Page 30 of The Layover
Leon says, ‘Always playing devil’s advocate—’
‘He enjoys a healthy debate!’
‘You can do that without belittling everybody around you – something he’s never bothered to learn how to do and clearly doesn’t care about, either. You know he had my mum in tears after he left once, lecturing us on veganism and how we were all contributing to the ruin of the environment for the nextgeneration – even sayingmaybe that was why my dad got sick. And then he’s there not two days later, out with some people, hunting. Forsport. And posting photos of the pheasant they ate, after.’
‘He – well, that …’ That can’t be the whole story. Can it? Maybe Leon and Kayleigh’s mum said something aggravating, or got the wrong end of the stick. Although Marcusdoeslove playing devil’s advocate to stir up a chat, can come off a bit … a bitbrusquesometimes. Even I can admit that sounds like him.
A leaden weight settles in the pit of my stomach and there’s a tremble in my hands as I reach for my drink.
‘He’s not a bad person,’ I say, and my voice is a bit wobbly, too. I try again. ‘I’m not saying he’s perfect, nobody is, but you don’t know him like I do. He’s sweet, and caring, and funny—’
Both Gemma and Leon scoff at that.
I only dig my heels in harder. They don’t know. Theydon’t.
‘He can light up the whole room when he walks in—’
‘He’s an attention seeker,’ Leon insists. ‘Hedemandsthat attention, doesn’t earn it or deserve it.’
‘And he can make you feel so special, like the most important person—’
‘Yeah, because here’s this raging narcissist giving you the time of day.’
Gemma, again, makes a noise of agreement at that, nodding along.
I say, ‘Maybe he’s got a bit of a – a polished, hard exterior, but he’s not like that deep down, not really. He’s such a softie, has such a big heart—’
‘One,’ Leon snaps. ‘Give me one example. Go on.’
He sits up straighter, and Gemma has an elbow on the table, cheek on her fist again, watching our exchange like a tennis match – though it’s abundantly clear she’s rooting for Leon, is on his side. I’m not sure if that’s because they both hate me asthe other woman, or because she really doesn’t think much of Marcus either.
Isn’t that a sign, that he and Kayleigh aren’t right for each other? If her own brother and her best friend don’t like him? Are quite literally fighting toprovehow dislikeable he is?
Leon taps the open notebook.
‘I’ve got pages of instances he’s offended or upset our family here, and that barely scratches the surface. So go on. Give meoneexample of a time he was such a glowing example of a good human being.’
I open my mouth and falter, mind racing, reeling.
It’s only because there are so many, though. It’s like when someone asks you to name a book you like, and you suddenly forget the title of any book in existence.
How am I supposed to choose just one?
And how am I supposed to find therightone – one that proves he isn’t worthy of their hate, but isn’t so convincing that it makes Leon think Marcusshouldmarry Kayleigh. It’s mean and scheming and feels wrong, but I know that it is, ultimately, helpful if he doesn’t want the wedding to go ahead either.
It’s someone on my side, if not in my corner.
Where to even start?
‘He always tells me to text him that I’m home safe, after a work night out,’ I say, but that’s – no, that’s not enough, is it? That’s too ordinary. ‘He always picks up the tab if we go for lunch or anything, and he always holds the door, which is …’Chivalrous, I want to say, but it’s still not big enough.
I reel off more, knowing one will strike gold. He compliments my outfits or hair sometimes, noticing if it’s something new. He makes sure I’m included in casual after-work outings, always sends me things he’s seen online or out and about that remind him of me, he’s stood up for me in tough meetings a couple of times with senior managers, he always brings me cake when—
Oh, no, that’s something I do for him. One of our little rituals. I bring him a slice of cake whenever there’s a birthday cake in the office. It’s a nice excuse to see him and talk for a few minutes, and he always looks so happy to see me.
Gemma’s face creases, lines carving across her forehead and her mouth downturned as she grimaces.
Of course I’m not helping his case, I think; this isn’t doing anything except showcasing all the ways he gives me attention he probably shouldn’t be, drives home the emotional affair we’ve been conducting, and that’s not going to paint him in a good light at all.
