The Best Man

by Dianne Blacklock

  ‘I gather Henry doesn’t know?’

  Madeleine shook her head. ‘I haven’t been back home yet.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Friday night, when we got back to the apartment.’

  Liv dropped her head into her hands. ‘I knew I should have made you come home with me.’

  ‘Why, did you suspect this was on the cards?’

  ‘Of course not, or I definitely would have made you come home with me, even if I’d had to drag you.’ Liv bit on the side of her thumb, thinking. ‘You know, I wasn’t sure about Aiden. I know he’s gorgeous and charming and all, but there was something that bothered me. He seemed a little too charming, and a little too familiar.’ She looked at Madeleine as if remembering something. ‘Why did he go with you to your dress fitting?’

  ‘That was nothing, he just had some time to kill before a flight.’

  ‘It was a bit weird.’

  ‘Nothing happened there. He was totally all, “Henry’s the luckiest man alive.” The whole time he’s been so pleasant, and charming, like you said. So different to Henry.’

  ‘But not in a good way, as it turns out.’

  ‘No, not in a good way at all,’ said Madeleine. Liv didn’t know the half of it. ‘But look, I can’t make him the villain of the piece.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly call him the hero. He slept with his best friend’s fiancée.’

  ‘And I slept with my fiancé’s best friend.’

  Liv shook her head. ‘Why, Mad?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Everything was getting to me – living way up there, Henry working all the time. Having Aiden around just brought it into sharp relief.’

  ‘But why wouldn’t you talk to Henry?’ said Liv. ‘Tell him all that, instead of sleeping with his best man. It’s just so . . .’

  ‘Tacky. And deplorable. And unforgivable.’ Madeleine took a breath. ‘I’m not making excuses, Liv, but . . . I think I might have a drinking problem.’

  ‘Oh, you definitely have a drinking problem.’

  Madeleine blinked. ‘You’ve noticed?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You know you almost lost your job over it?’

  ‘What – when?’

  ‘A couple of years ago, during that “going off the rails” period you always refer to.’

  ‘You were going to fire me?’

  ‘Jane was getting close – she wanted to give you a warning, but I said I’d take care of it. That’s why you only got one author at the festival that year. And that was Henry. And then everything changed.’

  Madeleine pressed her lips together, trying to stem more tears.

  ‘God, poor Henry,’ Liv murmured.

  ‘I know.’ Madeleine’s face crumpled. ‘I can’t stand that I’m going to hurt him. It’s so unfair, he didn’t do anything to deserve this . . .’ Her voice trailed off, finally dissolving into tears. She felt Liv’s hand on her back again, and then her arm drawing around her as she shifted closer.

  ‘When are you going to tell him?’ Liv asked. ‘You are going to tell him?’

  ‘Of course. I couldn’t keep this from him, I could never live with myself. And I have to do it tonight. I’ve been putting it off, staying at the apartment.’

  ‘With Aiden?’

  ‘No! I sent him packing on Saturday morning.’

  ‘He didn’t go back up to Pittwater, did he?’

  Madeleine shook her head. ‘He’s keeping a low profile. I told him not to come anywhere near me, and he said he was going to tell Henry he was taking a trip for a few days. Give me a chance to talk to him first.’

  Liv was thoughtful. ‘Tell me, did Aiden have any defence for his part in all of this, any justification?’ she asked. ‘I mean, I’d like to know what was going on in his head while he was screwing his best mate’s fiancée. Sorry for being crass.’

  ‘It’s all right, it is crass.’ Madeleine considered how to answer Liv’s question. ‘Aiden has some strange attitudes, some of the things he said . . . it’s almost as if he’s jealous of Henry. He said it had been “brewing” between us since the day he arrived. Reckoned he could see how unhappy I was and that Henry had it coming.’

  ‘Bastard.’ Liv looked disgusted. ‘You know, he was playing you like a cheap guitar. He was the one who suggested the drinking game –’

  ‘I don’t know, I think it might have been Ren.’

