Page 69 of The Wedding Game

‘There’s no point in saying anything else, is there? You don’t want to be friends.’

He shrugs. ‘It’s notdon’t want to be. It’s that weshouldn’t.’

‘Are you that irresistible?’ I attempt to defuse the tension with humour.

‘I think it would be a mistake,’ he responds seriously.

This is so pointless. I’m going to go. ‘Fine,’ I answer listlessly. I can’t believe this is happening. Why did he have to say any of this? I hadn’t seen Chris since New York and we’rehardly likely to see each other as the years progress, even when we work for the same company.

‘Are you OK? You’re making the face again,’ he says.

‘I’m not OK actually,’ I reply. ‘I’m angry at you.’

‘Why? I’m doing a good thing. You’re with Josh and you’re happy. Why are you even going to consider messing that up?’

‘I wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be like that. And, Chris, we work together.’ Then I remember. ‘Yourecommended me for the job.Youput me in your path. Why? And don’t pretend it was only for the financial bonus.’

‘Because I’m an idiot,’ he says softly.

‘You’re not. You’re wonderful and smart and funny, and you make me laugh and you’re so easy to get on with and …’

‘If you’re trying to talk yourself out of being anywhere near me, you’re not doing a very good job.’

‘I’m not the one who’s being weird,’ I say. ‘I’m not the one who doesn’t want to be nearyou. Why would I not want to be near you. You’re lovely.’

‘So are you.’

‘So why are you doing this?’ I cry.

‘I’m not doing anything,’ he replies. ‘I’m trying so hardnotto do anything.’

‘I feel like I’ve just been broken up with, by someone who’s not a friend and who I’m not even dating. This is so weird.’

‘I know. Come here,’ he says and I allow myself to be scooped into an embrace. Chris holds me tightly and it’s bittersweet all over again. His cologne is different from when Ilast saw him, warm and woody to match the season. I feel his heartbeat against mine, his chest against mine, and it’s more than I can cope with. His lips touch my hair and he lays the gentlest of kisses on my head.

I pull back, look up at him and I know it’s a mistake. He looks down at me. He’s so close to me, and he doesn’t move and neither do I.

‘Don’t kiss me,’ he whispers.

‘Or you won’t win the bingo?’ I whisper back. ‘I’m not going to kiss you.’ But I feel so lost; so lost when it comes to Chris. It’s too late to go back and undo everything – undo how I feel about him.

I feel his breath as he leans towards me: whisky, heat and fire. But he doesn’t kiss me and I don’t kiss him. Instead he lingers for a moment and then pulls back.

‘I’m going to go now,’ he says in a strained voice. And I can do nothing else but watch him leave the room.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

‘You’re going to get serious wrinkles if you keep frowning like that,’ Scarlet says as I attempt to relax by the pool on our spa day. I am wound up so tightly that the masseuse is going to have to be a miracle-worker to unknot me. We’ve checked out of the wedding venue and in Scarlet’s little hire car we’ve bombed it, late, as usual, to check into the next hotel. By the pool it’s calm and quiet, and the sound of people swimming slow, effortless laps converges with plinky-plunky spa music.

‘I didn’t realise I was frowning,’ I say, using my fingers to iron out the creases settling between my brows. But it’s no good and I feel my face crumpling up again.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks. ‘You’ve been frowning all morning.’

I didn’t tell her about seeing Chris when I found Scarlet last night, as she wasn’t sober enough to understand. And what would I say? How do I tell her I feel as if I’ve been dumped by a guy who categorically wasn’t my boyfriend to begin with. And now we can’t even be friends.

Maybe Chris is right about us. Maybe, if we were friends, I’d find myself in a pickle, emotions-wise. Although I’m already in a pickle.

Scarlet leans over on her lounger and uses her fingers to try to iron out my creases. I chuckle at the act.

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