Page 42 of Five Gold Rings

‘Come on, you,’ I tell Eve, touching her arm. ‘Time to go.’

‘I love you, Joe,’ she mutters drunkenly.

She doesn’t. I pat her on the head. ‘I’ll go and get your coat.’

The coats are stored on some pegs leading out to the toilets and I head there to obtain Eve’s faux-fur jacket. Once I get there, I stop for a moment and lean into where it’s hanging. Given we only paid thirty-five pounds for this thing, it’s surprisingly soft. Maybe I should tell her while she’s drunk. I love you, too. It might not even be love, it could be mere infatuation, but I think we could make love look like that, too. We wouldn’t be so loud and handsy per se, but I think I could make you that happy. I take the coat off the peg and head back to retrieve Eve. I hope she can walk because I tried carrying her last night and that didn’t quite work.

‘So, the bloke you caught in the shower, I hope you chopped his balls off,’ I hear as I approach the table and immediately duck behind a curtain.

‘I threw his phone out of the window,’ Eve replies, in drunken loud tones.

‘Yes, girl,’ Abby shouts, high-fiving her.

‘Wait, you’re not with Joe?’ Mike asks. Some best mate he is to at least not know.

‘Nah, babes. They’re just mates. She caught her fella in the shower yesterday with another bird,’ Abby adds. ‘Is Joe single? Get with him them. No offence, babes, cos we’re married now but he’s fit as fuck.’

I hear Mike laughing. ‘You don’t have to tell me. My boy is easy on the eye, that’s for sure. I saw the little kissy kissy under the mistletoe,’ he jokes.

‘Oh, it was just a kiss. He’s a work mate. He’s lovely, one of the nicest blokes I know but I don’t want to go there.’ My heart lurches.

‘Eve, the best way to get over someone is get under someone else,’ Abby says. ‘And you should be all over and under that like a rash.’

Mike seems unfazed at how his new wife is chatting about the best man. ‘She’s not wrong. Just have some fun. It’s Christmas. Go pull his cracker… Tell him Santa’s not the only person coming tonight.’

Drunken cackling ensues at all the innuendo.

‘Maybe,’ Eve replies. ‘But… not Joe…’

I stand there behind this bloody curtain, clutching on to Eve’s coat. What? My chest suddenly feels heavy. I look up at the ceiling of this room, decorated in fairy lights, like stars, randomly scattered about the place, not aligned, not falling into place at all. Oh. Really? OK then.Not Joe.

ELEVEN

Eve

I’m drunk. I was probably drunk yesterday but today I’m that sort of drunk where I feel in the right conditions, I could probably run a marathon as long as I got to stop for a kebab on the way home. I know why I’m drinking. I’m basically confused as hell. Yesterday, I caught a man I thought I loved in the worse circumstances possible. That image still makes my eyes twitch like they’re on fire and my heart still feels fractured, raw with hurt. The alcohol numbs for a moment.

However, let’s pour some more feelings on to the shitshow batter that is my life and give them a good old shake because I’m currently lying on the back seat of a green Mini, listening to Elton John as he steps into Christmas and all I can do is watch the back of Joe’s head as he drives us to the next ring delivery, wondering… After that kiss under the mistletoe, my brain seems to have rewired itself. This is Joe. You can see him in a new light now. You’re allowed. He can be someone you kiss. But then, he’s also Joe. Lovely Joe who seeks out people’s names, carries you to bed and has a kind and pure heart – who you shouldn’t drag into your relationship drama because it’s too soon, it’s too cruel to use him as some sort of rebound person. But look at how he’s revealing himself to you. He was always a handsome man, that was never in doubt, but on a day such as today, he’s made things better, he’s made you feel exhilarated, happy – he’s done his absolute best to help distract you, despite everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Through my drunken fuzziness I’m aware I’m downplaying the kiss to remove the awkwardness. We were just getting into the spirit of things. It wasn’t romantic in the slightest. He’s acting all cool, too, and hasn’t brought it up so I shouldn’t either. We have many more hours to spend together so why make it an issue? He is an awesome wing man, and that he should stay. I am far too messed up in heart and mind to do anything else. I look at him in the front, and I can see his eyes in the rearview mirror, a slight frown on his brow. He’s quiet. He’s stopped lip-syncing his songs and he looks mildly serious. Maybe he’s tired? Tired of me? He wouldn’t be the first man to think that. I am drunk, though, and it’s not fun babysitting a drunk. Maybe I’ll sing to him to cheer him up.

‘I’m sending you a Christmas car to say it’s nice to have you neeee-arrrr…’ I sing along, out of tune, not really knowing the words.

‘Why would Elton send a Christmas car?’ Joe asks from the driver’s seat.

‘Because he’s rich as fuck,’ I blurt out. ‘You’ve stopped singing? Why?’

‘I don’t think I started…’ There’s a shift in tone from him, like he may be angry with me.

‘Are you OK?’ I mumble from the backseat.

‘Yeah, just… It’s been a day, eh?’

‘And you weren’t even drinking…’

‘Well then, who would drive? Plus I don’t really drink,’ he tells me, grumbling at the gears sticking.

‘Why not?’ I ask.

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