  ‘Well, he seconded it, and he bought the tequila,’ said Liv. ‘You know I had to pull him aside and tell him to take you home, when you were all talking about kicking on? Bloody hell, I should have kept my mouth shut. You would have been better off getting blind drunk – then maybe you would have just passed out instead of sleeping with him.’

  Madeleine sighed deeply. ‘There’s a great pair of alternatives. Be a drunk or a slut . . . seems I managed to be both at once.’

  Liv looked at her. ‘How do you think Henry’s going to take it?’

  ‘How do you think?’ Madeleine said. ‘He’s never going to be able to forgive me for this, and I don’t blame him.’

  ‘I don’t know, Henry seems like the type who would forgive almost anything.’

  ‘But I’m not even going to ask for his forgiveness. I don’t deserve it, just like Rick didn’t deserve yours.’

  ‘It’s not quite the same, Mad. Rick was a serial adulterer, and there’s no coming back from that. But this is not who you are, I know that, and I’m sure Henry will too. This is a one-off, terrible mistake that you’re never going to repeat.’

  Now was not the time to tell Liv that it wasn’t, in fact, a one-off.

  ‘Is that how you thought about Rick after the first time?’ Madeleine asked.

  ‘I did, at least I hoped,’ said Liv. ‘It was after the second time that it got harder . . .’

  Madeleine’s heart sank. She had to face the consequences. Her father had always been big on that, accepting the consequences of your actions. It was the way he’d brought her up. She wondered what he would think of her right now; it was the first time she’d ever been relieved he wasn’t here, so he couldn’t see the mess she’d made of her life.

  ‘Henry will come around,’ Liv was saying. ‘He has to, the wedding’s less than a fortnight –’

  ‘There’s not going to be any wedding,’ Madeleine said flatly.

  ‘Really? You’d seriously call the whole thing off?’

  ‘Of course. I can’t make him go through with it just because I’ve bought a dress and we’ve paid deposits. That’s the least of our worries.’ Madeleine stared down at the floor. ‘Henry didn’t even want all the hoo-ha anyway, it’s certainly not going to bother him to cancel.’

  ‘Oh, Mad . . .’

  ‘It’s all right, I’m not going to fall apart.’ She felt it was important to stress that to Liv. ‘And I am going to get this drinking issue sorted.’

  ‘How do you plan to do that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Madeleine. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready for a group thing, but I’d like to talk to someone, like a drug and alcohol counsellor, who can help me figure things out. Maybe I am an alcoholic, I honestly don’t know. All I know is that I was happy with Henry, and as soon as I started drinking, to excess anyway, I decided that Henry was the problem, not the drinking.’

  ‘You should tell him all that,’ Liv said. ‘It’s a pretty big deal, isn’t it, admitting that you have a problem?’

  ‘Doesn’t mean he wants to take it on.’ And besides, it was the same excuse she’d used the first time. How many chances was he expected to give her? Who could live like that? Madeleine knew this was going to destroy all trust they had between them. And without trust, what hope did they have?

  They heard noises out in the office. People were starting to drift back in after lunch.

  ‘Why don’t you go home?’ said Liv. ‘You’re not going to be good for anything until you deal with this.’

  But Madeleine shook her head.
‘No, I need to prove to you that at least I can do my job, that you can count on me. I’m going to lose Henry, I can’t lose this as well.’

  ‘You’re not going to lose your job. I know from experience that you’re capable of pulling yourself together, that you went to the brink and came back from it. You should tell Henry about that. He didn’t really know you then, he’s only seen you at your best.’

  Not exactly. ‘Anyway,’ Madeleine really wanted to change the subject, ‘you should be the one going home, Liv. You have a child recovering from surgery and I’ve been sitting here, dumping my problems on you.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Liv. ‘In any case, I’ve still got to talk to Jane, and she couldn’t see me until after lunch. I’ll go after that.’

  ‘Let me give you back your jacket,’ said Madeleine, getting up and slipping it off her shoulders.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Liv said, standing up.

