But here we are.
“What is it you like about her?” I ask him.
He takes a breath. “Her spirit, her smart mouth, her wildness. Her laugh. Her smile. The sweetness in her when she lets her guard down. Her pixie nose. The way her hair moves. The way she argues the toss about every fucking thing in the world.”
His words make me smile. He’s right. She’s really quite something.
“We shouldn’t even be contemplating it,” I say. “Neither of us. She’s too young. She’s unpredictable. She needs stability.”
“She needs discipline.” A pause. One of those long pauses I’ve come to know means someone’s about to spit something out. “And love. She needs love too.”
Love.
It’s strange to hear the word come out of Jack’s mouth. He was evasive on the topic even after he got down on one knee for Diana, answering my questions on whether she was really the one with nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders and an it’ll do.
“What the fuck are we gonna do, Mike?”
I have nothing. Nothing but an uneasy churn in my gut as I contemplate the potential outcomes. Jack and her, me and her. Neither of us with her.
Losing my job.
Losing our friendship. My best friendship.
Losing Carrie.
“You’ve known her for weeks. How do you know this wouldn’t be like the others?” I ask.
“She’s already nothing like the others.”
“She’s nothing like anyone.”
He smiles. “You got that right.”
I’ve a suspicion I’ve got everything right, and this whole setup is snowballing into disaster in front of our eyes.
He sighs. “She should choose. It’s not our call.”
Even the concept makes me edgy. Choosing me, choosing him – and I suspect she’d choose Jack, because who wouldn’t? The guy’s great. He’s my best friend for a reason.
“We need to think on this,” I tell him. “We need considered judgement. Her welfare has to be our top priority. Her security comes first, beyond anything else.”
“Agreed,” he says.
I look beyond him to the lights on in Drury’s. “I should get back. I’ve got to get through this leaving party before I can find my bearings. You’ve dropped quite a fucking bombshell on me.”
I’m expecting him to speed off back home to hole up with Carrie just as soon as I make a move, but he doesn’t.
He gets out of the car when I do and bleeps the central locking. “I think I need a drink after all this. Think prissy Pam will mind if I gatecrash?”
The prospect is a good one. Having Jack at my side in Drury’s will be a strangely comforting norm amongst the turbulence.
“I’m sure you’ll be very welcome.”
There’s a smile on my face as we cross the car park. A friendly slap on the back as we head in through the rear entrance.
But an ache in my heart that no amount of rational thought will ever make go away.
Jack
I feel like an absolute prize fucking asshole as we head into Drury’s. Mike might be putting a thoroughly gracious front on it, but my confession has him reeling and I know it.
That’s the thing with Mike – he’s always trying to be the reasonable one. Always trying to do the right thing, for everyone. Not least for me.
And certainly not least for Carrie Wells.
If he was a lesser man, I’m sure he would’ve fucked the girl already. If he was a lesser man, I’m sure he’d have told me to fuck off with my stupid fucking confession after one paltry week of knowing her.
But he’s a better man than I’ll ever be, and in my gut that’s why I know he should be the one to make a move on Carrie, even if I’m the one in danger of recklessness.
Even if I’m the one who’s seen her pretty little tits.
The thought crosses my mind that maybe the little minx is playing both of us for a fool, but I doubt it. If Carrie Wells is playing a game, she’s playing a good one. She seems too sharp to risk pitting the two of us against each other, not least because she seems awfully settled at my place.
It’s like she belongs there already.
I wave to Mike’s colleagues as we step inside the pub, cringing as prissy Pam Clowes jumps from her seat and grabs Mike by the elbow. I think she’s always had a thing for him, even if he’s always been oblivious.
I have to stifle a laugh as she presses her mouth to his ear, as though I’m about to witness another confession of devotion that will leave his brain spinning even faster than it is already.
Pam’s whisper is ragged and harsh and nothing like I was expecting. It’s loud enough that I hear it over the chatter from the leaving party table.