“I can un-invite him for you if you like…”
The corner of her eyes crinkle, she smiles at my suggestion, and before I can stop myself, my hand reaches down to cup her face, my thumb brushing over her cheek. Her lashes flutter before she steps back, placing her hand over mine and giving it a tentative squeeze. Then she turns, heading over to the douche.
Left standing amongst dancers, a relative of Nate’s or Flick’s—I can’t be sure—attempts to accost me, but I quickly make a beeline for the bar just as the first words for Come on Eileen kick in.
I steal glances in Soph’s direction until she ushers him out and they disappear from my sight. Ordering a JD and coke, I tap my knuckles on the bar.
“Make that two,” I counter when Nate appears, his face brighter than a clown on helium.
“Hey, do you know anything about a guy Sophie was seeing?” I ask.
He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Not much, why?”
“Well he just turned up, and she’s gone out to speak with him.”
His eyes bug out a little, but he shrugs it off. “I wouldn’t sweat it, man. She’s not with him anymore,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, his smile still intact.
I pass him his drink, and we chink glasses. “Cheers,” we both say before taking a sip.
“So why is she even entertaining him, and why didn’t she say anything to me?”
He turns to me, leaning his elbow on the bar. His eyebrows crease as his smile stretches into a smirk. “What does it matter to you anyway? You’re just friends.”
“We are. I’m just curious, that’s all.” A half-truth.
He chuckles. “Whatever you say, man. I’m off to find my lovely wife.”
“Totally whipped,” I say, smiling.
He punches me in the arm with a shit-eating grin and wiggles his fingers at his Aunt Lydia when he walks away.
The drinks are flowing and everywhere I turn, smiles and laughter echo. They decided to create mini playlists for each decade. We’re currently in the eighties, and when Take on Me hits the speakers, I drain the rest of my drink before ordering myself another.
I need some air.
I leave my drink on the nearby table as I shuffle between people and exit the reception tent, pull off my cravat, and stuff it into my pocket. The music becomes a hum the farther away I walk. Close to the row of trees which line the edge of the small lake that runs at the back of their property, voices catch my attention.
It’s not until a familiar tone reaches me that I strain to listen, moving closer but keeping myself in the shadows.
It’s clear whatever they’re discussing is becoming heated.
“I don’t know what else you want me to say. We weren’t working.” Soph exhales like this isn’t the first time she’s told him.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. It was working out fine while we were fucking.” His voice is slurred and overbearing.
“Greg, don’t be so crude. We haven’t been together in almost a month. And this isn’t the time or place. Let me call you tomorrow when you’re sober. We can talk then.”
“No, we can talk now, god damn it. It’s one of the guys you were all over, isn’t it?” His voice raised.
I clench my fist to my side until my nails dig into my palm.
“I’m not about to dignify that with an answer. Were you watching me?” she asks.
“Yes. You might act all prim and proper, but you’re just a slut—a fucking tease.”
Hell, no, he did not. I move closer to them.
“Just stop. Si is my best friend and Charlie is the groom’s best man.” Her voice shakes, but otherwise, she sounds calm.
“Don’t be fucking naïve, Sophie. He probably wants in your knickers… That’s if you’re even wearing any?”
That’s it.
I step into their space just as he grabs hold of her upper arm.
She flinches, stutters. “Let me go!”
“Did you not fucking hear her? She told you to let her go,” I say.
I want to pull Sophie behind me and get this arsehole away from her.
“Shut up, pretty boy,” he slurs.
Is he seriously trying to bait me right now?
“I won’t ask you again. Let her go, and get the fuck out of here,” I say in warning, my eyes locked on him as he roughly pulls her into him and she stumbles.
I get a load of her face, her eyes blink rapidly and her lower lip trembles.
I launch forward and shove him hard in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. He loses his grip, and his hand flies up, connecting with her face.
She lets out a sharp yelp, and that’s all it takes for my patience to snap. I’m on him before I even register my feet have moved. He doesn’t have any time to protect his face as my fist connects with his nose, followed by a loud crack.
I don’t stop.
I draw back my fist, slam it back into his face. Again—punch, punch—and again. The green lawn fades. Red, hot rage fuels my fists. The crack of knuckles on flesh drowns out the world.
Draw.
Slam.
Crack.
Distant, hollowed screeches puncture the air. They’re incoherent—the voices—but closer and closer.
And then hands are on me. I’m pulled from my prey. No. I take another swing, landing in air.
“Charlie—”
That’s Simon’s voice. I blink, letting it bleed into my subconscious.
“Charlie, that’s enough, man. What the fuck?”
“Just calm down, man,” Ryan says, his eyes darting at the prick on the ground and back to me.
It’s then I notice they both have a hold of me. I’m not sure if they’re holding me back or up at this point. I stare down at my fists—skin split and bleeding—then at the mongrel still on the ground. One of his eyes is already swelling shut, and from the state of his nose, I’m pretty sure it’s broke. But I don’t feel an ounce of remorse.
“Get him the fuck out of here. Before I kill him,” I spit out.
Ryan lets me go, but Simon still has a grip on me. He faces me, his eyebrows drawn in. “Are you going to keep yourself under control?” he asks, his face contorted. I’ve never seen him this serious.
“Yes,” I grit out, my pulse thumping wildly in my temples.
He lets me go, and I squeeze my eyes closed, take a deep breath. I want nothing more than to keep punching that sack of shit. But when I focus enough to see Simon standing in front of Sophie, the bottom drops out from the pit of my stomach. I’m rooted in place.
Fuck.
He pries her hand away from her mouth and brings her to his chest. Her other arm’s folded over her middle. And tears are falling from her beautiful eyes. He lets go, takes her face in his hands and tilts her head to lock eyes with her.
I don’t know what Simon said to her, but she won’t answer him; she’s staring right through him.
The piece of shit lets out a groan as Ryan pulls at his arm.
And then Sophie’s eyes are on him, wide and dazed.
“Hurry up and get him the fuck out of here,” I say again.
Simon turns his head, eyes dark like thunder. “I’m not bloody leaving her, not like this,” he whisper-shouts. She flinches.