  ‘Yeah, the rain looks like it’s clearing. Besides, I’m not going to need it, I’ll be going straight to the car from the office.’

  Madeleine handed her the jacket, and as Liv took it, she suddenly wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight. ‘You’re not a bad person, Mad.’

  ‘I’m going to cry if you keep this up.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Liv, drawing back to look at her. ‘I hope it goes all right, or as well as can be expected, anyway.’

  Madeleine managed a weak smile. ‘Give Dylan a high five from me,’ she said, before walking out into the main office.

  4 pm

  Madeleine decided to call it a day. She’d made it through the afternoon, meeting with the girls and focusing on work issues rather than her own. It gave her mind a break, and at least she felt she’d achieved something, apart from making a bogus order for a wedding cake.

  Liv had left more than an hour ago, while Natalie still hadn’t shown her face, and was unlikely to now. Madeleine collected up her things and got all the way down to the underground carpark before remembering that her car wasn’t here, it was at the apartment. Nuts. When was she going to get it right today? She caught the lift back up to street level and then got a taxi to her building. There was no need to go up to the apartment, so she swiped her card and went straight down to the garage, relieved to finally get into her car. Then she remembered that she hadn’t messaged Henry yet. She took out her phone and typed, Leaving city now.

  As she drove out of the carpark, she heard the beep of her phone. She checked it at the next lights. Look forward to seeing you soon. Madeleine doubted he was going to feel that way later.

  While usually the trip seemed to take forever, today it felt as though she was turning into their street all too soon, and she’d even taken the long way home, along the coast instead of the Wakehurst Parkway, her sense of dread growing with every kilometre.

  Madeleine pulled into the garage and cut the engine. As she climbed out of the car she could feel a chill rising off the water. The sky was clear now, but the absence of cloud cover meant that as the sun started its descent, so did the temperature. She shivered as she slipped on her Crocs and made her way down the stairs to the front door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob for a moment, taking a deep breath, preparing herself. As though she could ever be prepared for this.

  When she pushed open the door and stepped inside, the house felt warm and welcoming. There was even soft music playing in the background: Henry was clearly doing a bit of scene setting. Her heart felt heavy as she closed the door behind her, dropping her bag and keys on the table in the entranceway.

  ‘Madeleine?’ Henry called. He walked across the living area to meet her, wiping his hands on a tea towel before flicking it over his shoulder. Madeleine stopped short as he approached, unsure of what to do. It felt wrong to kiss him hello as though everything was normal. But what was she supposed to do? Block him? Not respond? That’d only be worse. She just had to go with the flow for now; she could hardly blurt, ‘I slept with Aiden’ right from the get-go, just for the sake of full disclosure.

  She wouldn’t have had a chance anyway, because Henry walked right over to her and caught her up in his arms, holding her tight. Madeleine felt like a fraud, but she relished it all the same. It might be the last time . . .

  He drew back, cupping her face in his hands and planting a firm kiss on her lips. ‘I missed you,’ he said, taking hold of her arms. ‘You’re cold,’ he added, giving them a gentle rub.

  ‘I didn’t dress very appropriately today,’ Madeleine explained. ‘Actually, I was thinking of taking a quick shower, changing into something warmer?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, releasing her. ‘I was just starting dinner. It’s still early.’ He smiled down at her. ‘It’s good to have you home, Madeleine.’

  She mustered up a smile in return, and then hurried across the living room towards their bedroom, while Henry returned to the kitchen. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said, as she disappeared up the hall.

  ‘Not a problem, take your time.’

