Page 162 of The Home Grown
“I thought you should know because it’s not right, is it? I mean, I know this Greg guy sounds like a complete ass, but no one deserves that. No one.”
“You’re not making any sense,” I say. “Kathryn’s cheating? With who?”
“Rick Langdon. I saw them at the hotel together. You know, the one we were staying at for the Team GB stuff … and I thought I recognised her, but I haven’t seen your sister in such a long time I?—”
“Right,” I say. “Well, I guess it makes sense. I mean, it’s just something she’ddo,right? Sleep with her fiancé’s best man.”
I let the words float in the air as I wait forsomething … anythingto make sense. I wait to feel—to feel angry, upset, deceived, but instead of those things … I burst out laughing. A hard laugh that comes right from my stomach, causing my eyes to water.
Because the whole thing is just … Kathryn.Snide and vindictive. And completelyKathryn.
“Kitch—”
I’m in hysterics, cackling in a way that has me gasping for air while Mike watches on in confused-horror. Like he wants to join in but doesn’t at the same time.
“Kitch?”
“You know why this is so funny?” I ask once I’ve composed myself. “Because it isn’t funny at all, really.”
“Do you think we should tell Greg?” Mike asks. “Because I’ve been cheated on before and?—”
“No,” I say.
“No?”
“No. Because he won’t believe us. He’s so invested in whatever him and Kathryn have, he won’t believe us—well, he won’t believe me, anyway. He’ll assume I’m trying to sabotage their wedding.”
Mike nods. “I guess that makes sense. Ruined nail polishanda wedding? What’s next for Eleanor Kitchener?”
“Eleanor Betts,” I say.
Mike stares at me, a flicker of something in his eyes before he breaks out into a smile, though only for a second before his face falls.
“What?” I say.
“This is?—”
“Is it too much? I mean, I don’t have to use it, I?—”
“No, no, it’s not that.” He reaches for my other hand, pulling me closer to him and planting a kiss on my lips. Heat ripples through me. “I really like it … like, I really fucking like it. But, my mam called…”
“Yeah?”
“She’s been up in the attic, and she found my old paperwork and boxes and stuff.”
I lean back to look at him. “Oh, my God. Do you know if?—”
“No, no. And neither does she. She said she’s brought them down and put them in the spare room, ready for when I can visit and look. I take it as a kick up the ass. No more hanging back.”
“Right.” I look down at our hands. Ourrings.
“Hey,” he breaks his right hand free, placing his index finger under my chin and lifting my head, meeting my eyes. “We said that we’ll deal with whatever it is, yeah? And it doesn’t have to change anything, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Now let’s get a brew.”
BETTSY
