Page 75 of Two Wrongs
‘You didn’t have to.’ Her eyes glide to the front of the room as though the presence of Rory has them magnetized. ‘Stop with the self-flagellation.’ Her hand finds mine, grasping it tightly. ‘No more apologies, okay?’
‘But I’m so good at them.’
Because I am sorry—seriously so. Sorry I let the bitterness over my own circumstances colour my perception of Rory. Of his sincerity. Of her love for him.
In the weeks since Fin and Rory have been back together, I have taken it upon myself to apologise approximately six million times. Though not always in person because that would seriously damage our relationship. And I don’t have the time or the cashflow to make the journey to London that often. And the closer I’d stood to her while making these apologies, the higher the chance she’d have slapped me. Instead, I’ve settled for saying it in other ways. I’ve cried it down a phone line. I’ve sent texts scattered with crying emojis and broken hearts. I’ve sent lengthy emails; lots of heartfelt words that post-pregnancy Ivy might live to regret. After the last one, Fin threatened to block my number and email address, but so far, I’ve escaped. My most successfully apology to date has been the delivery ofI’m sorryballoons along with a box of cupcakes spelling out the same. I’d had them delivered to Rory’s cottage after the pair had travelled up to view the restoration works on Tremaine House. It was Fin’s first time in the village since she’d left, and the first time I’d seen Rory, post-reconciliation, face to face. Talk about awkward. Unsurprisingly, Mac made himself scarce that weekend.
‘I mean it.No more.’ Fin’s head doesn’t move, and though her gaze may be only for Rory, the quirked brow? That’s all mine.
I sigh, a little long and a little loud, but struggle to pour it into my words, my grousing response bubbling up half huff, half snotty sob. ‘You spoil all my bloody misery.’ My vision immediately blurs. ‘Christ, Nat’s right. I really should never need to pee these days.’ Fin laughs softly in response. ‘Hormones arenotfunny,’ I continue. ‘You’ll find that out yourself one day.’ Her laughter stops, her hand tightening on mine.
‘Think that’s true?’
‘Er, yeah. Why not?’ My eyes follow the path of hers, and the look that passes between both her and Rory is almost pornographic. No, that’s not right—it’s intimate. So intimate I feel like I’m trespassing. ‘Anyway.’ I clear my throat. ‘Little Vlad will need a playmate, so do me a favour and get on that quick.’
Before she can answer, Natasha appears on my left, handing me a glass of orange juice and a paper napkin concealing a tiny pastry tart.
‘It’s like I’m seeing double,’ she says as I run an index finger under my eyes one more last time.
‘True story,’ agrees Fin, following the direction of her gaze. ‘It’s like the genetic unicorn was in the room at their conception.’
‘Yeah, shaking its magical tail and sprinkling the room with magical, glittery ejaculate.’
‘Have you two been drinking while I wasn’t looking? I almost choked on a tart.’
‘That’s whathe said!’ Nat raises her hand preparing to slap my back, but I ward it off by taking a sip of my orange juice.
‘In this witty riposte, am I to suppose that I’m the tart?’ asks Fin.
‘Take it any way you like. Just take it well, if you know what I mean?’ Nat ends her statement with a bawdy wink.
‘Oh, God. I think my morning sickness is coming back again. If it’s not you making horrible jokes, it must be the looks between the pair of them.’ I point my thumb at Fin, twisting my wrist to point it to the front of the room.
‘Vomit on my shoes and you’re paying for them,’ retorts Nat. ‘And she can’nae help it; just look at them. The odds of creating two people that beautiful must be about the same as gettin’ all numbers and the Powerball.’
As I place my glass on a passing tray, Kit taps his champagne glass with a piece of silverware. The murmur of conversation around us peters out as all eyes join Fin’s, the genetic unicorn offspring now the focus of the room. Rory stands slightly to the right of his brother, and it’s just so weird seeing them side by side. Yes, they’re incredibly handsome, but the fact they’re almost a mirror image of the other is so trippy, I’m pleased I can’t currently drink champagne. They have the same thick chestnut hair, gorgeous grey eyes, and cheekbones that could probably slice ham.Ah, ham...
Pregnancy is proving a trial to my vegetarianism the last few days.
‘What happens if you get in’tae bed with the wrong brother?’ asks Nat.
Fin sniggers, and I tell them to shush. ‘People will hear!’
‘So?’ Nat snorts. ‘Seriously, though,’ she asks, her head turning to Fin again. ‘How’d you tell them apart?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she demurs, smiling.And still looking at him.
‘Would I be asking if it was,’ Nat answers in the same simpering though slightly sarcastic tone. ‘Are you gonnae tell me Kit has an unsightly freckle on his left ballock, or something?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘That there is a cryin’ shame.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. He’s gay, not dead,’ I interject.
‘You’d better ask him about that because I watched him flirt with a waitress at dinner last week, and I’m pretty sure the way he looked at her made the girl pregnant.’
‘He was probably being smart; it pays to be nice to the wait staff.’
