that desperate.’

‘You could do worse than Elliot,’ I chip in, feeling suddenly defensive of our friend.

She screws her nose up. ‘He’s way too old for me.’

Cheeky bitch! I know I said the same thing last night, but now I feel like she’s implying that I’m too old for my boyfriend.

‘Come on, Lochness, time to go,’ she urges.

Lachie is actually pronounced Lockie, and, somewhere along the line, Fliss got the idea of nicknaming him after the Loch Ness monster. Lachie and I met in Scotland, while Fliss has never even been to Europe, but that’s not why I find the nickname irritating. I hate how familiar and cutesy this girl is with my boyfriend. And Lachie, who has always been a flirt, doesn’t discourage her.

Lachie downs his coffee and plonks the cup on the table, picking up his guitar case and bending down to peck me on the lips. ‘Have a good day,’ he says.

‘You too,’ I reply.

I watch him follow Fliss down the external staircase. The frown is still etched onto my forehead when I return indoors.

Elliot texts me at eleven, wondering if I’m free for brunch. I reply that I am, glad to have something to take my mind off yesterday’s email. I went back to bed after Lachie left, but couldn’t sleep for my mind ticking over.

We meet up at a café across the road from Manly Beach. Elliot is already at a table when I arrive, looking decidedly worse than Fliss did at six o’clock this morning. His normally tanned skin is washed out and pasty and he’s resting his darkly stubbled jaw on his hand. He smiles up at me, wearily.

‘Hungover?’ I ask the obvious question.

‘Not really,’ he replies, to my surprise, as I take a seat opposite him. ‘Miserable more than anything.’

‘Oh, El,’ I say with sympathy, reaching across to touch his hand. His eyes fill up with tears.

‘Christ!’ he mumbles, averting his gaze with embarrassment. ‘I should’ve stayed at home.’

‘No, it’s good that you came out. Have you ordered yet?’

‘Just a coffee.’

On cue, the waitress brings it over. I order a latte for myself and turn my attention back to Elliot, who’s in the process of upending three sachets of sugar into his drink.

‘How was last night?’ I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

He shrugs. ‘It was all right.’

‘Anything happen with Fliss?’

‘Nah, we just went dancing. She’s not into me like that.’

‘I think she has a crush on Lachie.’

‘He only has eyes for you,’ he replies without missing a beat.

‘So she does like him, doesn’t she?’

‘I don’t know, Bron.’ He looks awkward, all of a sudden.

I try to ignore the niggling feeling in my stomach as I pick up the menu.

‘Have you spoken to Bridget?’ he asks when we’ve ordered.

‘Last night,’ I reply quietly.

He shakes his head and picks up his coffee, taking a large, scalding mouthful and wincing. ‘It’s too soon,’ he states, putting his cup down a little too firmly on the wooden table.

‘She seems pretty sure about him.’

‘Yeah,’ he says bitterly. His blue eyes dart up to meet mine. ‘Why didn’t she ever tell me she wanted a kid?’ He sounds anguished.

‘I’m not sure even she knew it. But would it have made a difference? I thought you were set on not having children.’

‘Yeah, I was. I am. I just… I don’t know. We could have at least talked about it.’

‘And said what? She was happy with you, El. She was. But maybe she didn’t know what she really wanted until it was right there in front of her.’

‘I should’ve proposed to her sooner.’

‘Do you think it would have made a difference?’

Elliot doesn’t answer, but he looks downcast.

‘Maybe this is what you needed to hear to move on,’ I say gently, my thoughts jumping unwelcomingly to Alex.

I wonder if he’s moved on… Did he remarry? Does he have a girlfriend? Children?