Page 85 of The Reunion

I feel extra guilty for causing any kind of confrontation.

I have so much to say: apologies I need to make, explanations to help him understand what was going on in my mind – not to excuse my actions, but so that he knows none of this was his fault; reassurances that while I was tempted by a kiss, this wasn’t some torrid affair carried out behind his back for years. It’s impossible to know where to start, especially when, ‘But I didn’t actually kiss him,’ is no defence at all and, ‘I’m sorry,’ is so paltry.

As I hastily order my thoughts and start to say something, Curtis surprises me by speaking first.

‘Just tell me this – do you still love him?’

‘I think part of me will always love him,’ I admit easily. ‘But I’m not in love with him. It’s more like a memory I know I’ll cherish, instead of one I’m wishing I could relive.’

He nods, slowly, surely, but the gravity in his expression doesn’t concern me. If he were to rant and rave or cry and question why, I would scream and grovel and beg his forgiveness, but we are neither of us those people. This discussion is had with all the same steady affection as we do anything else; a time and consideration that we believe the other deserves, no matter the outcome.

I love this man. So much.

It wouldn’t be enough, if he were to decide this isn’t something he could ever forgive. But it would still mean something, to both of us.

And after a very long moment and the passing of several cars and more calls of goodbyes from old classmates to one another around us, Curtis asks me, ‘Do you still want to marry me?’

‘Yes,’ I say, and I can’t believe it would even be a question – can’t believe I have given him cause to think otherwise. ‘Yes, I do. I absolutely, really, truly do.’

Curtis nods, and his other arm comes up to hug me close, and I burrow into him, sure my relief is palpable. It doesn’t feel like a goodbye sort of embrace or a final clinging to one another before parting for good; this is more of a mooring, anchoring ourselves to one another, a confirmation. I breathe in the smell of him, now a little musty and sweaty compared to when we left the house, and he presses his lips to my temple, his head bowed over mine and neither of us moving for the longest time.

And, when he does, it’s to straighten up and take me gently by the elbows.

‘Then that’s all that matters, Steph. All that matters to me, anyway.’

My breath shudders out of me and I’m so elated that my answering smile is wobbly; I might cry happy tears, at how big a heart he has – how sure he is of me.

Curtis smiles back and then gestures with a nod off somewhere behind me. Somehow, I know exactly who must be over there.

‘Maybe you should go and say goodbye.’

It’s not a test, or anything like that. It’s a kindness, a closure for both of us, and I nod before I step out of Curtis’s arms to make my way across the tarmac. When I look back, he’s smiling, hands in his pockets, perfectly patient, and I’m so overcome with seeing that smile and his face and this man for the rest of my life that I could skip.

The rest of my life, admittedly, suddenly feels like a very long time, when I consider just how much has changed in the past ten years. But even if we aren’t forever, or meant to end up together …

We’re together now, and it’s all I could want and more.

Chapter Forty-Three

Shaun

‘Most Likely to End Up Together’

With Hassan and Josh both gone, I have no more immediate buffer between me and Aisha, and no idle chatter to distract me from the shock and sting of Steph’s earlier rejection. Her presence is like a physical wedge between me and Aisha, and with the boys gone, I find my gaze drifting around the people leaving the party. Some are saying final goodbyes before making their way to the car park, or standing around while an old friend tries to book an Uber and fails because they’re all booked up by someone else here at the reunion already and saying, ‘No, really, it’s no trouble! Come on, I’ll give you a lift back!’

I have to look at anything except Aisha, when any look will be the last.

I’m not looking for her, until I am.

Steph is out of earshot, doling out final hugs to her friends, and I’d be willing to bet they’ll all be posting selfies together from a night out or brunch or something soon. I’m surprised they never all stayed friends like me, Josh and Hassan did. I’m a little bit jealous that she’s chosen to bring them back into her new life, but not me.

She’s smiling, looking so bright and brilliant, in spite of the dirt streaked on the torn skirt of her dress and graze on her elbow from falling over. She looks like she couldn’t bear to be anywhere else, and when her fiancé wraps his arm around her, she settles there like she belongs, and I’m reminded of how definitively she made her choice.

‘Something happened between you, didn’t it?’

My entire body jolts at the accusation, and my silence is too long to be anything but guilty before I force myself to face Aisha.

She’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling shallowly, and her expression is taut. She looks like she’s bracing herself to be smacked with a frying pan in a slapstick comedy bit.

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