Page 86 of The Wedding Game

‘I’ve never heard of half these people,’ Chris says as he stands behind me.

‘Is it because you don’t watchThe Real Housewives of CheshireorThe Only Way Is Essexor anything like that?’

‘Do I look like aTOWIEfan?’ he asks coolly as he sips his drink.

I swing round, stare right at him. ‘You know its abbreviated name, though,’ I accuse. I’m so close to him. I didn’t realise how close we were to each other.

‘OK,’ Chris says as I step back a bit, ‘I might have watched one or two episodes. You?’

‘It’s my guilty pleasure,’ I confess. ‘When Josh isn’t watching the news or curled up in bed for an early night, I’ll be all over shows likeThe KardashiansandSelling Sunset. There aren’t enough hours in the day to keep up with all the reality programmes, though.’

‘Reality?’ he remarks. ‘You do know it’s notreal,right?’

‘Shut up,’ I hiss playfully, turning back to people-watch. ‘It is definitely real. Don’t start on at me about scripted reality. I won’t hear it.’

Chris laughs behind me while we watch the red-carpet photographers do their thing. His proximity feels heady and intoxicating. He says, ‘Cheers!’, so I turn back to him. He clinks his glass against mine and then stands back. I can feel a spark of energy between us as he says, ‘Well done, Lexie.’

Eventually I find my voice. ‘Likewise. And I don’t think I deserve any real credit. Max is the design superstar.’

‘He couldn’t have done it without you on the ground, running all over the place. He said as much.’

‘Did he?’

Chris nods, and I glow with the energy of a job well done.

We automatically start moving further into the room and I swipe us two more glasses of champagne. And then Chris and I lose each other for a while, but every now and again I spy him across the room. I move around, greeting everyoneI know and making introductions to some I don’t. The sibling bosses are in, and we talk for a moment or two before they move off to continue basking in their well-earned glory. I don’t think I could be any more high on life if I tried. This moment is everything I’ve worked for, and although I know I’m only a bit-part, I genuinely never thought I’d ever get this far.

I do hope this is the stepping stone to something more within this company. I love working with Max and with Chris, and I’ve got over how odd it is that we keep being reunited, on and off. It’s friendly now – good vibes and nothing more. Maybe something tiny more, but we’re going in different directions. I wonder if Chris is keeping a lid on anything further. I wonder if I am?

There’s no danger of either of us doing anything we shouldn’t, though. We’re good people and everything’s worked out in the end, but if you’d asked me – only minutes after Chris reluctantly got in that taxi and left me standing on the gravel drive that first time we met – if I’d see it all panning out like this, I’d have been horrified.

Funny how things never go quite as you expect. But that’s OK. That’s life. Things were meant to work out this way, clearly.

Chris finds his way back to me and we talk about work, New York, the Cotswolds, how well Scarlet is settling in up in Edinburgh, his family, Christmas and slowly, bit by bit, the night wears itself away until I declare, ‘It’s nearly pumpkin hour.’

‘What?’ he asks.

‘You know the time when Cinderella has to get to the coach, before it turns into a … Never mind. It’s late – and I should probably go, is where I was going with that.’

‘Fair enough. I might sneak out as well. I’ve got an early start and a flight home to catch.’

‘You’re running out on me for a flight … again?’

He gives me an interested glance. I wish I hadn’t said that.

‘I didn’t know you were going back so soon,’ I say.

‘Disappointed?’ Chris questions, with a glint in his eye.

It’s my turn to give him an enquiring glance.

‘Yeah,’ I reply, but it’s kindly meant – nothing more. ‘Of course.’

‘I’ve got a big week coming up,’ he continues, obviously deciding he’s not going to take that line of questioning any further.

‘Go on,’ I prompt.

He glances around, checking that no one can overhear us. ‘I’m leaving,’ he whispers.

---