Page 40 of The Wedding Game

Did I just get friend-zoned?

I’m standing at my bathroom sink, ready to brush my teeth, but haven’t done it yet because I messaged Lexie and that took over. She’s gone now, but I’m still lingering here, staring at her words, analysing our exchange.

I reread our messages. I’m midway through telling her all about my day and … I did – I just got friend-zoned. And rather abruptly too. So abruptly it almost makes me laugh.

I shake my head in bafflement and scroll up our chat. And then I scroll down and … Where was the sign this was coming? There was no sign. Or was there? She went silent on me for a few days. Was that it?

I read through the bit where I tell her I can’t stop thinking about her. This is a little embarrassing now. And why I did this is beyond me, because I’m on a mission to be single. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Lexie. I’m drawn to her. We had an evening of perfect conversation and I asked her to get on a plane with me. She said no. And now I’ve beenfriend-zoned. She put a kiss and then I watched it disappear as she deleted it.

That was painful to watch.

But we got on so well. It was so real. That night on the terrace, it felt so real. She almost got on a plane with me. And everything after that … perfection. Until now. I pull a deep breath into my lungs, let it out slowly.

I stare at the phone in anticipation, just in case. But there’s nothing more. She’s gone offline. That’s it.

I look away from the phone and stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. Under my breath I mutter the word ‘Fuck!’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lexie

It feels so normal being back at Josh’s for the weekend. Almost as if I never left, almost as normal as if I was at home with Scarlet. Although with Scarlet this past week she was at work all day and I was on the sofa, giving my CV the kicking-into-shape it really needed for the design job that Chris sent me.

I had a call lined up this coming Monday for a temporary job with an agency and, just as I boarded the train to head to Josh’s for the weekend, the agent cancelled. I cannot explain how down this is all making me feel. As if sensing that I need perking up, after we’ve had dinner and then after we’ve had sex, Josh asks if I’d like to hang out with him a bit longer again, instead of racing back on the train on Sunday.

‘If you get even a hint of a job I’ll have you back on that train as fast as you want,’ he says.

‘Really?’ I ask, turning into his warm body.

‘I can drive very fast,’ Josh says, stroking my hair.

‘No, I mean … you want me to stay a bit longer?’

His gaze connects with mine. ‘Why not. I’ve got to work,but if you don’t mind the solitude during the day, we can have dinner together each evening. Take each day as it comes and see what it brings. If you get bored, or a job offer, or miss your own bed … hop back on the train.’

Take each day as it comes and see what it brings. It had better bring a job offer. Although being here with Josh is wonderful. Icouldstay a bit longer. A few days perhaps. We won’t be overdoing things with each other, because he’ll be gone all day. It would be like having a dinner date every evening. This could be fun. And I can indulge my Lady of the Manor fantasies, wafting around his supersized country house in floaty dresses, playing with the Aga and walking into the village. It’ll be like a little holiday. I could really do with a little holiday.

On Monday Josh pops in from the farm from time to time to see me, thoughtfully checking on me, and while he’s out on the farm I work on my portfolio. I’ve redesigned it a thousand times, I’ve edited images, I’ve written down my thought processes and inspirations and now I don’t know what else to do. I need to go on a course. I thought this might take me all week. It’s taken me less than a day.

Josh tells me to pull my wellies on. We go down to the farm and I get to pet the cows and their young. I’m so in love with these mini cows.

‘How’s your portfolio going?’ Josh asks as I stroke a six-month-old calf, which seems to be loving the attention.

I’m so in awe, I blink a few times before answering him, telling him what I’ve done.

He sounds impressed. ‘Show me after dinner?’

I nod. ‘Shall I cook for us tonight?’

‘I thought you couldn’t cook?’ he says.

‘Hey,’ I cry, and the calf bolts at my sound level. ‘Sorry,’ I tell Josh.

He’s kneeling on the floor. ‘She’ll be back in a moment, don’t worry.’

‘I can cook when I have to,’ I tell him in a quieter voice. ‘I’ll rustle something up for you while you have a bath, or whatever you want to do when you get in from work.’

‘Shower, dinner, pyjamas, usually.’

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