Page 40 of Always the Bridesmaid

SARAH

Charlie is definitely avoiding me.

I have tried all night to get near him. I only wanted to talk. To tell him about the dog thing.

More than that, every time I have looked his way, he has scowled or looked right through me as though he hasn’t seen me, or quickly looked the other way.

It’s rude. It’s nasty. And—

Oh God, how many times have I looked his way?

Despite lying on my bed in darkness, I reach for a pillow and cover my face, horrified.

What must he be thinking? What if he thinks I have been staring at him because I—?

The bedroom door opens. Slowly, on tiptoe and with the floor around his feet illuminated by the torch light from his phone, Charlie steps inside.

‘I’m awake,’ I whisper, giving him the green light to make noise and turn on a light.

‘Oh. Sorry, I thought you’d be sleeping by now. I’ll be quick.’

He stays with the torch light only and begins to undress by the chaise longue. I can just make out his figure, wearing a white vest, underwear and socks. Socks pulled up to his knees.

I watch from the bed as he sets his phone down on the wash basin and washes his face, then cleans his teeth. When he’s finished, he wipes his hands and face dry with a towel, then looks in the mirror. Not at himself, but back toward the bed. At me.

I suspect he can’t see me in the dark, staring right back at him.

I know he can’t hear me thinking, You make a little more sense to me, Charlie.

The mood swings, the erratic behavior. He has had such a rough upbringing.

Should I be sympathetic, rather than being mad at him?

No. People have shit to deal with. He is an adult. He knows what is socially acceptable.

As he settles under a blanket on the sofa bed and finally turns off the torch light, I sit up in bed.

‘Have you been avoiding me today?’

Charlie doesn’t respond, which makes me fiercely mad. Coward.

‘Well?’ I demand, furiously slapping my hand down on the bed.

Then I hear the now too familiar sound of a pig grunting, his snores.

Slapping both hands down on the bed, I let myself fall back against the pillows, too cross to sleep.

I checked my watch at two minutes past two, six minutes past three, fourteen minutes past four and must have eventually fallen asleep sometime after that, once I had decided that I don’t care what Charlie thinks about anything anymore. After convincing myself that I don’t want to know anything about his childhood, or his education, or his work and friends. Nothing. Not a zip.

Now, I’m awake. It is just after eight in the morning, I don’t feel rested at all, and I still want to know why Charlie was so hideous to me yesterday. Not that I care, I just think he ought to justify his ignorance. That’s all.

Unfortunately, when I make to get out of bed to question him, Charlie is gone. His blanket is folded neatly on the bottom of the sofa bed.

Pulling on my robe, I go in search of him. Only when I reach the kitchen and half the guests of the house are already fully dressed and sitting around with teas and coffees, with Charlie notably absent from the group, do I realize how ridiculous I am being.

To save grace and prevent questions, I pour myself a filter coffee and tell the others I’ll be back down once I am dressed.

It is the eve of the wedding and I am pleased to be leaving the house – and the men residing in it – to go to the wedding venue and spend the day and night in the spa and bridal suite with the girls. Drew’s mum and sister, Jess’s aunt, Cady and Amy have also been invited along to pamper themselves for the day with the bride and bridesmaids.

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