Scotty’s expression grew stony. ‘Of course you do, Claire,’ he said coldly. ‘I’ve only ever wanted you to think about your future, remember? For a long time I thought I might be part of it.’
She glared at him, completely lost for words. He was throwing her rejection of his marriage proposal in her face. Now. After eight years. Little more than a week before his wedding to someone else.
‘How dare you,’ Claire said eventually, her voice a whisper. ‘That is so unfair.’
Jared suddenly appeared at Claire’s side and handed her a condensation-covered glass of wine. He didn’t seem to notice that the tension between her and Scotty was thicker than the sea air on a humid summer’s night.
‘Hey, man,’ Jared said, clapping Scotty on the back. ‘Changed your mind about letting me put N.W.A on the wedding playlist?’
Scotty didn’t acknowledge Jared’s quip. ‘Have a good night,’ he said gruffly, and stalked away.
Claire sagged into her chair, her legs shaky. She took a fortifying gulp of her wine.
‘Are you okay? That looked heavy,’ Jared said, sitting beside her. His face was the picture of concern and Claire felt a wave of affection for him. Jared was sweet and uncomplicated – and more perceptive than she’d given him credit for. Why couldn’t she have fallen for someone like him all those years ago, instead of someone who constantly pushed and challenged her, and arrogantly assumed he knew what was best for her?
She plastered on the brightest smile she could muster. ‘I’m great,’ she said. ‘I think maybe Scotty and I are a little stressed out, what with the wedding so close.’
Jared chuckled and sipped his beer. ‘And you’re just the helper,’ he said. ‘Imagine how you’d feel if you were the bride.’
Claire knew it wasn’t a criticism, but Jared’s words felt like a slap. She was just the helper. If only she could figure out how to help herself.
Scotty sat at the bar and glowered. He should have just left, should have gone home and drank alone like the sad case he was. Did it count as drinking alone if you had a three-legged dog for company?
But he stayed at the pub. It was better to be around people, he figured. Around friends. Mates he’d known forever, who wouldn’t remind him how gutless he was. Maybe he would text Nina and ask her to meet him for dinner after she finished teaching her sunset yoga class on the beach. He’d barely seen her all week and he felt the need to check in, to make sure they were still on the same page with all this wedding stuff.
It was loud in the pub, but every now and then Claire’s mellifluous laugh would drift above the racket. He’d chosen a seat at the far end of the bar, with his back to Claire and Jared so he didn’t have to watch them on their date. But he could still feel her there. He always sensed her, wherever she was, even when there were hundreds of kilometres and years of silence between them. She was like a thought he couldn’t articulate or a moment he couldn’t forget.
More like a nightmare I can’t forget.
But that was unfair. Scotty didn’t want to forget Claire, though his life would certainly be easier right now if he had. She had hurt him once, sure. But he figured he had deserved it, trying to run her life the way he had. He’d tried to play Mr Fixit when what he should have done was just hold her hand while she figured it out for herself.
He never should have asked her to marry him back then – and he definitely shouldn’t have alluded to it tonight. What was he thinking? Claire lugged around enough shame about her past with her. Scotty felt sick that he’d added to it. What he’d said to Claire had been straight-up cruel.
He heard her laugh again and his head throbbed. Seriously, Jared Miller? He was a nice enough bloke, but he was no match for Claire. Jared was fun – easygoing and straightforward, what you saw was what you got. Claire had hidden depths, layers that Scotty had barely begun to peel back. She was fiercely intelligent, complex, fragile.
No, not fragile. Scotty caught himself. He’d made that mistake before. Claire was no weakling. She was as tough as a Mallee bull. She just didn’t know it.
If anyone was weak in this scenario, it was him.
What could Claire possibly see in Jared? Scotty knew many girls liked that salt-crusted surfer-dude vibe he had going on, but Claire wasn’t the type to fall for looks alone – that she’d ever been with Scotty was proof of that. Still, even Jared was punching above his weight with Claire. She was classically beautiful, like a painting, with her pale skin, smattering of freckles and dark curls. When he’d walked into the pub and seen her sitting on that sofa in those tiny shorts, Scotty couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d felt heat pooling deep within him. Something stirred in a place that had no business being stirred by a woman who was not his fiancée.
But it was all a moot point. Claire was with Jared, and he had to admit she was probably a better match with him – at least aesthetically speaking – than she had ever been with Scotty. He was no stranger to punching above his weight himself. He knew he was no oil painting. It was yet another reason he couldn’t quite believe Nina had agreed to marry him.
He drained his beer and signalled to the barman for another, his fourth. He had to stop thinking – about Claire and Jared, Nina, the wedding. Maybe getting off his face would help him switch off his brain.
But before he could take another sip, Scotty’s phone rang. His brother’s name flashed up on the screen. He smiled. He could always count on Chris for a solid night out.
