Page 104 of The Wedding Game

I put my head in my hands and close my eyes. I know what’s going to happen. I can feel it deep in my bones.

Scarlet’s quiet as she drives, pulling up on the grass verge outside the church in front of aNo Parkingsign. A sense of dread has settled itself in the pit of my stomach. I feel a wave of nausea.

All the guests are inside, and the wedding car with the bride and her father is pulling up behind us.

‘We have to be quick,’ Scarlet says, and I follow her across the grassy churchyard, past some thirsty-looking hydrangeas.

The door is open and we slide into the back of the church silently, and it’s only now that I realise I didn’t have to do this to myself – I could just have sat in the car, knowing Chris and Victoria were getting married. I look over the heads of people as we work our way towards a pew. I can’t see him.

Suddenly it hits me. I’m in love with Chris. I think I was always in love with him. Since that first meeting. We let it slip away – that instant connection. And now … it’s too late.

As we squeeze ourselves onto the end of the row, I see him at the front of the church and all my worst fears are confirmed. It is him. Chris. My stomach knots. There’s so much pain. Oh my God, my heart. I let him go before and now I’m about to lose him for ever. He’s smiling, talking to one of his groomsmen. He looks like this is the happiest day of his life. And I’m the most miserable I’ve been in a long time.

I thought Josh had broken my heart, but this is on another level. With Josh I was angry, hurt, embarrassed. With Chris I’m devastated. Why? And why didn’t I do anything about it sooner? Now it’s too late.

Scarlet sees my pain and reaches down to hold my hand. Her jaw is tense and she looks at me. She knows. I can feeltears forming in the back of my eyes and I give her a sad smile, resigning myself to what’s about to play out. I don’t think I can do this. I think I might be physically sick when he saysI do.I might be physically sick now.

And then Chris is halfway through saying something to his best man and turns, his gaze connecting directly with mine, and the smile falls from his face, to be replaced with confusion and then … a look I can’t place. His mouth closes and he stares at me.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as his mouth opens again and makes the shape of my name.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Chris

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Lexie is here. How is she here? Ipurposefullydidn’t invite her. And then I work it out: Scarlet.

Victoria invited Scarlet.

Scarlet brought Lexie.

But why would Lexie come?

I should have seen this coming but, with hindsight, I realise I paid zero attention to the guest list.

‘Lexie,’ I say out loud and my dad steps forward.

‘You OK?’ he asks, putting his hand on my shoulder. ‘Everything all right?’ He looks at me as if he’s worried I’m about to have a breakdown.

‘I’m OK,’ I say. ‘I just … someone’s here and I didn’t expect them to be and it’s thrown me a bit.’ So Icanstill string a sentence together then. ‘I have to go and talk to—’

But I can’t do anything. The ‘Wedding March’ has started and the door that was being held ajar opens. The vicar is primed and ready at the front of the church, and Victoria enters. She looks incredible.

As Victoria gets about halfway down the aisle, I find mygaze is drawn back to Lexie, just for a second. Or it would have been – only she’s gone. Why did she come? And why is she leaving so quickly?

I only needed a few more minutes before Victoria walked down the aisle, but now … it’s too late.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Lexie

Scarlet’s given me the car keys. I’m in so much emotional pain, even though I don’t have any right to feel like this. But I can’t sit and watch him marry her. I can’t. I’ll go to the Premier Inn we’ve booked and I’ll nurse a pot of tea and a huge slice of cake, or even a whole damn cake, for hours in my room and cry until Scarlet wants picking up from—

‘Lexie!’ I hear my name being called and Chris is running across the churchyard towards me.

I breathe in sharply. His black suit jacket is undone, his hair is shorter than when I last saw him and he’s smiling at me. This is everything I wanted.

But all I can say in return, in disbelief, is, ‘Get back inside that church. What thehellare you doing? What are youdoing?’

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