Page 17 of The Layover
Ihaveto be brave enough. Don’t I owe that to both of us? Shouldn’t he know, before he commits to somebody else for the rest of his life?
I’ve been staring off into the distance, and a noise at the next table draws me back. Gemma is still chattering away, swiping across something on her phone as she does so – Instagram, it looks like – but Leon only seems to be paying her the bare minimum attention.
He’s too busy frowning at me.
He’s actually quite attractive, if only he didn’t look like such a miserable, bad-tempered grouch. He holds my gaze even after I catch him looking, and the deep breath he takes as he straightens up in his chair feels pointed, somehow, like he’s trying to tell me something.
I don’t know him well enough to understand what point he’s making, but I do know it makes my own temper spike again – hot and sharp and raw, the taste of it acidic and unfamiliar in my mouth. Why does he have to be so hateful? Is this why he’s not on Kayleigh’s socials; she decided to cut his horrid attitude out of her life and not make time for him?
He’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t like me. He soundedverydisdainful when he said I was ‘the work wife’, which I think I’d be a lot more offended about if I didn’t secretly thrill at the implications of that. That he thinks I’m athreat. Whatever Marcus says about me … Leon must have caught on to the fact that I matter to him.
Maybe there are cracks in Marcus and Kayleigh’s relationship that run deeper than he’s let on. Leon must know that, too, but has chosen to resentmefor it, blameme, instead of simply accepting that they aren’t right for each other.
That’s got to be it.
Yes, I think, I’mdefinitelydoing the right thing by confessing my feelings to Marcus before the wedding.
But even as I cling to that thought, my shoulders hunch, and I have to look away from the weight of Leon’s stare, suddenly too much to bear.
Time until ‘I Do’
16 hours
Chapter Ten
Gemma
By some miracle, we’ve whiled away a whopping thirty-eight minutes with our drinks, and it reallyisa miracle, because Francesca is dull as ditchwater, barely evenlisteningnever mind saying anything, and Leon is doing his best impression of a Neanderthal, doing little more than grunting when spoken to.
I know it’s his sister’s wedding and he’s missing out on a family reunion tonight, but he really needs to chill out.I’mthe one who’ll get it in the neck from Kayleigh when she finds something that isn’t going perfectly and wants me to come in and argue with somebody to fix it.I’mthe one who’s supposed to be doing a last-minute check of the seating chart and making sure all the guests have arrived okay and that the flowers are correct and the caterers have everything in hand, and …
Speak of the devil.
My phone starts buzzing across the tabletop. ‘BITCH’, it says, with a sparkle emoji.
‘Ohmigod, it’s her. I’ll be back!’ I leap up with my phone in hand, hurrying away from the food court to try to find somewhere quieter. The concourse is packed now, and there’s a huge queue at the little coffee shop at the top of the escalators, so I head downstairs as I answer the call.
‘Hang on, it’s crazy loud here! One sec, babe.’
As I do a quick scan of the area – it’s a circular space lined by shops, the only exception passport control and the gates, but I find an empty hallway behind me, and dart down it. I think it leads to the loos.
Kayleigh is already talking anyway, somehow managing to hit that weird combination of hissingandshrill she’s always been so good at.
‘I cannot believe this, Gem! Delayed?All night?Are you kidding me? What am I going to do? You were supposed to be here! This isexactlywhy I thought you should’ve come out the other day, or atleastgot the morning flight out –’
Easy for her to say, when half the reason I couldn’t get the time off is because I’ve been picking upherwork while she’s out of the office, and I can’t even complain aboutthatbecause it turns out she’s the one who got the fucking promotion.
It’s now officiallymy jobto pick up the slack for her.
She’s still going, so I wait for her to pause for breath, only half listening as she panics about all the potential things that could go wrong between now and tomorrow morning, repeating how I should’ve taken the morning flight, then throwing in a few crocodile tears while saying she’s so upset I’m not going to make it to the ‘rehearsal dinner’.
I don’t even know where she’s gotten that from. There’s norehearsalof anything. It’s just that everybody who’s flying in would have been there anyway. A few people who’ve booked hotels in Barcelona city are taxiing in for the evening to see friends and family, make the most of it. All Kayleigh did was arrange cocktail hour for anybody who wanted to join.
I say Kayleigh; I mean, she toldmeto organise it with the hotel.
Maybe if I hadn’t been lumped with so much of her wedding planning, I might not have looked so burnt out at work, andthey would’ve given me the promotion. There’s a joke in there somewhere, I’m sure. I’m the punchline.
Then she says, ‘Honestly, I shouldn’t have evenbotheredwith that massage this afternoon. What a waste of time.’
