Page 52 of The Wedding Game

He puts a laughing emoji and then,Brooklyn.

OK. Cool. Meet you in the hotel lobby at 8.45?

He sends a thumbs-up and then he’s offline and, I presume, either getting ready to leave his apartment and hail a cab or to get on the subway. I decide I’m going to have to snaffle all the complementary pretzel packets while I wait.

Dinner with Chris feels easy, friendly and natural – he takes me to his favourite pizza joint, where we order one huge slice each. He chooses pepperoni, and mine has aubergine and pesto, artichoke and prosciutto. I’ve never ordered pizza by the slice before. The restaurant is loud and casual.

While we eat at our high tables and faded bar stools, Chris sips a beer. I’m so jet-lagged I can’t face alcohol, so I’ve ordered a giant Diet Coke. Everything is giant. ‘These are ridiculous,’ I say, gesturing to the cups. ‘They’re bigger than a venti in Starbucks.’

He chuckles as we eat. It’s cold outside and warm in here, and condensation gathers on the huge windows. Fairy lights and displays of huge candy-canes and oversized baubles adorn shop windows and the lights have been left on after hours. Around doors life-sizedNutcrackersoldiers in red and white greet shoppers. It’s wonderfully photogenic and the whole city is already so festive, even though it’s not yet December.

‘I’m sure yesterday it was pumpkins and Halloween stuff everywhere,’ Chris says to my observation. ‘Overnight it all turned into Christmas decorations, without me even noticing.’

‘It’s so pretty,’ I say. ‘I can see why you like it here. The changing of the seasons. Must be magical.’

He grins, then takes a huge bite of pizza.

‘Thanks for taking me somewhere touristy,’ I tell him genuinely, trying not to let pizza grease slip down my chin.

‘This isn’t touristy,’ Chris says, stunned. ‘This is my newfavourite pizza place. It’s old, you know – not hipstery in the slightest.’

‘Um … it is quite hipstery. But it feels like how a New York pizza place should be.’

He’ll take that comment clearly, as he narrows his eyes and glances around. ‘Don’t ruin it for me,’ Chris jokes. Then he focuses on eating dinner. ‘That is good,’ he sighs after a couple of bites. ‘I was starving.’

‘I did wonder if you’d already had dinner and were just here out of politeness?’ I ask.

‘I purposefullydidn’teat dinner, out of politeness.’

‘In case I rang?’

‘Something like that,’ he says softly.

‘Thanks,’ I reply quickly, ‘for taking me out tonight. For suggesting the job to me. For all of it.’

‘It wasn’t wholly selfless,’ he admits.

‘No?’ I question warily, worried about what he might say. I dig into my slice.

‘Because you got the job, I get fifteen hundred dollars.’

I stop eating. ‘Sorry? What do you get fifteen hundred dollars for?’

‘For recommending you to the role; if it all works out, I get a referral bonus. It saves them so much in recruitment-agent fees, so they’re always on the hunt for recommendations when it comes to filling roles that open up.’

Somewhere in the street outside a yellow taxi honks its horn and my gaze drifts out of the condensation-heavy window to look, but in reality I’m processing what Chris has just said.

I feel offended, though I don’t know why. ‘And there was me, thinking you’d remembered me,’ I say before slurping some of my Coke. I wish I hadn’t said that. I hope it’s not taken out of context.

‘I did remember you,’ he replies and then he looks back at his pizza. ‘That’s why I recommended you.’ He munches the final bites and then, when he’s finished, scrunches his paper napkin up and puts it on the plate. ‘It’s all part of my grand plan to get you to New York.’

I give him an uncertain look. ‘Really?’

‘Not really. I’m not that God-like.’ He’s frowning at his greasy pizza plate and looks as if he’s thinking hard about what to say next, running it through his mind first. ‘I don’t want you to think I go around inviting every woman I meet to get on a flight with me, there and then. It wasn’t a casual everyday move.’

I look at Chris and my breathing slows. Is the elephant in the room – everything that was said between us that night, and some things since – about to stomp forward and demand to be noticed?

‘I still can’t believe you did it,’ I say gently. ‘It was bold.’

---