‘Thank you,’ Hope mouths, squeezing Autumn’s hand.
‘A cottage sounds gorgeous; Willow will love that. No hustle and bustle of the holidays – just you, her and nature.’ I nod my approval.
‘That’s what I was thinking,’ Autumn replies, flashing a giddy smile, in between serving a couple of Guinnesses to a few locals.
‘We’re getting a dog,’ Jess chimes in and almost the second he finishes his sentence Hope says, ‘No we are not.’ Causing me to choke on my gin.
Autumn chuckles. ‘Aww finally.’
‘Don’t encourage him, Autumn,’ Hope warns.
‘I shall say no more,’ Autumn adds, winking at Jess before she gets caught up serving the growing crowd. The village pub is the place to be on weekends. Hope, Jess and I have spent many an evening here after long days at the office winding down with a glass of gin and joining in with the pub quizzes. My general knowledge isn’t too shabby for someone who failed her GCSEs.
‘What are you going to call him or her?’ I take over from Autumn, teasing Hope. Jess has wanted a dog for the longest time, but a dog doesn’t quite fit into Hope’s organised and clean living space or their busy schedules.
‘I’m not sure. It depends if he or she already has a name and likes it. I want to adopt from the shelter. They’ve just put an add out that they are desperate for more families to give some pups a home this Christmas and to think we have such a warm, cosy home and good jobs that would allow us to look after and support them in the best way. It just feels right, you know,’ Jess tells me, casually draping his arm around Hope’s shoulders and dropping a kiss on her temple. I’m finding it really difficult not to choke on my gin as I try and keep in my giggles watching Hope roll her eyes as Jess squeezes her shoulders tight. ‘Hope would be such a great dog mum. She’s so kind and loving and nurturing.’
‘You’re laying it on thick tonight; you can stop anytime,’ Hope says, turning to face Jess, who gives her a huge puppy-dog stare. ‘Stop it,’ she says affectionately before giving him a kiss. The two of them truly make a cute pair.
‘When did I say it was OK for you two to become an item?’ I joke, fiddling with my straw when someone clears their throat behind me. Hope and Jess stop their canoodling and when Jess looks up, he looks as though Thanos has just collected the last of the infinity stones and Hope is smiling encouragingly at me.
I smooth down my dress with my gin-free hand and roll my shoulders back, the image of Ruby looking gorgeous in her figure-hugging dress engraved in my mind. I turn around to greet Devon.
‘Hi,’ I say, awkwardly giving him a wave, even though he is less than a metre in front of me. I was going to go for the handshake, contemplated a hug, but it came out as a wave. Devon takes an awkward two steps forward and one step back as if he was going in for a hug too, so I don’t feel as embarrassed.
‘You came,’ he says, giving me a side smile that makes a dimple pop in his right cheek. He looks different to earlier when he had been stood with Ruby and the boys from school, almost shy and less intimidating. I try and shake off thoughts of Ruby and think of something to say, but it’s hard when Devon is studying me. His brown eyes scan my dress and then fall on my eyes, creating a flutter of butterflies deep in my belly.
‘Nice to see you again, Devon,’ Hope says stepping forward and giving him a quick hug. Her voice sounds more authoritative compared to this morning. I can see she is still gobsmacked over casually getting to hug a superhero but she’s playing my best friend card and doing her duties now that she knows mine and Devon’s story a little better. I welcome her interruption and take a refreshing sip of gin.
‘You know Hope; this is Jess. Just give him a minute, he’s a little bit in love with you,’ I say, stepping aside and introducing Jess. My shoulders relax a touch when I see how ecstatic Jess is. It’s hard not to be transported back to being my sixteen-year-old self freaking out over the thought of one day meeting Robert Downey Jr. Though that was another dream I never pursued after turning my back on the whole comic universe, I can empathise with how awesome this moment is for one of my best friends and I’m behaving myself, like I promised Hope I would, and I’m letting him have his moment.
‘Hi, Jess,’ Devon says but I can’t help noticing it sounds a little icy. It stops me in my tracks. Ten years goes out of the window along with whatever awkwardness I felt moments ago as I whack Devon in his thick bicep. ‘Devon, this is one of my best friends, Jess.’ I nudge him again harder and give him a pointed glare.
Devon’s mouth opens wide and his eyes light up. ‘Your friend?’ he reiterates, resting a hand over his chest.
My brows furrow and I look down to check my glass to see how much gin I’ve consumed. I’m not even halfway through my glass yet, so it’s definitely Devon acting weird.
‘Yes, my friend,’ I repeat slowly.
‘And my boyfriend,’ Hope chimes in merrily, squeezing Jess’s shoulders. ‘He’s been terribly excited to meet you since I told him about you last night.’
I look at Hope’s glass, which is empty.
‘You’re one of Scar’s best friends – sorry, hi, Jess. It’s so great to meet you and thank you for being a fan too. It’s loud in here. Should we get a table?’ Devon says, shaking Jess’s hand and bringing him in for a hug, putting him at ease instantly, his voice now filled with warmth once again.
‘Hi, erm, yeah that sounds good,’ Jess manages as Devon guides him to the booth by the fire. Hope and I follow, me ignoring Hope’s side elbows and giddy winks and wondering why Devon had for a split second come across a little hostile to Jess. Had Hollywood turned him into an egotistical man who felt superior to other men?
9
‘Don’t tell your mum,’ my dad says with a wink, placing two glasses of lemonade on the table – one for me and one for Devon. Then he scoots up next to me in the booth with his pint of Guinness. I smile up at him, then get back to work concentrating on my colouring.
‘I’m nearly done, Dad, don’t look yet,’ I say, my tongue sticking out as I try really hard not to colour outside the lines.
‘I’m done,’ D announces, turning his sheet over so I can’t see it before taking a sip of his lemonade.
I colour in the last golden edge of the crown and carefully put my pencil crayon back in my precious Spider-Man pop-out pencil case. I take a big slurp of lemonade, the bubbles tickling my tongue, before I clutch my paper to my chest.
‘OK, I’m ready,’ I tell the judge.
‘Mr Davis, remember you have to tell the truth – you can’t choose Scar because she’s yours,’ D notes. He says this every Saturday but we’re actually drawing five-five, since my dad started bringing us to the pub for colouring competitions while my mum works at the hairdresser’s. I love this time with my dad; every week he surprises us with different superheroes to colour.
‘I promise I won’t, kid,’ my dad assures nervous six-year-old Devon with a hearty chuckle. ‘Are both contestants ready?’
I brace myself, my hands sweaty against the crisp white paper. D and I nod. Dad closes his eyes. ‘One, two, three, what’ve you got?’ Dad says opening them as D and I flip our papers around. I’m so pleased with my Wonder Woman colouring page. I only wobbled outside the line on one tiny bit. I hope my dad doesn’t notice.