Page 31 of The Wedding Game

‘No, we’re way past the seventeen-minute sweet spot,’ I say.

‘Pardon?’

‘Nothing,’ I reply. ‘Ignore me.’ I wish I hadn’t said that. It was neither appropriate nor funny. Josh doesn’t deserve me thinking of Chris. I instruct myself to stop immediately.

He continues. ‘I was wondering … if you wanted to come and visit me for our next date?’

‘Oh,’ I say and then, longer, ‘Ohhh.’

‘I can’t tell if you like this idea or hate it?’ Josh says uncertainly.

‘In the London borough of Somerset?’ I ask.

‘Ha! Exactly.’

‘When? How?’

‘Next weekend and by train.’

‘Ohhh,’ I draw out again, not thinking this through at all. ‘Yeah, OK.’ I smile as the implications of this swirl around my mind. ‘You’re inviting me to stay at your house?’

He nods. ‘Is that OK?’

My smile widens and it’s my turn to nod. ‘You’re inviting me to stay at your house,’ I repeat. ‘In Somerset?’ This feels huge. Although if he lived in London, it wouldn’t have felt huge at all. If he’d lived in London, we’d have spent last night at his place probably. Then I remind myself that no, we wouldn’t have done that, because I wouldn’t have seen Joshtwo days on the bounce and I wouldn’t have spent the night. It’sbecausehe lives so far away that we’re seeing each other for two days straight.

Aware that I’ve disappeared inside my mind, I refocus. We look up train times for the coming Friday and we make plans for the weekend. On the way back to the station, Josh pops into the hotel and returns the linen napkins.

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘Oh God, he’s perfect,’ Scarlet says after I give her the breakdown of my weekend. ‘So what’s wrong with him? Why is he single? You’re going to arrive at his house in – wherever it is – and find a collection of axes or knives in a dungeon, or discover he’s really intoWarhammeror that he’s a cyberhacker or … something.’

‘I bloody hope not,’ I reply as we sit on our sofa, feet up on the coffee table, each drinking a glass of cheap red wine. ‘Although he’s just so lovely and so-o-o good in bed that I could probably live with a combination of all of that, to be honest.’

‘Does he have a brother?’ Scarlet asks hopefully.

‘Sadly, not.’

‘Best friend who is single and also owns his own farm?’

‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘He does have a best friend, but I don’t know if he’s in theeligible bachelorcategory or not. I’ll do some digging.’

‘You mightmeetthe best friend. Then you can do some proper reconnaissance for me.’

‘I feel it might be a bit too soon formeet the friends, although we are going at quite a speed, so you never know. In only a few weeks we’ve kissed on the night Imethim,been on two dates – or three, if you count the two-in-a-row situation—’

‘Had two orgasms,’ Scarlet chimes in helpfully, which makes me laugh.

‘Yeah … that. And now I’m going to stay at his house in the country for the weekend.’

‘Here’s to a roll in the hay,’ she says as we clink glasses and cheers each other.

As the week rolls on, my flirtatious chat unconsciously dies away with Chris. I acknowledge any message he sends, because I’m not rude, but they’re short replies, unquestioning, a thumbs-up emoji here and there instead of a full-blown conversation. I no longer start our messages back up. I’m not the kind of person who usually treats people like this and … it’s Chris. It’sChris.So it hurts to be so flippant, but I need to instigate the general demise of our – whatever it is we’re doing – because of Josh. I’ve slept with him. Twice. And we’re making plans to keep seeing each other. Focusing on Josh is the right thing to do. And, slowly, IthinkChris has got the hint, as his constant stream of messages has petered out.

By Friday afternoon I am ready to escape London. I am also unemployed again, as the multiple agencies I’m registered with have either failed to respond to my messages orhavedeigned to reply to me, but in the negative. Why is the job market so hard at the moment? I’ve been lowering my prospects towards doinganykind of office job. Anything at all. I have a degree, for God’s sake, and a lot of admin roles behind me, but I can’t even get a temp job now. I’m trying toconvince myself it’s merely a blip. It’s just as well I’m escaping London for the weekend. It’ll take my mind off it.

I say goodbye to the woman I’ve been working with on reception every day for the past two weeks. We exchange general chat, wishing each other good weekends and enthusing about what the other has going on. We’ll never see each other again, unless I get a job back there, which is unlikely.

I pick up my mid-sized roller suitcase and make a beeline for the door. I’ve loaded the case with clothes. I have no idea what to expect. Josh and I have messaged every day this week, and my worries – about the pace of whatever is happening between us – have abated in favour of excitement about going to his farmhouse. In fact I can’t wait to get out of this building and onto a train for a couple of hours. Knowing Josh is going to be at the other end of the journey makes me smile and pick up pace, as I roll my luggage towards the station.

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