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“Nice! I love weddings. Need a plus-one? Fake boyfriend?”
I grinned. “Don’t think so, but thanks for the offer.”
“Shame.”
The microwave beeped, and James collected his reheated drink. “Have fun at the hen’s,” he said on his way out.
“Thanks.”
I couldn’t think about the hen party. My thoughts were stuck on Neil.
“I don’t want them to operate in an environment of fear. This is my burden to shoulder.”
I stirred my tea as Neil’s voice echoed in my head.
Something was becoming clear. Neil wasn’t the man I thought he was.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Until now, my experience of bachelorette parties came from TV and movies. That’s why I half-expected to see Nicole dressed in a tacky outfit with a sash, veil, and tiara when I walked through the wrought-iron gate to the courtyard outside the bar. But no, she wore a tasteful little black dress like most of the other women surrounding the large table. I seemed to be the only one wearing any colour. Had I missed a memo about a black-and-white theme? I felt under-dressed compared to everyone else, wearing a denim jacket over a short-sleeved top and a skirt with tights and boots.
At least I’ll be warm.
Moonlight and gothic-style lanterns lit the courtyard. Ivy climbed the red brick walls. Every table was occupied. Conversations in raised voices competed with the hip hop music pumping through the speakers.
I approached Nicole’s table, but she was too engrossed in chatting with her friends to notice my arrival. I tapped her shoulder. Even then, she didn’t acknowledge me until she had finished speaking with the friend opposite her. At last, she looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Oh! You’re here! Thanks for coming.”
I counted ten people around the table, including Nicole. I must have been one of the last to arrive, which was strange since I was only a few minutes late. “Am I late? Sorry.”
“Don’t worry. Some of us had dinner at my place first, then we headed here early. Have you met my friends?”
I looked from face to face, searching my memory. “Some of them…”
“I better introduce you.” She turned her attention back to the group of ladies around the table. “Everyone, this is…” Her voice dropped away and blankness spread over her face.
Why isn’t she saying my name?
“This is…” She grimaced.
All the little conversations dried up until awkward silence reigned, nine pairs of curious eyes staring at her expectantly. Nicole laughed nervously, combing a hand through her long blonde hair. I felt the colour drain from my face.
She’s forgotten my name. Eight years of friendship, and she’s forgotten my name.
Nicole laughed again, her eyes and nose crinkling. “Oh my gosh! I must be drunk already. This is Milly. That’s right. My old friend from uni.”
I exhaled. She got there eventually. I could forgive the lapse since she had been drinking, and I knew how wedding preparations and family drama were stressing her out. It was enough to mess with anyone’s brain.
Yeah. That must be it.
“Milly, this is Alicia, Stacy, Eden, Jodie, Gemma, Felicity, Jacquie, and of course, Gwen and Lisa, who I’m sure you already know.”
The names passed in a blur, but I tried to remember as many as I could. The women all greeted me before returning to their private conversations in pairs or threes. No one made space for me at the table.
I looked around, trying to spot a spare chair, but couldn’t see one.
“Hey,” the brunette woman on my left said. “I’ll grab you a chair.”
“Would you? Thanks. That would be great.”
