Page 26 of Meet Me in Berlin

Eva squeals. ‘What?! Are you serious?’

‘Of course I’m serious,’ Rosa says. ‘You know I don’t joke.’

Eva clamps her hands to her head as though it’s about to explode. ‘You mean the French chef, right? Margot Laurent?’

‘Yes, that name sounds familiar,’ Rosa says.

‘Oh. My. God,’ Dante screeches from the laptop screen. ‘This wedding just gets better and better!’

‘Oh, Mum. Thank you.’ Eva runs over and throws her arms around Rosa.

‘Thank your father. He’s the one who called in a favour,’ Rosa says, returning the hug.

‘Thanks, Daddy!’ Eva yells through to the next room.

Rosa covers her ear. ‘Goodness. I meant when you see him.’

Eva giggles. ‘Sorry. I’m just so excited.’ She turns to Leila, seemingly unaware I’m in the room. ‘Can you believe it?’

Leila shakes her head. ‘No. Her food is incredible, and she rarely does weddings.’

I stay silent, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment that I’m part of this wedding. Like Eva’s read my mind, she spins to face me. ‘Babe, did you hear that?’

I nod. ‘I’m sitting right here, and people in Scotland would’ve heard your squeal.’ I tilt my head. ‘Remind me why we need another chef? I thought that was sorted.’

Eva walks over to me and places her hands on my thighs. ‘I didn’t confirm because I wanted Margot.’

‘You’ve never mentioned her to me, and what about that chef we spoke to a few weeks back? I liked her and she had some Jamaican dishes lined up. My gran was dead excited about that,’ I say. ‘Jazzy’s grandparents, too.’

Eva’s face falls and Rosa says to her, ‘I thought your other options fell through?’

Her eyes dart between Rosa and me, her cheeks growing pink. ‘Well, we hadn’t confirmed, and Margot’s been my first choice right from the start.’

‘Why do you want a French chef anyway?’ I say, struggling to keep the irritation from my voice. ‘I thought you wanted Italian for your family, along with a Jamaican and British menu. We were going for a fusion-type thing. That’s what we talked about.’

Rosa shakes her head. ‘Oh, Eva.’ She turns to me. ‘I’m sorry, Casey. I had no idea you’d already discussed menus with other chefs.’

‘I’m sure Margot can do whatever we want,’ Eva says. ‘She’s one of the top chefs in Europe.’

A vein in my neck throbs. A top chef means nothing to my family or me. My mum’s idea of fancy food is buying a Victoria sponge from Waitrose instead of Asda. My phone vibrates on the bench and Jaz’s image flashes on the screen. ‘Just taking this. It’s Jaz.’

Eva walks back to the dining table, but Leila looks up. ‘Jaz? Tell her I said hi.’

My brows lift in surprise – this is new. ‘Sure.’

Rosa points to a door on the other side of the kitchen. ‘Go into the sitting room, if you like, Casey.’

‘Thanks.’ I grab my glass of red and move to the other room, closing the door behind me. I place my wine on the side table before sitting so I don’t splash on the cream sofa, like I’ve done before, then slide the call answer icon. ‘Hiya. I’m in wedding hell.’

Jaz grunts. ‘I’m in zone six hell. How the fuck did I end up in Epping last night?’

‘Epping?’ I laugh. ‘Hope she was worth it.’

‘Oh, she was,’ Jaz purrs. ‘But I won’t be trekking all the way out here for visits. My soul mate needs to live in zone one. It’s going to take me hours to get home.’

‘It’ll take you, like, an hour.’

Jaz groans with the effort of it all. ‘I’m stopping halfway at your ma and da’s for an afternoon fry-up and a strong brew. There’s no way I’ll make it back to Islington on an empty stomach.’

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