Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
“Grow up. Get dressed.”
Laughing, I turn for the door. “You’re no fun, William Walker.”
“Please. I’m the best you’ve ever had, Laurence Cole.”
Yeah. Yeah, you are.
William
I won’t cry. I’m not going to be that guy. I should study Ben, maybe ask him to share his secret, because if anything he looks bored.
She sure is beautiful, though, and it’s nothing to do with the elegantly simple dress or the pinned-up hair. The pearls in her ears or the flowers in her hands. It’s her smile. The smile that lifts her cheeks to her eyes. The smile I claimed as my favourite so many years ago. The smile I’m eternally grateful she found again. Today, Becca is giving it to someone else, to a man named Russell Jeffries, and my mind is flooded with every emotion I’ve ever felt for the incredible woman exchanging rings at the front of the room.
Laurence holds my hand, squeezing at all the right times. He always knows how I’m feeling. At first, before we got together, I thought his senses were some kind of gay thing. Like he could tell, somehow, that I was gay, too. Now, though, I realise it’s just a love thing.
There’s an audible sniff beside me. I turn my face, see Lucy pat a tissue under her eye. I ache to hug her, but that’s not my job anymore, not while Tiger’s here doing it for me. His arm is around her shoulders, his other hand resting on her massive belly that I still do a double take at every time she walks into the room. Twenty-one and pregnant. Older than Becca and I were when we became first-time parents, but I still couldn’t stop my stomach sinking with worry at the news, not that I let it show in my expression. Lucy’s thrilled, and Tiger, as it turns out, is a decent lad who I’ve come to like a lot, but that wouldn’t stop me regretting every ounce of oxygen he takes if he ever hurts my daughter.
But I’m going to be a grandad. Under forty, and a grandad.
Fucking hell.
Ben, at least, is happy focusing on his career and, after doing a good stint in the mechanics business, ended up pursuing graphic design, which he’s now studying at university while still living at home with Becca and Russell.
When Becca and Russell are pronounced husband and wife, it’s my turn to squeeze Laurence’s hand. I’m not embarrassed to admit a small tear wets the rim of my left eye, either. I blink it away, wipe it from my cheek. We stand alongside everyone else while the newlyweds make their debut walk to the exit of the registry office, and a tearful Audrey reaches over from the row in front, patting the top of my arm.
Audrey and I talk now. It took a few months of ‘accidental’ encounters that were blatantly orchestrated by Becca and Lucy. Plenty of dirty looks, awkward silences followed by snide remarks and, finally, one huge argument later, we made our peace. It wasn’t long after that when Becca met Russell. Or rather, reconnected with him. She’s actually known him for over a decade, as colleagues at her old bank. She got a new job. They lost touch. He found her again on Facebook.
Fate’s real, apparently.
The registry office starts to empty. Guests follow Becca and Russ outside and, eventually, there are only a handful of us left.
“Does it feel strange?” Laurence asks. “Seeing her marry someone else?”
I feel like it deserves a moment’s consideration, but I come to a conclusion very quickly. “No. Honestly, I just feel incredibly happy for her.”
He kisses my cheek. I feel him smile against it.
“Come on, you two, we’re gonna miss the photos,” Lucy says, her belly reaching me before she does. “My followers have been waiting all day for this. I can’t miss it.”
“Bloody followers,” I mumble, chuckling to myself. Turning to Laurence, I add, “You enabled all this, you know.”
He clutches his chest, feigns offence. “It’s a legitimate industry these days. Stop being such an old man.”
I know he must be right, because my daughter is making quite the income from posting photos on the internet, which isn’t as seedy as it sounds. I can’t say I understand it. Over two million people follow her Instagram page just to see her post pictures of her bloody breakfast, what clothes she’s ordered online, to watch her provide hair tutorials or see her put make up on her face. Granted, it’s a beautiful face that I take great pride in having played a part in creating, but even I don’t take the time to watch her apply mascara while telling me all about the shape of the damn wand.
Maybe I am an old man, but it doesn’t revoke Laurence’s responsibility in all this, given her life as an ‘influencer’ only took off when her association with Laurence Cole escaped. A couple of photos with him and, boom, followers came in their hundreds. And kept coming. I was surprised she didn’t mind, that she didn’t fight about wanting to make it on her own. If anything, she welcomed the leg up, said, in front of Laurence, what was the point in having a celebrity in the family if we can’t make use of the perks, too?