Beck and I wandered from one empty blanket to another looking for our names.
“People are different. You can’t know someone just by virtue of the fact their family has money.” Beck was looking at name cards intently, and I wasn’t sure if he was ignoring me or hadn’t heard me. “There we are,” I said, spotting my name two blankets farther up, at the very edge of the party. I kicked off my ballet flats and took a seat.
“Have you thought anymore about confronting Matt or Karen—or even better, both of them?” he asked, handing me the card while he unbuckled the hamper.
“You might enjoy making enemies, but I don’t.”
“It’s not about making enemies. It’s about standing up for yourself.”
There was no point in having this conversation again. It wasn’t as if I’d helped Karen pick out her wedding gown or was a bridesmaid or something. “Well, if I had confronted her, I wouldn’t have been invited this week and you wouldn’t be here. So, count yourself lucky and zip it.”
He chuckled, handing me two wine glasses. “Yeah. Okay. Point taken. I just don’t get it, that’s all.”
I spotted Florence and Bea on the other side of the sea of blankets, down by the river. Karen must have given them a blanket for four.
“Look, Florence is waving,” Beck said.
I nodded. “Yeah. She’s over there with Bea and there’s Jo, too,” I said, spotting the rest of our gang.
“No doubt your good friend Karen was in charge of the seating plan.”
“Come on,” Beck said, standing up. “We’re going to take our blanket over there.” He tugged at the green wool I was sitting on. “Get up.”
“Beck, no. We can’t. There’s a seating plan for a reason. Anyway, it doesn’t matter if we’re back here.”
“We bloody well can.” He scooped up the hamper. “This week is difficult enough for you without her seating you nowhere near your friends.”
“It won’t be malicious from her perspective,” I said, not entirely believing it. She probably hadn’t wanted me in her eyeline as a reminder of what she’d done, although in that case she shouldn’t have invited me.
“I suppose it depends on your definition of malicious. If not giving a shit about you or your feelings is malicious, then that’s the least she’s being. Get up,” he said again, “or I’ll put you over my shoulder and carry you. If you won’t stick up for yourself, I’ll do it for you.”
I shivered. I couldn’t remember any man coming to my rescue before. I wasn’t used to a man who worried about my feelings or the enjoyment of my day.
Something ignited inside me, giving me energy, and I got to my feet.
Matt should have been that guy.
He should have been the man who wanted better for me than I wanted for myself, who stood up for me and did things to make my day better.
Because we’d been together for so long, what I had and what I should expect for myself had melded together and I’d lost sight of what I was worth. Beck might be a fake boyfriend, but on every measure, he was better than Matt had ever been.
He was nicer to me. More respectful. He was in my corner—batting for me, cheering me on. Not to mention more handsome, funnier, and a better kisser.
Matt had done me a favor by dumping me. The constant, subtle putdowns, the lack of affection and kindness, not to mention the way he always pushed his needs to the top of the list, even if I’d let him. Beck had provided me with a new normal, and I could never go back now.
It really said something when having a fake boyfriend was better than having a real one.
Instead of sadness, the realization about Matt freeing me provided relief. And uncertainty—if I’d been wrong about Matt for so long, what else was I wrong about? Who else?
Before I got a chance to overthink, Beck tucked the blanket under his arm and made his way between the other guests. I had no choice but to follow him as I hastily put my shoes back on and gathered the wine glasses. Although it felt a bit naughty, it also felt liberating. For once, I was doing something to make myself happy.
“Hi,” Beck said, as we arrived at the spot where all my friends were. “Do you mind if we join you?”
“Of course not,” Florence said. “I don’t know why you weren’t over here with us in the first place. And who the hell has assigned seating at a picnic anyway?”
Beck shot me an I-told-you-so look and, despite him being a tiny bit irritating, I couldn’t help but admire how he just didn’t give a shit. It felt like a small victory over Karen and Matt, and Beck was the man who’d made it happen.
“Who’s having wine?” Beck asked, offering up the bottle in our basket. When everyone passed, he filled my glass and put a few mouthfuls in his. “Day drinking and staring out at that river,” he said as we all looked through the screen of willow branches