Page 38 of The Worst Guy Ever
“Hattie,” he laughs softly and shakes his head. “We don’t tattoo shame.”
I puff out air, awkward at being told off, but he doesn’t stop there.
“A small thing here or—” he traces his fingers in circles and zigzags slowly up my bare spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Maybe a bigger piece all the way up here. Flowers, a vine, maybe a nest of vipers snaking all the way up to your neck.” He keeps going, his strokes dancing over my shoulder, sneaking beneath the material at the hollow of my throat.
He skims his fingers up my neck, spreading them out to take my jaw in his warm hand, tilting my face up to his. The pad of his thumb ghosts over my bottom lip and I’m certain I’m about to pass out. His eyes are full of longing, but his touch is so delicate it’s almost painful. I feel it deep in my chest, an agonising need. I want him to touch me more. I want him to take me right here, dress be damned, the way he said he wanted me on the boat. It’s been the only thing I’ve pictured in bed at night ever since.
This power he has over me has knocked something loose in my brain. No matter how hard I try to forget him, how desperate I am to ignore him, I always end up an aching mess in his presence. And he doesn’t care about the effect he has on me. It’s so easy for him to get on with his life, like his words don’t imprint in my skin.
“Sounds like you’ve thought about my body quite a bit, Rob. You need to get a hobby, mate.” I move to leave but his hand circles my wrist, thumb finding my pulse point and caressing there so tenderly it’s impossible to pull away. He pulls me gently into his arms, the front of our bodies pressed together, one hand cupping the back of my head. The sound that escapes my throat is mortifying. He lowers his mouth to the shell of my ear and the warmth of his breath sends heat flowing through every part of me.
“You know I’ve thought about it,” he whispers. “And now I know what it looks like, I don’t think I’ll ever get you out of my head.”
Chapter 16
Hattie
“Congratulations,youmaykiss!”
The celebrant steps aside, and the room explodes in applause. My hands follow their lead without thinking. Up on stage, I watch my best friend and her husband -husband!- wrap their arms around each other, lock lips and turn slightly, Kara’s bouquet rising to her cheek to give them privacy just like we planned.
“This is amazing, so amazing,” Megan sobs beside me, pulling a tissue from her clutch bag and patting her face. “I’m so happy for them.”
“Me too,” I say, fixing my mouth into a tight smile. “So happy.”
Maybe if I keep saying it, it will feel real. It’s not that I’mnothappy for them. I’ve never met two people more deserving of each other’s love. It’s more that I don’t really feel happiness the way I think other people feel it. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever been truly happy.
The afternoon passes in a blur of champagne, canapes, and camera flashes. I’m briefly introduced to Rob’s mum and aunt, which seems fucking weird until I remember that it’s not, given how close Luke and Rob were growing up.
Kara asked if I wanted to invite my mum, but I said no. Although Kara and I hung out plenty as kids, we mostly went to her house or Megan’s, so they aren’t as close with my mum as I am with their parents. I never wanted to take friends home because I never knew what state the house would be in, or which boyfriend of the month would be making himself at home on our sofa. If I’d invited Mum, knowing my luck, she’d have turned up with some dickhead in tow who’d try to act like he knows me based on the limited information mum seems to give them.
I don’t want to be dwelling on this shit today, but seeing Luke and Kara combining their happy families really drives home what a mess mine is.
By the time the street food trucks are ready to serve I’m absolutely ravenous, and first in line for pizza. I grab a stack of napkins and carry my plate to a table, bagging a seat beside the second most amazing woman in the room.
“Hi, Granny Annie.”
“Oh hiya doll, don’t you look smashing,” she says, her Scottish accent already soothing my soul. She rests one hand on my forearm. Her nails are painted a pearly pink, to match her lacy dress, her glossy ballet pumps, and her enormous hat. I don’t give much of a fuck about weddings, but I respect that the older generation are still so into hats. It’s a dying art, I think.
“Are you OK? Can I get you anything?”
“I’m all good, sweetheart, Luke’s getting me some food. Come here, tell me how you are.”Christ, where to begin.
“I’m doing well, thank you.”
“That boy still giving you grief?” she waggles a finger in Rob’s direction. Having been witness to a few of our spats, and the dreaded boat disaster, she knows exactly what the two of us are like.
“What was your husband like?” I ask, changing the subject. I know Luke’s grandfather died long before he came into Kara’s life, but I haven’t heard much about him.
Her eyes light up and she angles her body towards me. “Oh my goodness, you’re so sweet to ask. He was the best man you could ever meet.”
“Tell me about him.”
“Derek was my husband, but he was so much more than that. He was my best friend, and my business partner. Did you know we used to run a pub together?”
“Luke mentioned it, yes.”
“Nearly fifty years we had it. Luke’s mammy grew up there, then when Luke came along we moved to a house nearby, but we were there every day and we loved it. It was the heart of the village, and my Derek, well, he was the life and soul of the place. He always had time to stop and chat with everyone, no matter how busy it was. It was like he had more hours in the day than everyone else, you know?”
