She rolls her eyes, nearly smiling, but visibly resisting. "That's cute. Is that me?" He beams, but she's quick to eliminate his smile, not quite as amused. "I know you went back. I just don't understand why." Or who was with him, unconvinced he had gone alone. "It sounds like Max had it sorted."
"Yes, god bless Max Jakobs. What would we do without him." His tone is clipped, sarcastic, but he doesn't roll his eyes in return, smiling instead, one of the empty and insincere ones with nothing behind it.
She sighs, raising her sunglasses as she looks up at him, settling them on the top of her head. A lock of blonde hair is tucked behind her ear and she begins slowly, trying to decide how to begin. "They're mates. If somebody said something like that about me, you'd do the same."
The protest is there on his lips, waiting for him to shake his head and set it free, and he obeys, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as his disagreement makes itself known. "When would I have time? I'd be busy trying to peel Marc off him so nobody goes to jail."
"So you're angry that you took too long," she says and knows it was the wrong conclusion by the way his body stiffens, shoulders squaring. She winces as she sits up fully, patting the end of the chair and drawing her legs in to sit cross-legged. When he doesn't move, she taps it again, nodding her head towards the spot on which she wants him to sit, then reaches up to tug at his arm. He yanks it from her grasp, folding them across his chest and taking half a step back. "All I meant is that it's alright that other people care too, babe. They've been through quite a lot together and you can't be angry that --" she pauses, frowning as the corners of her mouth turn down. "It's like being angry at someone for protecting their sister."
"I understand the nature of their friendship," he says blankly, feeling the cold set in. She exhales loudly through her nose, unafraid of expressing her frustration with so much time in. "And all of this was my idea."
"Then you've no reason to be upset."
"I specifically --" he begins, but shakes his head. It's beginning to slip, and he can feel it, the emotionality, creeping back in, and wants to push it down. Andy has a lot of feelings. Andy is soft. Andy can barely keep himself together, never mind save someone else. He swallows, and it's like swallowing his heart. "I want her to be happy. Having him around makes her happy."
"Then you should sit with the two of them, Harlowe and Max, and play nice. If you want people to believe things can be back to normal, you've got to let go--"
"I died, Katherine." His voice rises but remains even, the sentence loud but level, and she waves her hand to tell him to lower it, smiling uncomfortably at the guests around them. He complies, but just barely. "Do you remember that? I fucking died and they brought me back. Tell me: which of you ever made her feel shit for not being there when things were at their worst. Did you?"
"No, but--"
"But what? Did Marc? Ian? Alan? Doug? Amy?" He marks off the names with a finger before finally tossing up his hands in exasperation. "Not a single fucking one of you cos you all valued that friendship. I fucking died. Alone. And you invited her to your wedding."
Her face softens and before she can start the sentence, he stops her. "Don't. Don't fucking apologise to me. Give me one fucking day of not feeling emasculated and fuck off."