Page 29 of Away With You
“You can all move on without me.” I throw off my duvet, too annoyed now to remain lying down. “It’s not me causing the trouble; I’m staying out of George’s way.”
“That’s the problem,” she screeches. “You are refusing to attend your own brother’s wedding.”
“Because he’s bloody marrying my ex!” I explode. “How do you not understand this?”
My chest heaves, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. This woman is my mother; how can she be so heartless?
“You didn’t love Victoria. You’re just being difficult. If you could move on, date someone else, it would work out for everyone. You could attend your brother’s wedding, and we can all move past all this unpleasantness.”
If one were to look up the embodiment of ‘head in the sand’, my mother’s picture would be there.
“I have to go, Mother.”
“Will you at least think about what I’ve said? About moving on? It would be good for you, too…”
I swipe at my phone, disconnecting the call before slumping back onto my bed. It’s not even 7.00 a.m. and my Saturday has gone to crap. This is what I get for answering my phone: an argument with the woman who walks through life oblivious to who she’s hurting, as long as she keeps up appearances.
Propping myself up on one elbow, I pull up the article my mother had sent me and study the image of me and Katie together. In the photo, her hair is lush and heavy down her back, and with the tip of my finger, I trace over it. Ever since running into her a week ago, I’ve found myself somewhat obsessed with her hair. Whenever I’m near her, I have to hold myself back from reaching out and touching it, to see if it feels as soft as it looks. The rich colour, the way it waves around her face and over her shoulders. It’s something I’m dreaming about. One of the many things about Katie that has found their way into my dreams.
“Tea,” I mutter under my breath, scrubbing my face and turning off my phone. “I need a cup of tea.”
Stalking to the kitchen, my energy off-kilter, I find Rosie slumped against the marble bench top, her head propped up sleepily on one hand.
“Rough night?” I ask. My sister sometimes crashes here after a night out with her friends, so happening upon her like this, panda eyes and dishevelled, is not uncommon.
“Hmmhmm,” she mumbles, her eyes glued shut. “Need tea.”
I look around. She may need tea, but she’d done nothing to make it happen.
“Shall I get that for you, Your Highness?”
She smiles and nods, her eyes still closed. “That would be fine.”
Grumbling under my breath about needing a new family, I get to work boiling the water and assembling the teapot. Once done, I pop two crumpets in the toaster and grab a pot of Rosie’s favourite organic honey out of the pantry. If it’s one thing I learnt from many, many years of hangovers, it’s that there’s nothing better than tea and crumpets to settle a woozy stomach.
“Bless you,” she moans into her teacup several minutes later.
I smile at her. She may be a bit of a spoilt princess, but she’s the only member of my family who really cares for me. In this great George divide, she’s one hundred per cent on my side.
“So, I heard from Mother this morning,” I tell her once the green has faded from her complexion, leaving a mere pale white colour in its wake. “That was fun.”
She blanches further. “What did she want?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. A reminder of my familial obligation to play nice with George, mixed with a big helping of guilt for making her life difficult. She saw a photo in a gossip mag of me and Katie at dinner last night and was thrilled that I’ve, and I quote, ‘finally moved on.’”
This gets my sister’s attention. “You went out on a date with Katie last night?”
I take in her now beaming face, her hangover forgotten.
“No, I went out to dinner last night with Katie. As friends, I guess.”
Her pout matches my mental one. It’s never been hard for me to get women to date me. That sounds conceited, but it’s a fact. I grew up rich and conventionally good-looking; add in the famous athlete title, and women swarm to be with me. Every woman, except for Katie, who is happy to have me around while she eats.
Ouch.
“What are you doing? You should totally date Katie!”
I know.
