Three’s a Crowd by Dianne Blacklock Page A

you.’
    â€˜But you know I thought the world of Annie, and Lexie can’t stop crying. What’s wrong with me?’
    â€˜Nothing,’ said Tom. ‘That’s exactly what I was trying to say. There are these expectations about how you’re supposed to grieve.’
    â€˜I never seem to get it right,’ Rachel shook her head. ‘I have a terrible tendency to laugh when I hear something really sad, or tragic, or serious, or just at totally inappropriate times. It’s so embarrassing.’
    Tom was smiling at her. ‘Like at your wedding.’
    â€˜Oh no, don’t bring that up,’ she protested, covering her face.
    It was possibly the worst thing Rachel had ever done. Poor Sean struggled valiantly through vows he had written himself, while she struggled just as valiantly, though with less success, to suppress the fit of giggles that had seized her. Half the congregation were shocked and dismayed at the bride’s lack of composure, the other half were too busy trying to contain their own laughter.
    â€˜See, I’m a terrible person.’
    â€˜You’re not a terrible person, Rach. They were pretty lame vows.’
    â€˜Oh, come on, at least he tried, God love him.’
    â€˜Whereas you, you had nothing,’ said Tom.
    â€˜Don’t remind me,’ Rachel groaned.
    â€˜I never got to ask you what happened back then. Did you go blank or something?’
    â€˜No. Apparently Catherine put it on my to-do list, but I didn’t see it, or I forgot . . .’
    â€˜You forgot to write your wedding vows?’
    â€˜I thought they told you what to say,’ she defended. ‘Why else do you have the guy with the robes if you’ve got to do it all yourself?’
    Tom smiled, gazing at her across the table.
    â€˜What?’ she asked.
    He shook his head. ‘I’m just glad you’re here. Thanks for staying, Rach.’
    â€˜Don’t mention it.’
    He picked up the bottle of Scotch. ‘So, are you going to help me drown my sorrows?’
    He was almost too pretty for a man, was Tom. He had big, crystal-cut blue eyes framed with thick curled lashes, high cheekbones, bowed lips, and caramel hair tipped with blond that looked like it had been done by a professional, but Annie insisted he never stepped foot in a hairdresser’s, she cut his hair. He’d alwayshad good hair; he wore it longer at uni, surfie-style, his shoulder-length locks bleached bright blond by the sun and sea. Had all the girls drooling over him. Had all the girls, period.
    But for some reason he had taken a seat right next to Rachel in their first lecture, their very first day of first-year Law. She probably looked safe, ordinary, non-threatening, despite the fact that she was desperately trying to look ever so cool and like she absolutely belonged there. How anyone thought they could pull that off in first year, Rachel had no idea. But that was the whole thing. She had no idea.
    â€˜Hi, I’m Tom,’ he’d said as he dropped into the chair. He reminded her of a big friendly puppy.
    â€˜Rachel,’ she nodded.
    â€˜Where are you from, Rachel?’
    She was living in college because she didn’t have any choice. But she was determined to find an alternative, especially before the end of semester, so her parents couldn’t drag her over to London or Madrid in the break.
    However, she wasn’t going to admit to this guy that she lived in college, it didn’t exactly fit with the image she was trying so hard to project. So she just said, ‘I’m a local.’
    â€˜Cool. I’ve come down from Crescent Head, do you know it? Up the north coast? So I’m living in college and it sucks. If you hear of anyone looking to share a place . . .’
    And that’s how she and Tom and a procession of housemates came to share a sprawling old Californian bungalow on the somewhat whimsically named Rainbow Street, for the