Page 73 of The Layover
He sets off the automatic flush. Some of the water splashes up onto the seat of his jeans.
‘Excuse me!’ shrills a posh voice on the other side of the door.
Leon cuts me a look, eyes narrowing and head angling as if to say,Don’t you dare, even as a hint of mischief tugs at the corners of his lips.
I stuff a fist into my mouth, unable to look away. His eyebrows tug lower as if to warn me to stay quiet, and I am barely holding it together anymore. Leon bites the inside of his cheek, shaking as he tries not to laugh too.
‘Stop it,’ he hisses, ‘I’m gonna fall.’
Oh, he is, any moment – and he’s at such an odd angle, I wouldn’t be surprised if he drops right into the toilet rather than simply onto the seat. I take pity, trying to manoeuvre myself underneath one of his arms to help him up, which has us both staggering about in a bundle of flailing limbs, fighting to keep our balance. Leon trips forward, but when I fling my arm forward to try to catch him, he’s already caught himself and instead his head collides right with my elbow.
I let out a strangled yelp at the judder that goes all the way up my arm from my funny bone, and Leon groans.
The woman outside our cubicle gives a scandalised cry. ‘I don’t know who’s in there, but this is apublic space! There arechildrenaround! You shouldnotbe fornicating in there! This is diabolical! You should be ashamed of yourselves, the pair of you! And in atoilet!’
Posh lady smacks the door a few more times before harrumphing.
‘I should fetch security on the pair of you. This is absolutely shameless! And leaving your clothes strewn all about the floor, too!’
My denim jacket comes hurtling over the top of the door. I fumble to catch it, feeling suitably chastised even as the lady storms out before we can argue that we weren’t doing anything wrong.
I don’tthinkwe were, anyway.
Although for a moment there …
For a moment, it did almost get quite close to … tosomething…
What am I doing? Crying over a man who’s about to marry someone else, locked in an airport toilet with the bride’s brother? Whathasmy life come to? I’m sure this part wasn’t in any of the romcom films building up to an epic grand gesture and a declaration of romance.
Defeated, and feeling less an idiot and more completely at sea, I unlock the door and say, ‘Come on, I suppose we’d better go before shedoesgo and get security.’
Time until ‘I Do’
8 hours
Chapter Thirty-four
Gemma
I play the video again, watching Kayleigh snog the silver, nearly naked cowboy, waiting to feel something.Anything. A flicker of resentment. Just a little glimmer of jealousy. A tiny drop of bitterness.
But I don’t feel any of that stuff, and my phone screen flashes up a reminder that my battery is down to ten per cent. I dismiss it and let the video play again.
I can’t even conjure up the sweet, sweet mental image of the carnage it would unleash at the wedding if it played on the screen during my positively saccharine (but frankly hilarious) speech.
There’s just …
Nothing.
There’s just me, in this huge, empty, dark room, in the dead of night, with nothing to lose and … andnothing, period.
Just like I worried would happen if I ever tried to confront Kayleigh, she’s already won our friends over to her side, tarnished my name with what I’m willing to bet are a thousand little white lies.
Oh, Gemma can’t make it to drinks to celebrate my new job! She must be so upset she didn’t get it, poor thing; let’s not mentionthe fact I didn’t invite her and she still doesn’t know I got the promotion.
Gemma put work above coming to my wedding; poor little pushover Gemma trying so hard to make her best pal happy just to feel a scrap of love; selfish nasty stuck-up Gemma …
I bet I know exactly the story Kayleigh’s been pushing.
