The Bastard Takes a Wife (21 page)

“But they needed me.”

“And I need you, too. You’re so insensitive.
Through this whole thing, you’ve done nothing but laugh every time
something went wrong or stick your head in the sand while I copped
the shit. The only time you showed me you loved me was when you
thought you were going to lose me to Josh. And I don’t know if
that’s because you loved me or because you were jealous.”

“But I
do
love you. You know I do.
You’re my whole world.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“Mill’.”

“No. I’ve had enough of your stupid excuses
and practical jokes and you’re putting rugby before me. I can’t
marry you. The wedding’s off.”

Reaching down, I fingered my engagement ring.
Slowly, I twisted it on my finger. Shit. The damn thing wouldn’t
come off. Seriously, what that hell was wrong with me? Surely, I
hadn’t gained weight in my fingers as well? I tugged and tugged but
the ring was stuck firm.

“Looks like you’ll have to marry me,” Sam
said.

“Oh shut up! This is not a joke. I’m not
marrying you and when I get home and get this ring off you can have
it back.”

And with that I stormed off down the
corridor.

*****

When I got back to the house, Mum was sitting
in the family room having a cup of tea with Adele. Mum was possibly
the only woman in Perth who still drank tea, I think. She didn’t
care. She said it made her feel individual.

As I attempted to slam the sliding door, they
looked over from their conversation.

“Millie, your mother and I were finalising
the details of our outfits for next Saturday. We don’t want to
clash.”

“Or be too matchy-matchy,” Mum added.

“Don’t bother,” I scowled. “The wedding’s
off. I wouldn’t marry Sam Brockton if he were the last man on
Earth. In fact, I’d rather marry Womble.”

“Who’s Womble?” my mother asked,
confused.

“It doesn’t matter, Mum. I’m not getting
married, that’s all.” I burst into tears. Again. Then I raced for
the stairs and my room. I had to get that ring off. Suddenly, it
felt as if it were cutting off my ability to breathe or think or
something.

Half an hour later, finger red raw from
soap-assisted pulling and twisting and the ring back in its box, I
made my way downstairs. Adele and Mum were sitting in the same spot
I’d left them in, holding their cups aloft as if the moment I’d
told them Sam and I weren’t getting married had frozen time.

I scrooched into a spot on the couch next to
Mum. I had this overwhelming urge to be a little girl again and
have her tell me it was going to be okay or give me a hug and a
kiss on the top of my head.

She put her cup of tea down and placed an arm
around my shoulder. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“What happened?”

It came out in floods, big heaving sobbing
floods ~ how Sam had, once again, disregarded any feelings I might
have by playing rugby the week before our wedding. He couldn’t even
give up the stupid game for one day. The fact that he’d got hurt
was secondary. It was the fact that he’d gone behind my back that
had been the final blow.

“And you want to call off the wedding?”

“And the engagement?”

“Are you breaking up with Sam?”

I sat up and wiped my nose on my sleeve. “I
guess I am.”

Adele looked horrified that I had used my
sleeve as a tissue. “I think you need to take some time to think
things through. You don’t want anger and hurt to fuel a hasty
decision. When you’re calmer and more rational, things might seem
different. We don’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill. It
might be pre-wedding jitters.”

“I agree,” Mum added. “Why not sleep on it?
It’s not like we can ring anyone before Monday, anyway. You may
have changed your mind by then.”

I let them talk me into it. Then, legs like
marble, I plodded up the travertine staircase to smother myself
with my doona because I knew I’d never change my mind. Sam and I
were through.

*****

Like a complete coward, I stayed in my room
for the remainder of the weekend with my mobile turned off. I was
too scared to turn it on because I knew Sam would ring and I
couldn’t talk to him. Not yet.

On the bedside table the ring sat in its box,
glinting evilly at me in the sunlight. I should have closed it up
but it was so pretty, I wanted to have a few last looks before I
gave it back. And I’d have to do that. There was no way I was going
to wear the tag with Sam’s family of being the girl who broke his
heart and kept the ring. It was bad enough they thought me a gold
digger.

