Page 97 of The Jealous Girl

‘That’s not the point. This lunch is important,’ I insisted.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Ryan said, far too laid-back about the whole situation.

I stifled a sigh. His blasé attitude was doing nothing to ease the nerves churning my stomach. Sunday lunch with his parents had seemed like a good idea when I’d suggested it. But, now, the prospect of a roast dinner weighing heavily in my already uncomfortable stomach wasn’t appealing.

Nor was making small talk with Denise.

I glanced at Ryan as we walked hand in hand towards the pub entrance. I was doing this for him, I reminded myself. To get his dad used to us. To me.

And then… A smile crept across my lips.

We could get married officially.

My gaze scanned the tables as we stepped inside the pub. Maybe they weren’t here yet. Maybe we⁠—

I froze.

Charlotte.

Seated opposite Denise and Martin, as though she belonged here.

As though she’d been invited.

My head jolted to Ryan. ‘What’s she doing here?’ I hissed.

‘I don’t know.’ He let my hand drop as he waved at them. ‘Mum must have invited her.’

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Ryan put his hand against my lower back and gave me a nudge forwards.

I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t as though I could turn straight back around and leave. Though, as I glanced over my shoulder at the door behind me, it was incredibly tempting.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ Ryan said, as we reached the table. He patted his dad on his shoulder, and kissed his mum on the cheek, as I stood awkwardly to the side.

Charlotte leapt out of her chair and flung her arms around his neck.

‘I love this place,’ Charlotte gushed. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’

I blinked.

He’d invited her?

‘I—’ Ryan started.

‘Come and sit by me,’ Charlotte cut him off, pulling him down into the seat beside hers.

I stood staring at them. The four of them seated around the table as though they belonged there. At the table I’d booked. The table for four.

‘You don’t mind Charlotte joining us, do you, Kirsty?’ Martin said. ‘Didn’t feel right to leave her out, did it, love?’ he asked, turning to Denise.

‘No,’ Denise said. ‘She’s practically family,’ she added yet again, looking at me pointedly.

I plastered a smile on my face. ‘Of course,’ I muttered, hoping it sounded less hostile than I felt.

I turned away, searching for another chair.

‘Is this chair free?’ I asked a couple at the next table.