The Road Trip(97)

Addie lets go of my hand for a moment to shake my father’s; he looks her up and down, and his expression is so blatantly critical that I start to tremble with a familiar quiet rage.

‘I remember hearing about you,’ Dad says as he shakes Addie’s hand. ‘Taken him back, have you?’ He shoots a grin at Marcus. ‘Joel told me you two had fallen out – you’ve done the same, then? Taken my son back?’

‘It wasn’t quite like that, Miles,’ Marcus says, voice pleasant.

My father’s eyebrows rise. ‘No?’

‘No. It wasn’t so much a falling-out as a—’

‘Fisticuffs, eh?’ my father interrupts, nodding to the bruises on Marcus’s face. ‘But no. Can’t have been my Dylan who punched you, he doesn’t have it in him.’

Addie slips her hand into mine again.

‘Would you just shut up, actually,’ Marcus says, ‘and let me speak?’

There is a vast, shocked silence. I look at Marcus, expecting to see that his mood has shifted with its usual irrational speed, but it’s not that, he’s not angry: he’s clearly trying hard not to cry.

‘Your dad needs to know what sort of man you are, Dylan.’

Marcus is hardly ever serious, not really serious; there’s always the suggestion he might just be taking the piss, or winding you up, or playing a part that’ll slide away in less than a minute. On the rare occasions when he really cares about what he’s saying, his voice is completely different – smoother and less drawling. It’s like that now.

‘I did things that Dylan hated – I ruined the best thing in his life – but he didn’t give me up for good.’ He’s looking at my father, unblinking. ‘He’s always shown me that all I need to do to be worthy of his friendship is to try. And to say sorry.’

‘Marcus . . .’

He looks at me and Addie.

‘And I am. Sorry. I’m not good at saying it, but I’m trying with that too.’

‘This is all rather dramatic,’ my dad says with distaste, as I turn towards Marcus and meet his eyes. They’re wet and frightened, and somehow very bare.

I reach with my free arm to hug him but he steps away, shaking his head, not done.

‘Do you know what an achievement it is, to turn out that way growing up in your house?’ Marcus says to my father, straightening up. He meets my dad’s gaze like it’s no effort at all, like he isn’t even frightened. ‘Do you know what it takes to be a good man when someone’s always told you you’re not good enough?’

My father stiffens. ‘Marcus,’ he says warningly.

I know that tone; it turns me cold.

‘No, I know what you’re about to say, and fuck your job,’ Marcus says, swiping an arm across his face. ‘I’ll find something else. I’m not working for you when you’re still looking at Dylan like that. When you still treat Luke like he’s less. Christ. What a spineless, bigoted bully you are.’

My father’s eyes flash and it makes my throat tighten instantly, like the air’s thickened, clogging in the back of my mouth. He takes a step towards Marcus; Addie and I withdraw, and I hear her breathe in sharply, but Marcus doesn’t even flinch. He laughs.

‘Well,’ he says. ‘I’ll leave you to get to know Addie.’

Marcus turns to meet Addie’s eyes. He looks very tired, but that fire’s still there even now, that quintessential Marcus energy that never quite runs dry.

‘She’s a better person than you or I could ever be,’ he says, ‘and Dylan’s lucky to have her.’





Addie

I don’t know what to do with myself. My eyes are pricking with tears. Dylan’s holding my hand so tight it aches as we watch Marcus walk away, his shoulders hunched. She’s a better person than you or I could ever be.

I’ve carried all that crap Marcus said about me for so long. How I wasn’t good for Dylan. As if I had something bad in me, like I was holding a live grenade. It tainted me even before Etienne tried to break me.

Now I think he was right, in his way. I could have hurt Dylan a thousand ways, and sometimes I came close – sometimes my foot slipped. Back then, when we all met, I could have been that woman, and maybe that woman would have loved a man like Marcus. Maybe that woman would have kissed Etienne back.

But I know who I am, now. I’m the woman who holds Dylan’s hand tight and looks up at the father he was always too afraid to introduce me to. The man whose contempt for the two of us is drawn on every grey inch of his face.

‘Well,’ I say to Miles Abbott. ‘I don’t expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, unless you’re going to take a leaf out of Marcus’s book and ask for your son’s forgiveness. But it’s been a pleasure to see you. As in, it’s been a pleasure to see you get totally demolished.’ I flash him a grin, then turn to Dylan. ‘Come on, Dyl. We’ve got a wedding crasher to catch.’



Dylan’s shaking as we wind our way through the corridors in search of the bridal preparation chamber. He tries calling his brother, but Luke doesn’t pick up, and that seems to make Dylan’s shaking even worse.

‘Hey, you’re OK,’ I say, pausing for a moment. Our hands are still linked. ‘You did it. You saw him and walked away.’