As we drain the last of the bottle of wine that followed the champagne, Dad and I have somehow got on to the subject of robot vacuum cleaners.
‘My mate Donny bought one,’ he says. ‘His husband Matthew is something of a neat-freak and is always calling out Donny for not doing his share of the housework. So Donny bought this robot vacuum and got into the habit of leaving it to clean the downstairs when they were getting ready for work. What he didn’t factor in was they have a Great Dane, Napoleon, and one morning poor Napoleon got a bad case of the squits.’
‘Noooo!’ I say, laughing and clamping my hand to my mouth.
‘Yup. Donny and Matthew went downstairs to find the whole kitchen looking as if there had been a dirty protest.’
‘Eww, that is so horrible.’ I’d forgotten what good company my dad can be. It doesn’t make him any less useless, but credit where credit’s due. It’s a welcome, if temporary, distraction from the fact that my life has imploded. ‘We need tequila!’ I announce, jumping up.
‘What? On a school night?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, rummaging through the cupboard. ‘Why not?’ I pour us both a shot and raise my glass. ‘Here’s to you not being an alcoholic!’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ he says, knocking back his drink. ‘Tequila always reminds me of your mum.’
‘Really? I never had Mum down as a tequila woman.’
‘She wasn’t really but we ended up in this Mexican restaurant on our first date and I persuaded her frozen margaritas were a good idea. You might not be here today if it wasn’t for margaritas.’
‘Ha,’ I say. ‘She only fell for you because she had her beer goggles on.’
‘Hey,’ he says, pretending to be offended. ‘That and the fact I was a great kisser. Have I ever told you—’
‘That actual fireworks went off when you first kissed her? Yes, you have, but only about eleven billion times.’
He laughs. ‘Well, it was amazing. We were walking back through the park, and we kissed and, at that exact moment, fireworks went off in the distance. To this day, I don’t know what they were for. It wasn’t as if it was new year or anything.’
Pain stabs at my guts. Actual fireworks didn’t go off the night Mark and I first kissed, but it was pretty special.
Suddenly, I realise with a flash of clarity that I haven’t fought hard enough for Mark. WE ARE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER. And, yeah, he’d got a few pre-wedding jitters, but that was all it was, and I have to fight for him. ‘Let’s have one more tequila.’
‘Okay,’ Dad says. ‘What are we drinking to this time?’
‘Courage.’