Page 78 of The Wedding Game

‘Which you spread out across the days you’re back in London, Monday to Friday. Why not condense them into one day and commute from here for that one day? Plenty of people do it.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘I’ve seen them getting off the train with me on a Friday night.’

‘In fairness, some of them might be second-homers,’ Josh replies, undoing his own argument.

I’d worked that out for myself, but don’t like to say so.

‘But not all of them,’ he’s quick to point out. ‘Being with me, here …’ He shrugs, lets his sentence hang in mid-air. ‘I mean,’ he continues, ‘I’d love that. And it’d mean you’re not paying rent with Scarlet for a flat you’re only living in half the week.’

‘I live there formostof the week,’ I say. ‘And I’m not going to move in with you just so I can pay less rent. I’d be movingin with you because Iwantto move in with you.’ Josh looks pleased at that until I say, ‘Hang on, how much rent do you want?’

He’s taken aback. ‘I don’t want any rent.’

‘Why not?’ I ask.

‘The house doesn’t have a mortgage.’

‘That’s the dream, right there,’ I say, glancing around at my surroundings. Faces in portraits a hundred years old glance back at me, and I silently thank them for doing whatever it was they did that got this giant hulk of a house mortgage-free in time for my arrival.

‘My grandparents paid it off years ago,’ Josh tells me. ‘Mum and Dad got the benefit of that when they raised us here. And now it’s my turn to make a life here with someone.’

‘Someone?’

‘With you.’

‘Oh my gosh, Josh,’ I say in awe and then try not to laugh as I realise that rhymes. He notices it too and emits a brief chuckle.

‘I love you,’ he continues. ‘And this is the next step. We know it works when you live here, because you practically moved in with me five minutes after we met.’

I thump him playfully, ‘It wasn’t five minutes, and it was only for a few weeks.’ I think of all the things we do together – there’s quite a bit of sex, and he’s taking the time to teach me how to drive. He’s been gradually letting me into his world and now he wants me to live in it fully. It’s going to be such a change from my own world. I make jokes about becoming acountry bumpkin, though I’m not sure I am one at heart. I’m going to have to learn how, if I move to Somerset full-time.

I reason it’s not the other side of the world. And then my mind flicks to the alternate life I could have had on the other side of the world in New York with Chris. I force him from my thoughts and bring myself back to the here and now. Somerset is a train journey away from friends and family – that’s it. And moving in would be the perfect next step. But it still feels like such ahugestep for me. I’d be leaving Scarlet, for one thing. I wonder if I need time to think about it. I can hardly say that, though.

‘I’ll need to talk to Scarlet about it,’ I respond, buying myself a little time, and Josh adopts a look of confusion.

‘Why?’ he asks. ‘You want her permission?’

‘No,’ I say, slightly taken aback. ‘We share a flat. I can’t leave her with all the bills. We’d need to discuss how me moving out would work – if she would want to sublet my room or if we’d end the tenancy together. Either way, it’ll take time, so I can’t just move out. Not that quickly.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Josh says more gently, now he understands.

‘It might take a while to sort,’ I say.

I watch hope rise on his face as it dawns on him. ‘Does that mean … Are you saying yes?’ he asks. He looks so concerned that I might say no. This handsome kind man, who I do love – I do – has asked me to move in with him.

‘Yes,’ I say, realising this at the same time as he does. ‘Yes, I am.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

November

‘This is still one of the most boring bits, in my opinion,’ I tell Chris after he arrives in London to oversee the next stage of the interior hotel fit-out. I’m glad this bit is his job, because it’s a total snooze-fest. He’s tried – and failed – to jazz it up to me over the phone whenever we speak.

I’m watching him do his thing: measuring, issuing instructions and checking over all the materials that have arrived onsite, despite the fact that I’ve checked them over already, as has the site manager.

‘It’s like watching someone give a really boring Ted Talk on how to assemble flatpack furniture, only on a bigger scale,’ I tease. Chris has got his serious face on, and I’m trying to get him to crack a smile.

He’s pretending not to laugh as he walks away to talk to a supplier, holding the coffee I’ve gone to get him from the artisan place round the corner. His jet lag is setting in and he’s yawning.

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