Page 93 of The Truth About You and Me
Yeah. It’s just overwhelming. And…
I think Jack might be in love with me. I think I might be?—
A loud ‘Hiya!’ rips through the house. I delete the ‘and’, hit send, give the photos one last glance and take a deep breath. Closing the door on Jack and Vicky.
My hand trails along the banister. Loud chatter and eager clacking of plates and crockery are coming from the kitchen.
I step forwards. The table is laden with food on brightly coloured dishes: chicken wings, corn on the cob, baked potatoes, little bowls piled with colourful rice, pasta… There is more choice here than I’ve experienced before. The buffet-style vibe mimics the room: chaotic, warm. Slightly terrifying.
At the far end of the table, Jack is hugging a man, back-clapping him affectionately. He has blond hair, and an air of Oxbridge boat race about him.
‘Maggie, this is George.’
Jack turns, his arm still looped around his brother’s neck.
‘Hi! Good to meet you.’ George charges over, arms wide. Jack is shaking hands with another man – tall, scruffy brown hair, glasses – who I’ve gathered is Kieran, his boyfriend.
I jolt backwards, my spine bumping into a chair, sending it clattering to the floor. I scramble to correct it. Despite the sound that stops conversation, and the way they are all looking over at me, George slows, smiles and picks up the chair.
‘Sorry—’ I say, flustered.
‘Not to worry, you’re not part of the family unless you’ve broken something.’
My cheeks heat, and I apologise again, which he dismisses with a wave of his hand. There is a spark in his eyes, a natural flirtatious way about him.
‘So you’re the one,’ he says.
‘Sorry?’
‘The one who brought my miserable git of a brother back into the land of the living.’
The rest of lunch goes by without further incident, the air swollen with interruptions, stories and jokes.
I sit quietly next to Jack. He’s moved his chair slightly further away from me. I try not to read too much into this, but part of me wonders what was said in the library.
I hold my elbows in as I reach for something that looks like rice but is dotted with pomegranate seeds. Across the table, I catch Greta giggling and picking up a straw, her eyes on Jack. She copies his movements as he sucks his straw, a crouton being held at the edge. She giggles and does the same.
He’s so completely natural with her. I don’t know how to imitate this ease, or crack this secret code that they all seem to know.
Jack nods, while giving Charl surreptitious glances, but she’s talking loudly and pointing a bread roll at her father, while telling him he’s wrong about a line in a popular novel.
Jack mouths one… two… sucks the crouton back up and then blows it across the table at his sister.
‘Jack!’
Greta folds herself double, her laughter bubbling up out of her as she tries to replicate his actions again, her eyebrows pinched in concentration.
‘Great.’ Charl throws down her napkin. ‘I can’t wait to get my own revenge when you have kids.’
Jack grimaces at Greta, but they share a look of mischief before he replies, ‘My kids will behave impeccably, not like these two little monsters!’ He growls at Greta, who giggles.
My kids.
I take a sip of elderflower cordial, the taste dry but too sweet on my tongue. Seeing him around his family, the way that he’s such a part of them is so different to the man he is when he’s with me, different but somehow supercharged. He will make a wonderful father, but?—
My thoughts are interrupted by George standing, clinking the side of his glass. The room hushes.
‘So… I’ve invited us all here because as you all know, somehow I’ve managed to land myself with one of the kindest, most gorgeous men on the planet.’ He looks down at Kieran with love in his eyes. ‘And for reasons that I cannot fathom, he seems to feel the same way about me.’ He holds up his left hand where a platinum ring sits on his engagement finger. ‘We’re getting married!’
