Page 18 of The Wedding Cake Wish
I’ve finally managed to pin Rob down to spending timewith me. He’s been so busy recently. But sitting opposite him in our favouriterestaurant, I’m starting to wonder if it was really such a good idea.
There’s an air of agitation about Rob tonight that I reallydon’t recognise.
We always have such a laugh when we go out for dinnertogether. But tonight is different. He seems keen to order as soon as we sitdown and gets quite annoyed when he can’t catch the waiter’s attentionimmediately. Then when I start talking about the honeymoon we’ve booked and howexcited I am, it’s as if he’s not properly listening. He makes all the rightnoises in response, but he’s keeping one eye on his phone all the time.
‘Isn’t this lovely? Just you and me? And no Mum popping upwith a fresh idea for the favours?’ Smiling, I put down the menu. ‘I think I’llhave the prawns and then the chicken. What about you?’
He nods. ‘Prawns and chicken. Sounds good.’
‘Don’t you want to have another look at the menu?’
‘No. I’m good, thanks. I need to get back as soon as we’veeaten.’
‘Oh, do you?’ I can’t hide my disappointment. I’d been solooking forward to tonight. I’d been hoping that after a leisurely dinner, wecould go to a bar, find a cosy corner and have a few drinks – and moreimportantly, actuallyconnect...because since ourargument about the ice sculpture the other night, things have been slightlyawkward between us.
I’ve never felt this before with Rob and me. We’ve alwaysbeen so in tune with each other we can finish each other’s sentences. We telleach other off in jest but we’ve never really had actual arguments – until theother night.
I’m dreading him bringing up the ice sculpture again...
And right on cue, just as the thought drifts through myhead, Rob looks straight at me and says, ‘So I hope you told Marjery we definitelydon’t want an ice sculpture.’
I swallow. ‘Well, you know, Itriedto tell her butshe just steam-rollered over my objections. Honestly, trying to pin my motherdown is like trying to stab an olive covered in salad oil.’ I shrug, hopinghe’ll see the funny side.
But he doesn’t seem amused and my heart sinks.
‘So you haven’t told her?’ he demands, a hard edge to histone.
‘No. Sorry. I did try to.’
He shakes his head. ‘Honestly, Fen, it’s high time youstarted standing up for yourself. You can’t keep letting Marjery just rideroughshod over all your ideas. It’syour wedding!’
‘Well, it’sourwedding, actually,’ I point outtartly. He’s making me feel like a fool. I know I’m rubbish at laying down thelaw with Mum, but Rob doesn’t understand how hard it can be sometimes.
He supresses an irritable sigh. ‘I know it’sour wedding.But how would it go down ifIstarted telling your mum what I think? Nottoo great with either of you, I should imagine.’
‘Actually, I’d quite like your help and support. It’s allvery well criticising the way I’m handling Mum, but isn’t it time you showed atleast alittlebit of interest in our wedding plans? Apart from sortingout the men’s attire and looking at the menus, what have you actually done tohelp?’ I shake my head, feeling stung by his comments and also very foolish.
So this is what he thinks of me? That I’m a complete pushover,allowing Mum to walk all over me?
He sighs. ‘Fen, if you want my help with anything, you onlyhave to ask.’
‘But that’s the point. I shouldn’thaveto ask! Thisshould be something we’re doingtogether. Or aren’t you interestedenough in the wedding to want to bother?’
‘Well, now you’re just being stupid.’ He gives his headanother terse shake and turns his attention to his food.
We eat the rest of our meal in silence, although I’m findingit increasingly difficult – with my throat all choked up – to force down my chicken.
The argument has shaken me. I didn’t realise Rob felt thisway about me – that I’m a pathetic pushover. I thought he understood howdifficult Mum can be. In the past, we’ve always laughed about it, but there wasreal disgust in his eyes just then, when he was accusing me of allowing her toride roughshod over everything.
Maybe Rob’s criticism is an indication of how he feels aboutme?
A cold hand squeezes my heart.
What if he’s going off me?
Every boyfriend I’ve ever had has lost interest eventuallyand gone off with someone else. I know Rob would never cheat on me. But what ifthis relationship is going the same way as all the others?
As soon as he’s finished his main course, he’s glancingaround for the waiter.