On Monday morning, pale and subdued, I
bundled the children into the car for the morning school run.
Earlier, I’d rung Sam and told him I wanted to have a chat. He’d
sounded groggy on the other end of the phone but also worried and
we’d agreed to meet at one before I had to pick Paige up from
school early for a dental appointment.

“Are you and Sam getting a divorce?” Paige
asked, from the back of the car. We were stopped at the lights, so
I turned over my shoulder.

“No, we’re not married, so it’s not a divorce
but yes, I am going to break up with him.”

“Why? Don’t you love him anymore?”

How did I explain this to a child? Tapping my
nails on the steering wheel. I stared out into the traffic
considering my answer. “It’s not about love. Sam told me a big lie.
It hurt me a lot.”

From over my shoulder I heard a small
derisive snort, not unlike the type Adele often gave. “Is that all?
Gosh, I thought he was doing the dirty on you or something.”

“Paige!”

“Jennifer Brayshaw-Jones said people always
do that stuff. Her sister dropped her fiancé like hotcakes when she
caught him at it with the au pair.”

“Do you even know what that means?”

“What?”

“Doing the dirty.”

“No, but I think its something to do with mud
or jelly. I asked Mummy and she said it was like being dirty in
mud, like those girls I saw wrestling in jelly on
Foxtel
when I wasn’t supposed to know the code for the grown-ups channel.
That’d be right. Jennifer’s sister is
sooo
O.C.D. She’d have
a breakdown if there was mud or jelly on her.”

I shook my head. Sometimes I had to remind
myself that the child was seven. Barely.

The lights changed and I looked back to the
road. I put on the indicator and steered the Range Rover into the
other lane. Time to change the subject. “So I’ll pick you up at
one. You’ve got your permission note?”

A huge sigh echoed around the car. “Yes. But
do I have to go? Can’t I stay home and watch that
One
Direction
interview? It’s on this afternoon. They’re in
Australia for the Logie Awards, you know.”

Now she was a TV guide.

“Yes, I did know and I’ve set the TV to
record it for you so we can watch it after the dentist. And anyway,
I thought you only loved Justin Bieber.”

“Well, I did when I was six but now I’m older
I love
One Direction
. Liam is very cute. Jennifer likes
Harry but I don’t like his hair. Liam has hair like Sam.”

“I must tell him.” It would be something to
soften the blow after I gave him the ring back.

Paige sighed again.

“You know, it’s a pity I didn’t know that you
and Sam were not being boyfriends and girlfriends anymore. I wanted
to go to the Logies to meet Liam.”

“The Logie Awards are in Sydney, Paige. It’s
four hours by plane from Perth.”

“Well, I know that, silly, but Jennifer asked
me to go with her. Her mum’s assistant got some tickets for the Red
Carpet but because you were getting married, I said no. Now you’re
not getting married and I’m not having a tiara or high heels or
anything. And Jennifer’ll meet
One Direction
and I won’t.
She always beats me at everything.”

From the driver’s seat, I smiled. “Oh well,
we can’t always have what we want in life.”

“I wish Daddy had a plane like Jennifer’s
family. I’d just fly there and meet them and be the winner.”

I pulled the car into the car park and undid
my seat belt. “I imagine you’d like that.”

Paige didn’t answer. She was off in her own
seven-year-old world somewhere.



At lunchtime, I met up with Sam. I’d never
felt so sick in my life. I did love him, truly I did, but somewhere
deep down in my heart, there was this icky feeling sending waves of
nausea around my insides. It was the feeling of indecision, of
sadness and finality and I knew I had to take notice of it. Well, I
didn’t have a choice. Every time I pictured Sam and I walking down
that aisle next Saturday, I rushed to the toilet. And the fact that
he’d withheld something from me ~ again ~ made me even more
apprehensive. It wasn’t good.

I squeezed myself into the booth next to him.
The warmth of his thigh against mine and the fresh smell of his
shirt filled my nostrils but it did little to calm me. My lip was
trembling at the thought of ending it with him or even worse, not
ending it. Still, I was resigned to my decision. It was for the
best, for us both.

