Across from me, India glances up from her phone and shoots me a look. It seems like she wants me to stop talking, but I can’t begin to understand why.
“Right? But they were totally flirting. I know!” I say in response to the shocked expression on his face. “I didn’t believe it, either. But I heard them before I saw them—and trust me, she was chatting him up right back.”
“That’s surprising,” says Edward. He takes another sip of wine, and I follow suit, refilling his glass, then India’s, and finally mine.
“Totally. But, you know, Libby’s never had a boyfriend. I’m sure she’s told you that.”
If he knows, his face doesn’t betray anything.
“I bet he’s a harmless diversion. A way to get a snog in, but nothing serious,” I continue.
We all look down the table at Libby and David. She’s leaning into him, he’s touching her, and the two of them are laughing at each other’s jokes.
Edward bristles. “I don’t think they’re a good idea together.”
India shoots me another look. This one is easier to read. It says: I told you so.
“Why not?” I ask tentatively. “They’re just having fun. What’s the big deal?”
“He’s not good enough for her.”
“He’s good enough for us to be friends with,” I point out.
“Yeah, but being friends is different. He’s too much of an idiot for her to actually date.”
My feminist instincts start to prickle. “It’s not your place to decide who Libby should and shouldn’t get with. And what’s the big deal if she wants to hook up with David? At least it’s not Tarquin. She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”
Edward looks visibly frustrated.
“Anyhow,” I say, irritated that this conversation has taken a weird turn, “it’s not a big deal. She’s rat-arsed. They’ll probably snog for five seconds and won’t even remember it tomorrow.”
“I don’t like it,” Edward says, still fixated. “She’ll get hurt.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“They’re not a good fit. I could see you with him, but not her.”
I’m beyond offended. “Weren’t you just telling me how he’s not good enough for her? But he’s good enough for me? Oh, gee. Thanks a bunch.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It sounded like exactly what you meant.”
“I meant that you’d know how to handle him. Libby’s never even kissed a guy. She needs somebody who respects her.”
I look at him sourly.
“David’s bound to try something with her. She needs somebody looking after her right now, not cheering on some drunken hookup. I don’t like it.”
“You’re not her dad. And, frankly, this entire conversation is irritating me.”
“Well, anyhow, I think—” Edward starts to say, but I push my chair back with a scrape, interrupting him.
“I’m going to the loo.”
In the ladies’ room, I wash my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Why can’t Edward get a clue? Saying that David is good enough for me but not good enough for Libby? That was rude. And implying that I’m not looking after my sister? I stalk back out of the ladies’, ready to give him another piece of my mind, when India intercepts me.
“Take it down a notch,” she says. “Let’s go outside and have a ciggie.”
We go on the back porch and share a cigarette while I vent.
“He’s so full of himself. And I don’t appreciate him mansplaining my sister’s love life!”
India nods.
“It’s like we never even dated!”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” India asks. “It’s the only way we can all hang out with no awkwardness.”
“Yeah, but when Edward starts insulting me, it is awkward.”
“It wasn’t like that,” India says soothingly. “That’s not what he meant. He wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Why are you sticking up for him? And what was with all those bloody looks you kept shooting me?”
India shakes her head. “You’re a smart girl, Charlotte, but sometimes you are shockingly obtuse.”
“Whatever.” I shrug, plucking the cigarette from her fingers and taking a deep drag. “I can’t wait for Christmas. I’m sick of this place. I need a break from Sussex Park.”
“Let’s go back inside,” she says, patting me on the back.
But when we go back inside, Libby and Edward are both gone.
“Where are they?” I ask David, sinking into Libby’s former seat. Flossie and Tarquin look over at me with interest.
“Who?” David asks, looking unsteady. He’s plastered.
“Libby. Edward. Where’d they go?”
“Outside,” says Flossie, leaning over. “They were in the corner whispering, and then they got up and left.”
David shrugs. “What Flossie said.”
I stand up again. “Be right back.”
“Are you going after them?” Tarquin asks.
Flossie shoots him a look. “Butt out.”
“I’m just going to check on Libby and make sure she’s okay. She’s had a lot to drink.”
I walk through the restaurant, weaving my way through the crowded tables and doing my best not to collide with the waiters. For some reason, I have a panicked feeling in the pit of my stomach—like if I don’t make it to Libby in time, something will happen.
I reach the entry vestibule, about to push through the doors and step outside, when I see Libby and Edward through the window. They’re standing together on the pavement in front of the restaurant, the moonlight reflecting off their faces.
When Edward and I were dating, he was so much taller than I was that I had to stand on my tiptoes just to kiss him. But his height matches Libby’s perfectly—they look like two halves of a matched set.
I’m about to go outside and crack a self-deprecating joke about being a Peeping Tom when Edward reaches out and brushes Libby’s hand with his.
What the HELL?
She looks surprised, her eyebrows raised, her arms by her sides. He’s murmuring something indecipherable. He puts his other hand on the small of Libby’s back. As they talk, she reaches up and puts her hand on his face. He leans down, kissing her gently. Libby stands still. She seems paralyzed.
I feel paralyzed, too.
But after a few seconds of Edward leaning down into her, she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him back.
A cold wave of shock pours over my body.
“What the hell is going on?” I say, bursting through the door.
The two of them jump back, startled.
“Charlotte,” Libby says. “It was just . . . we just . . .” She looks terrified. “Are you okay?”
“How could you two do this?”
Edward looks guilty, stuffing his hands into his jeans. “Um . . .”
My heart is pounding. I feel oddly vindicated—obviously everything they told me these past few months has been nothing but lies. “So you two were hooking up behind my back.”
“No!” says Libby. “It wasn’t like that, I swear! Edward and I came out here to talk, and . . .” Her words are coming out all in a rush and her voice is an octave higher than usual. “I’m so sorry, Charlotte. Please don’t be mad.”
I look back and forth between the two of them. I can’t decide if I want to cry or scream, but all I know is I have to get out of here.