Page 94 of The Truth About You and Me
The whole room erupts, claps and cheers, seats pushed back as they all hug and shake hands.
I don’t know what to do with myself other than to smile and say congratulations from my seat and tentatively take a glass of champagne once the corks start popping.
‘I have an idea!’ Charl leans forward, dipping a breadstick into a pot of something that I think might be hummus. ‘We should have a party! Tonight!’
My stomach jolts, my hand drawing the glass close to my chest. I want to look at Jack, to tell him this is too much, but I can’t do that. They should have a party if they want to, and he should be here, celebrating with his family, not being forced to run away from it. I’m the one who should be leaving.
‘Actually, we’re going to get going—’ Jack interrupts, taking his seat, but I don’t miss the way he leans away from me slightly.
The room feels like its closing in.
‘Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Jack. You don’t mind, do you Mags?’ Charl looks over at me. ‘You can borrow one of my outfits. I have the perfect thing for you…’ and she begins rattling off about a white lace dress that will fit me.
Jack jumps in, ‘Charl?—’
But I find myself forcing an expression full of excitement. Not forcing exactly, because no matter how terrifying this all is, isn’t thiseverythingthat I’ve wanted?
‘How about it, Mags? I promise to clean everything twice and I’ll keep your food separate. The weather’s clearing so we can have some of it outdoors. Dad?’ she interrupts his animated conversation with the soon-to-be newly-weds. ‘The patio heaters are all working, aren’t they? There’ll be plenty of space outside if you need to escape…’
‘I… well, I suppose?—’
I look to Jack and around the room, expectant faces poised in my direction.
‘Sounds great!’ I take a large gulp of champagne. When I look at Jack, even though he’s smiling, there is tension in his expression as Charl leans in, talking more and more about preparations for the party, and asking for my opinions.
‘And wait until you meet everyone; they are going to adore you. Just a few friends. Promise.’
41
JACK
I don’t get angry with my sister often. Charl was, and is, usually my ally, but right now I’m furious. The house isteemingwith people.
It’s not unusual; our house has always been full, especially growing up. We were allowed to bring friends over whenever we wanted and because we’re out of town, more often than not, it meant they stayed over. But this isn’t a few friends.
My plan was to take Maggie home. Tell her my parents’ worries, that they think I’m rushing into our relationship, that I’m using her to hide away from my life. Then I was going to kiss her and let her see that none of it is true. But before I had the chance, Charl was in full force. Maggie, gripping her glass, eyes like a deer – not just caught in the headlights – but like they were coming towards her at eighty miles an hour.
What else was she supposed to say other than yes? Luckily, she didn’t see the reserved and judgemental look I received from my parents at her hesitation. And when I looked back to Maggie, I saw something else, a hint of happiness as Charl brought her fully into the conversation about preparations.
I should have known the minute she said promise.Promisemeant,I’ll pick you up on time, when she would arrive twenty minutes late, orI won’t tell herwhen I had a crush on her best friend when I was thirteen, then she promptly announced it the minute said friend arrived on our doorstep.
The noise level is high. Conversations and boisterous laughter fill the hall. I step past two men sloshing prosecco over the rims of their glasses, one dressed in a sharp suit, the other with a wedding cake hat balancing precariously on his head. I pull Charl to the side. ‘You said a few people.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry but it kinda got added to our other WhatsApp group and, then someone mentioned a wedding theme; anyway, look, she’s having a lovely time.’ I look over to Maggie outside the doors, smiling at something Mum has said. Maggie is wearing a white lace dress, a white fur bolero around her shoulders.
She’s breath-taking.
It hits me.
Hard.
I stare at her, my family folded around, her cheeks pink from the cold. She belongs with us. She belongs with me.
I’m in love with Maggie Wright.
And I know that a life with a woman who can hear my thoughts will be hard. I know that I won’t be able to keep secrets or feelings hidden, but this past week has shown me that itispossible. She’s never hurt if I move away and need space. She doesn’t touch me without checking it’s OK; thiscanwork. I know it can.
I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and tell her.
