Page 21 of The Layover
I glance at Francesca, who is people-watching once more.
She doesn’t even seemthat bad, which somehow makes it worse. Unless the cutesy innocent nice-girl thing is all an act? It’s got to be. Kayleigh’s never hadanythinggood to say about her; I should be on my guard, watch for her to slip up. That’s what a good brother would do, right? Help find some ammunition to evict the work wife from Marcus’s life permanently.
Or, maybe, find evidence that there reallyissomething going on between the two of them, and use it as ammunition to stop the wedding going ahead altogether …
Gemma’s still gone when Francesca’s phone buzzes. It’s lying flat on the table, and we’re so crammed in that when I glance over automatically, I can clearly see it’s a text from Marcus. Alongone, by the looks of it.
She snatches it up, but not like she’s trying to hide it.
Like she’s just excited to hear from him.
And – I see it. Iseethat giddy look on her face, the brightness that sparks in her eyes as she devours his text, a faint dusting of pink colouring her cheeks.
That’snotthe reaction of someone who’s ‘just a friend’.
I can’t resist a dig. Testing the waters, a little. ‘Boyfriend?’
Now, she flushes, all the way down her neck. She pulls the phone a bit tighter to her, eyes widening. She knows she’s been caught out.
‘N-no. No, nothing like that. It’s … it’s just Marcus. Replying about how we’re all delayed.’
I nod, and it’s like another tally on the board against him.
‘He’s just worried,’ she goes on, the words running together a bit too quickly. ‘Because of the weather. If we’ll all make it. Because we’re missing out on everything tonight.’
‘Sure.’
‘It’s not …’ Francesca swallows, trailing off, and I can’t help but smirk at her expense.Not what?I want to press. Not what it looks like? Not like she isn’t harbouring a crush on a guy who’sabout to be married, inserting herself into a relationship that doesn’t concern her? She squirms in her seat. She’sgotto know how guilty she looks.
What is she even doing, coming to this wedding?
Is she really going to stand around flirting with the groom, cosying up to him any time she can get close enough? Is she going to be one of those women who wear a white dress to someone else’s wedding and end up on Reddit? Is she only doing this to humiliate Kay? Francesca can’t be oblivious, even if Marcus is.
Are they in on it together? Is it an affair?
If Marcus was going to dump Kay for his ‘work wife’, I wish he’d done it months ago, before we got to this point. I wouldn’t be sorry to see him go. Maybe then, we’d get Kay back.
Something burns, boils, in my chest. Angry and corrosive.
I reallyhateMarcus. Not just for what he’s doing to Kay, but for what he’s doing to our whole family. And whatever part Francesca is playing in it – I hate her for it, too.
She tries again. ‘We’re … just …’
‘Bestfriends,’ I say. ‘Right. I remember.’
This time, when the silence settles, it’s charged, tense. Both of us are on high alert, neither of us saying a word.
Gemma sweeps back over to the table, jostling her way through the gap behind me to get back into the booth and throwing herself down there with a melodramatic sigh. Shedumps her phone on the table, not noticing the tension crackling between me and Francesca.
‘Phew! Well, that didn’t go as badly as I thought it would.’
I swivel towards her, and that anger is still there, poison in my veins. ‘Is my sister saved as “bitch” in your phone?’
Gemma blinks, owlish behind her glasses.
‘With asparkle emoji.’
I grunt, not sure that’s really an answer, and then she mutters under her breath, ‘Besides, it’s not like it isn’ttrue.’
