Free The Slowest Cut by Catriona King Page B

to start the real conversation, knowing it would take John an hour to get round to it.
    “So what was so bad that you wanted to start drinking at six o’clock, without even taking time to change?”
    John stared into his beer, unconsciously tapping a rhythm against the glass with his thumb. Craig watched him absentmindedly for a moment, then his eyes widened in astonishment.
    “My God! You’re getting married.”
    John looked at Craig, aghast, unsure how he’d guessed what he wanted to talk about. “What? No. No I’m not. I’m definitely not getting married. Where the hell did you get that idea?”
    Craig grinned and pointed at his hand. “You’ve just been tapping the wedding march against the side of the glass. Da-dat-da-da.”
    “I wasn’t!” John stared at his errant thumb as if it belonged to someone else. “Was I?”
    “Yep!”
    “Bloody hell. My subconscious should know better than to tap that in front of someone who’s Mum played classical music to him in the womb.”
    Craig’s Italian mother Mirella had been a concert pianist and she’d force-fed her children classical music all their lives.
    “My Mum has nothing to do with it. A man on a galloping horse could have worked that one out.” Craig lifted his class in salute. “When’s the big day?”
    “What? Don’t talk rubbish! There’s no big day, and for God’s sake don’t say that in front of Natalie or I’ll be fitted for tails before I can blink. I haven’t asked her.”
    “Yet.”
    John furrowed his brow and Craig knew that was what he’d wanted to discuss.
    “If you want my opinion on whether or not you should propose to Natalie, then the answer’s yes.”
    John blustered. “Now hang on, I didn’t say that.”
    “Look mate. If you’re even thinking about doing it, that means you want to, and in my opinion it would be a bloody good thing.”
    John scowled. “I didn’t ask your opinion.”
    Craig was unoffended, but now that the horse had got to water he wasn’t going to let it die of thirst. He continued undeterred.
    “What did you want to ask me then?”
    “Well…I feel...”
    John stopped mid-sentence and Craig filled in the gap. “Confused?” He glanced at the clock and laughed, amused at his friend’s discomfort. “Hungry?”
    “What? No. I’m not hungry… Well I am.” John was always hungry. “But that’s not it. I…I feel guilty.”
    Craig gawped at him. What did he have to feel guilty about?
    “I feel I should make some sort of commitment to her. After all, we’ve been together for well over a year. It doesn’t seem right to keep on living in sin.”
    “You’re not. She has her own place.”
    John shot him an anguished glance. “You know what I mean.”
    Craig could see that he was genuinely upset so he eased up on the banter. “You mean that you love her too much not to make a commitment.”
    John nodded. “Does that sound all Jane Austen and shit?”
    Craig laughed. “And shit? Any minute now you’re going to break into a rap. No, it doesn’t sound all Jane Austen and shit. Or maybe it does, but so what? Natalie’s perfect for you. You love her and you want to be fair to her. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
    John gulped down a mouthful of beer, then gazed warily at Craig over the top of the glass.
    “So you think that I should?”
    “Well, I’m hardly a success story romantically, but if you want my opinion I think you should do what will make you happy. You’re obviously not happy just dating Natalie anymore, so you either need to formalise things or break up. Do you want to break up with her?”
    John’s face dropped. “God no. I’d…”
    Craig didn’t make him say it. “OK, then breaking-up’s not an option. Marriage then? Or co-habiting.”
    “No.”
    The ‘no’ was so firm it took Craig a moment to realise that he didn’t know which ‘no’ John had meant.
    “No to co-habiting, or no to marriage?”
    “No to co-habiting. I don’t like it. It’s a cop-out. And