Page 111 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

‘That’s the only reason?’

I’m such a coward. Even if the adult thing to do is name what happened and move on from it, I can’t. I’m already too hot. Too bothered. ‘While I was talking to your niece and nephew, I came up with an idea for a wedding gift. I guess it’s sort of a piece of art?’

‘Yeah? So where do I buy it?’

‘You don’t. I made it – that’s what I went home to do.’

In reality I’d spent a few hours lying wide awake in bed going over and over what had happened between us before, for my own self-preservation, I’d got out of bed, grabbed a new blank canvas and my bowl of feathers and started making a collage.

It had made a change from getting up and cleaning to quieten all those What Ifs so too bad I’d chickened out of giving it to him or he’d have the evidence already back at his apartment.

‘You make art?’

‘Oh. No. Not really. Or, maybe? I just started. It’s – I really like doing it. It’s soothing. Oz saw one of them and said it was good. Not that he’s an art connoisseur or anything. But he told me I should think about selling in Oscars, like creating a gallery wall or something, so…’ I blink a couple of times, surprised at having pushed myself forward when I’d never managed to do that at the magazine.

‘And you were inspired to create something for my brother’s wedding?’

‘You were all so excited and I can tell you’re trying to make it as special for them as you can.’

‘It’s that obvious?’ George asks, looking uncomfortable.

‘I didn’t know you were his best man so it makes sense. But I think even if you weren’t it’s just who you are – that you’d go out of your way to make it extra special for him because he’s your brother – which is super cute by the way.’

‘There were a lot of things Marcus missed out on when we were younger.’

‘Because you were ill?’

He nods. ‘He never complained, and I want him to have everything he wants, you know?’

I definitely know about wanting desperately to make up for something but I don’t need to make this about me, so I aim for light and say, ‘Like I said, super-cute.’ He winces again and I smile and add, ‘It got me thinking about family and so I thought why not create a personalised Wedding Family Tree? With all of you in your little nests. Maybe even include the pub, since the wedding is going to be held there?’

‘It sounds perfect. I’ll take one.’

As simple as that. Sight unseen. ‘There are probably other nests I could add to the tree, if you want to give me a list. Important people. Places. Then, if you really like it, I’ll think about a price,’ I say, feeling brave.

He makes me feel brave.

‘The Bedraggled Badger should definitely be on it,’ George says. ‘It’s where he and Jules met and you already know they’re having their wedding reception there. Plus, he sort of owns it. Part of it anyway. Everyone in the village clubbed together and bought it and they look after it and run it on a rota basis alongside their jobs. They bought it so that they could make sure they didn’t lose their pub, it’s sort of like a community thing.’

It makes me think of the community I’m slowly building here. How slowly but surely, I’ve been forced out of my comfort zone of grief to search for something that will hold me here. Something that turns this big anonymous city with its high-rises that stand tall together yet don’t quite touch, into a home where I can stay. Where I can thrive.

‘Why did you come here tonight?’ I ask George.

‘Mrs. Lundy asked me to,’

‘You have a soft spot for her.’

‘I do,’ he agrees. ‘And I didn’t have anything else to do. All my friends in the city were Anya’s friends and so now…’ He tails off and adds a lopsided grin and a shrug.

He was missing community. Sure Mrs. Lundy pops in to see him but I’ve been distant recently.

I feel bad and step closer. I put my hand over his and then laugh over the wetness and immediately lift it again to pick up a towel to dry them.

George clears his throat. ‘So, you read to kids in hospital?’

‘Do you know how bored they are? How long the days are for them? How scared they must be?’

He looks at me for so long that I wonder if he’s going to answer at all but then he says, ‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with helping them, Ashleigh. Nothing at all. It’s a good thing you’re doing.’ He reaches out and re-tangles his hands with mine. ‘I wish I’d had something like that when I was younger. I know someone like you reading to me would have helped me a lot.’

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