I stared up into Sam’s face. For once he
wasn’t smiling or smug.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“So, um, I wanted to give you this….” The
ring box had been searing this great huge hole in my jeans pocket.
It felt like I was being branded. I took it out and placed it on
the table in front of us. “I meant what I said on Saturday. I can’t
marry you.”

Sam looked down at the box. His eyebrows drew
together in a quizzical yet sort of resigned look. His eyes were
very sad. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

I knew he’d dismissed my anger and threats at
the hospital as a heat of the moment thing. But I’d had two days to
mull it over.

“Yes.”

“Is this because of my mother?”

“No! But you have to admit she has been
pretty mean to me.”

“I’ll tell her to back off.”

“It won’t make any difference. I can’t marry
you. It’s too hard being with you.”

Sam’s eyes welled up. Oh shit, he was going
to cry. I couldn’t deal with it if he was going to cry.

“I’m sorry, Mill’. Please. I am. I’ll never
do anything annoying ever again if you’ll forgive me. I’ll even
dance with you and let you watch Kate Hudson movies. Just say you
love me and we can get married.”

“The annoying I can deal with. And the
bastardiness. But the lying hurt.”

“I never lied to you.”

“You did. You said you wouldn’t play and then
you went and did it.”

“Technically, that wasn’t a lie. I just
didn’t tell you.”

I glared at him.

Sam winced as if he was in pain. “Look, it
was a team thing. Can’t you understand? They needed me. Half the
team were down with flu, I had to get out there.”

“You’re not five, Sam. A bunch of boys can’t
make you do anything. And if you want to know, wedding stuff aside,
what worries me is the fact that you put the team in front of me.
If you loved me, I’d be number one. You wouldn’t have considered
playing, not even if you were offered a contract with the
Force
for a day.”

“But…”

“No. No more ‘buts.’ The wedding is off. I
love you. I do. But I can’t do this anymore.”

Tears were spilling out of Sam’s eyes, right
over his big swollen cheekbone and into his stitches. I couldn’t
look. It was breaking my heart. Sliding the ring box into his palm,
I pressed my lips softly to his cheek and shifted along the bench
to the end of the booth.

“Goodbye, Sam.”

*****

I don’t know how I drove back to school to
collect Paige. I don’t remember leaving the café or starting the
car or even parking it. All I could think of was Sam and the look
on his face as I’d left. It had taken years for him to get over the
pain of his previous relationships and now I’d done it to him
again. I’d told him I’d marry him and reneged at the last minute. I
was no better than those gold diggers who’d been after his money.
In some ways I might have been worse. I mean, at least they were
clear in their agendas. I’d said one thing and meant another.

Blinking my tears away, I pulled down the
visor, attempting to put some right back into my reflection before
I went to collect Paige. She’d be the first to notice if I didn’t
look somewhere near normal and I didn’t want to be explaining the
ins and outs of this to her as we sat in the Dentist’s office. I
didn’t have the energy.

I pulled a tissue from my bag and dabbed at
my eyes, taking away the black mascara blotches. God, how had this
happened? Four months ago, Sam and I were happy and in love. We
were planning an intimate wedding with friends and family that had
turned into a fiasco. Instead of doing what we wanted, we’d
compromised to make our families happy. I’d turned from an
easy-going girl in love to a neurotic wreck. Sure, Sam may have
been driving me insane by pretending the wedding didn’t exist or by
agreeing with every suggestion to keep the peace but I was just as
guilty. I’d got so caught up in making people happy, I’d lost sight
of what the wedding was about.

Us.

Over the last four months, I’d become so
confused I didn’t even know which ideas were mine or what I was
saying. Things blurted out of my mouth of their own accord like I
never thought about anything. And every decision, no matter how
well pondered, seemed to be the wrong one. One minute I loved Sam,
then I wanted to wring his neck. I wanted a small cake but ordered
one the size of the Opera House. I didn’t care about dresses but
ended up with a custom designed one. It was so unlike me. And now
I’d done the worst thing of all. I’d broken Sam’s heart. Over a
stupid game of rugby and a teeny white lie. God, what had I
done?