  Madeleine was relieved to get out of the flimsy dress and into the shower. She realised she hadn’t felt really warm, through to her bones, all day. After standing under the blissfully hot stream of water for five minutes, she finally dragged herself out, drying herself as she drifted back into the bedroom. She pulled on her most comfortable jeans and a worn but cosy long-sleeved T-shirt. She probably looked daggy, but she was craving comfort right now. She slipped on some bedsocks and then walked back into the bathroom to hang up her towel, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was bedraggled, and there were smudges of mascara under her eyes. Although it hardly mattered, she really should make at least a bit of an effort, Henry had been so pleased to see her. She cleaned her face and pulled a brush through her hair, staring at her reflection. How was she going to get through this? She wandered back into the bedroom, gazing at Henry’s side of the bed, an ache rising painfully in her throat. She reached to pick up his pillow and sat down, hugging it to herself, breathing in the smell of him, missing him already. But she was only tormenting herself. She put the pillow back in place and smoothed out the cover.

  When Madeleine returned to the living room, Henry was standing at the stove, stirring a large pot with a wooden spoon. ‘Feel better?’ he asked.

  ‘Much better, thanks.’

  ‘I poured you a glass of wine,’ he said, picking it up and holding it out to her.

  Ugh. Madeleine took it from him, but she had no intention of drinking; the very thought of it made her sick. But now Henry was raising his own glass to her.

  ‘What shall we drink to?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said weakly. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘We could drink to the future?’

  Hell. This was so hard. She held her glass up to his, trying to control the trembling in her hand. ‘To the future.’ She took a tiny sip, barely letting the wine touch her tongue. It made her feel nauseous. If this repulsion kept up, it was certainly not going to be difficult to give it up for good.

  ‘What are you cooking?’ she asked him. ‘It smells amazing.’

  ‘I made chilli.’

  And just getting harder. Madeleine had never tasted American-style chilli before Henry made it for her, and now she couldn’t get enough. He knew how much she loved it; he was trying so hard. And she was a monster.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely, sliding onto a stool. ‘It’s my favourite.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, turning back to stir the pot.

  Madeleine watched him, thinking. She realised that this might be her last opportunity to find out all those things she couldn’t answer about him the other night, and she suddenly wanted to know everything, before the ship went down.

  ‘Hey Henry, what’s your favourite food?’

  ‘You know me, I’ll eat anything.’

  ‘Except strawberries,’ she said.

  He glanced across at her with a faint smile, like he was flattered she’d remembered. ‘That’s right.’
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  ‘So what happens if you eat them? You never told me.’

  ‘Well, when I was little they just gave me hives, apparently. My mom eventually worked it out, so she stopped feeding me strawberries. Then there was this time, it was at Aiden’s, actually, I’d forgotten all about it, and I bit into one. While it was still in my mouth my tongue started to swell up, and then my lips, and then I couldn’t breathe.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Madeleine, ‘that must have been awful!’

  ‘Hm, but luckily someone had an EpiPen –’

  ‘Are you serious? Someone just happened to have an EpiPen?’

  ‘Yeah. It was a party, and their friends were all doctors and lawyers. One of the doctors stuck me with the EpiPen, and I was okay in a few minutes.’

  ‘What if he hadn’t been there?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Henry, seemingly unperturbed. ‘I suppose someone would have known CPR, called an ambulance.’

  ‘You’re terribly blasé about it.’ As Aiden had been, cruel even. ‘You might have died. Doesn’t that worry you now?’

  ‘No, because I know not to eat strawberries.’

  She couldn’t help smiling at that. ‘Are you allergic to anything else?’

  He shook his head. ‘The Carmichaels insisted I get checked out by some allergy specialist after that, a friend of theirs. Strawberries are it. It’s a rare allergy, but at least it’s single-minded.’

  Madeleine couldn’t get over the way Aiden had joked about it. What was wrong with him? Henry’s life had been threatened, you don’t joke about something like that.

  ‘What a horrible thing to go through,’ she murmured.

  ‘It was a long time ago.’

  She rested her chin in her hand, gazing at him across the kitchen, thinking of her next question. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘What’s your favourite colour?’

  He looked intrigued. ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Because I never have.’

  He leant back against the bench. ‘I’ve never thought about it. I work with colour all the time, so I can’t really play favourites.’ But he seemed to be giving it some consideration. ‘I guess if I had to choose one, it would be the colour of your eyes. I’ve tried to reproduce it, you know, but I’ve never been able to.’