Page 69 of The Layover
Francesca reaches over to give Gemma’s arm a squeeze. Gemma hunkers down smaller, and Francesca glances my way, her eyes bright through the darkness, a pale shade of greyish-blue like hoarfrost. She looks at me plaintively, but I don’t know how to help, what to do.
We are both speechless, because what do you say to something like that?
Some trio we make. The ‘work wife’ plotting to steal the groom, the brother of the bride hoping to call the whole thing off for the family’s sake, and the maid of honour planning to humiliate her best friend in front of dozens of wedding guests.
‘You were really going to do this?’ I ask. ‘Play that video?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t … Fuck, Leon, I don’tknow. I just wanted to get back at her. It’s not like she wouldn’t have gotten over it. It’s not like Marcus wouldn’t have forgiven her. They’re both always flirting with other people …’ She pauses, glancing at Francesca, then snaps her gaze away. ‘And it’s always a drama, but neither of them actuallycares. They both just … It’s an ego thing, youknow? They like knowing they could have anyone they wanted, and they both like being the one who got picked, like it proves they’re the best. It’s this whole back and forth they always do …’
She sighs, lifting her hands to press her face into them. Her glasses bump up to her forehead.
‘The worst part is, I’m sojealousof it. Watching them pick each other again and again and … And …’
She trails off, and is quiet for a long while before Francesca brings her own phone out. She opens the message thread between her and Marcus, leaves it on the table for us to look at. Gemma peeks between her fingers, curiosity getting the better of her.
Francesca takes a deep breath. ‘I suppose they’re made for each other, then. Marcus implied earlier that if I’d been there tonight, we might have … gotten together.’
The words feel like a punch in the chest. But while I’m thinking:That bastard, I knew he was no good, we all said …The part thatreallygets me is the idea of Francesca, wrapped up in Marcus’s arms, his mouth on hers.
Which I have no right to feelanykind of way about. And, again, I remind myself that she chose him; this is exactly what she’s been hoping for.
But she looks so disappointed about it, I can’t help but ask, ‘I thought that was what you wanted?’
‘I want to be the woman he’sin love with, the one he wants to spend his life with. Not a seedy hook-up before he marries someone else. Not the … thefuck-buddyat the office everyone knows about, carrying on an affair. I … want to be the one he picks,’ she adds, glancing at Gemma before looking down at her lap.
Gemma snorts softly and shakes her head.
And Francesca sits there looking small and sorry for herself and sad and somehow,still hopeful, like this might still turn outto be the epic romance she’s been imagining this whole time, like Marcus hasn’t proved completely and absolutely what a tool he is, and something in me snaps.
‘Why?’ I ask her. My voice comes out sharper and louder than I meant for it to. She startles, looking up at me, and even Gemma sits up a bit straighter to watch. ‘Why? He’s shown you who he is, what he’s like. He’s shown you a thousand fucking times, I bet, and you keep refusing to see it. He’s been stringing you along to feed his ego, like Gem said, and you don’t even seem tocare. You let him. If he was going to pick you, you don’t think he would’ve had the guts to break up with Kay and tell you he wanted to be with you – when it’s so bloody obvious you’d pick him? He made his choice, and it wasn’t you. It’s like you don’t have a single ounce of self-respect or—’
‘Leon,’ Gemma says, and it’s a warning I ignore.
How long has Kayleigh been stringing all ofusalong? How long have we chosen not to see it, turned a blind eye to the thousand tiny ways she’s rebuffed and rejected us? Francescahasto see that’s what Marcus has been doing to her all this time. How can shestillwant to choose him? This isn’t family she’s beholden to, this is … it’s just someguy. She should take the out and run a fucking mile, and be grateful for it.
‘He’s a piece of shit!’ I exclaim. ‘Half the things you’ve said about him tonight, it’s like you’re embarrassed to own up to it, because youknow– and you’re still pursuing him. If you think Kay deserves him, what do you think it says about you?’
‘Leon.’
‘You’re a joke to him! If you heard the way he talks about you – thework wife– you wouldn’t be this delusional, acting like there’sanyworld in which he actually fancies you. He talks about you like you’re ajoke. And I bet if you had made it there tonight, you would’ve shagged him, and then you’d watch him walk down the aisle and keep fooling yourself into thinking youstill had a chance. You let him walk all over you! Where’s your sense of self-worth? Why can’t yousee, he’s never going to pick you?’
Francesca’s breath hitches when I at last pause to catch mine, and before I can blink, she’s scrambling to get over Gemma and out of the booth, and running for the door.
‘Well, you fucked that up royally, didn’t you?’ Gemma tells me.
‘I just … I—’
The door slams as Francesca runs out, and I’m already getting up and tripping over my satchel when Gemma says, ‘Go after her, you big idiot!Fix it.’
Chapter Thirty-three
Francesca
The terminal looks almost empty compared to earlier, and the crush of movement that drove us upstairs has fallen into a near-silent lull. The dads have disbanded; I can see them scattered sullenly in different corners of the terminal, all a bit dishevelled and browbeaten. Nobody pays me any attention as I fling myself down the last couple of stairs and make a break for the toilets, fully intending to shut myself inside a cubicle and sob my heart out.
Because – oh, he’s right, isn’t he? Leon’sright.
If Marcus was going to choose me …
