“… and really, why would a girl in her twenties want to be with her old professor?” Amy continues, ignoring my attempts to get away. “Unless she has some kind of kink, which is just weird. I mean, it’s not as if you make that much money.”
She’s been going on like this for almost twenty minutes now, systematically picking apart my relationship with Layla. My head is aching. I’m starting to think she’s right. Not that Layla is easy, or loose, or any of the other awful things she’s saying about her; but clearly, she’s correct when she says I look at the world through rose-coloured glasses.
I loved Amy for almost a decade. Not once during that time did I realise what a callous person she was. She’s happily slut-shaming a victimised teenage girl. How could I fall for a woman like this?
Obviously, I don’t see things clearly when I’m in a relationship. I was so in love with Amy that I didn’t have any clue what kind of person she really was.
“I mean, look at you. You’re clearly falling for her,” she keeps going. “Anyone can see it. And trust me; everyone besides you knows how this is going to end.”
The worst part is, she’s right. I am falling for Layla. How could I not? She’s lovely. She’s sharp, and smart, and driven — but underneath that hard shell, she’s also sensitive and thoughtful and kind. I’m falling for her.
Fear rises up inside me. I glance back at the open door to the wedding hall, looking out at the swirling mess of dancers inside. As I watch, Lavender comes back into view. She’s still on her phone, tapping furiously on the screen. Her mouth is turned down, her thin shoulders hunched like she’s trying to hide away. She’s unrecognisable as the bouncy, pink-cheeked toddler who skipped around our wedding in a pair of glittery fairy wings.
“How’s Lavender?” I interrupt Amy’s tirade. “She looks upset.”
She follows my gaze. “Lav? God, she’s being such a brat these days. She tried to bring her ‘girlfriend’ as a plus-one. I told her, look, I don’t care what you do in the bedroom, but I don’t want your experimental bisexual phase to be recorded forever in my wedding photos. We’re trying to set her up with one of the caterers’ sons, and she’s being so rude about it.” She frowns. “Stop looking at her, it’s weird. I doubt she remembers you.”
Right on cue, Lavender looks up at us, meeting my gaze again. She pulls a face, like ‘what do you want?’, and my stomach sinks. All at once, the realisation hits me.
I can’t do this again. I can’t go through another wedding, another divorce. I can’t lose a whole other life. I’m falling for Layla, and that’s dangerous. Why the Hell would things work out with her any better than they did with Amy? Apparently, I’m excellent at ignoring red flags, and there are plenty when it comes to Layla.
She’s my former student.
She came to me for help.
She’s never had a boyfriend before.
Oh; and our entire relationship has been completely fake.
Amy grabs my wrist again. “I just want to help you,” she says for the fifth time.
“Don’t touch me.” I shake her off. “Amy, the last thing I want to do today is criticise you. But I will not listen to you talk about any former student like this.”
She rolls her eyes. “You are so freaking whipped. For God’s sake, just—”
“Hi, guys. What’s going on out here?”
I turn and see Josh’s brother Rob striding towards us, his expensive suit rumpled. Immediately, Amy lets me go, standing back so she’s a respectable distance away from me. “Hi, Rob,” she coos. “I was just chatting with Luke, here.”
Robert looks at me, his eyes questioning, and I sigh. “Amy was just—” telling me I’m a gullible idiot that will die alone. “Berating me on my tie choice.” I say stupidly.
Rob laughs. “Damn. You never can get away from that, then?” He clears his throat. “Listen, mate, I just saw your girl come through here. She looked pretty upset. I didn’t want to tell Josh, we’re gonna need him in a few minutes for the toasts, so—”
My heart drops. “Upset how?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “She was like, almost crying. I tried to talk to her, but she ran off.”
“Sounds like she drank a bit too much of our champagne.” Amy pats my arm. “Go look after your date, Luke. I’ll see you later. Enjoy the rest of the wedding.”
I nod jerkily, and she drags Rob back towards the party, giving me one last firm look over her shoulder.
As I watch her back disappear, my phone buzzes with a notification. Swallowing hard, I hook it out of my pocket. I have messages from Layla and Zack. I check Layla’s first.
LAYLA: I’m going home. Give my congrats to the bride.
I stare at the screen. What? Why the Hell would she be going home? Did something happen? Flipping back to my texts, I scan through Zack’s messages.
ZACK: check Laylas ok
Alarm blooms in my stomach. I type out a response.
LUKE: What happened?
ZACK: we fcked
ZACK: then i told her it was over
ZACK: im done being her tutor or whatever
ZACK: she was mad
ZACK: and sad
I squint at the messages for a few seconds. Up until now, Zack had been doing surprisingly well. He usually really struggles on the anniversary of Emily’s death, but I thought maybe the wedding was providing him with a good distraction.
I guess not. It looks like the shit has finally hit the fan. I tap the phone icon to ring him, and he declines the call.
Swearing, I go back to our text thread.
LUKE: You slept with her, then dumped her?
LUKE: Why on Earth would you do that?
ZACK: didnt dump her, wasnt dating her
ZACK: go talk to her
ZACK: im going out
LUKE: No. What is wrong with you? Come back and apologise to her.
He doesn’t respond. I try to call him again, but the low beep on the other end of the line tells me he’s turned his phone off.
Cursing, I slip the phone back into my pocket and head towards the lobby lifts. I guess I’ll have to sort this out myself.
