Page 88 of The Wedding Game

Ordinarily I’d have laughed, but I don’t. ‘Did you get drunk on it and kiss her?’

‘What? No. Of course not. But we got on, and she knew my deal. She knew I lived in New York and wasn’t in London very often and she was cool, laid-back. She didn’t have any grand expectations. So we just messaged a bit, arranged to meet up whenever I’ve been here for work. And it’s been nice. It’s not serious. And we’ve only really had a few dates. But I guess, now I’m moving back, we’ll be seeing if we can – you know – go for it.’

‘Oh, right,’ I reply, mostly as a way to fill the gap in the conversation that’s ripped a void between us.

‘Anyway, that’s my news.’

‘You’ve kept everything so quiet,’ I tell him. ‘All the times we’ve spoken and caught up … and … tumbleweed from you.’

‘Well, the job thing I couldn’t really go bleating about. I still can’t, actually.’ He glances around, checking no one’s listening. ‘I’ve got to formally hand in my notice this week, so please keep quiet, won’t you?’

‘Of course,’ I say.

‘And with Victoria – it’s just messaging and the odd phone call and, like I said, it’s really a by-product of me moving back.’

I roll my eyes. ‘You can’t keep calling her that. She seemed really nice, from the few minutes we spoke at the party.’

Chris smiles, looks self-conscious. ‘She is. She’s really easy to be with.’

‘When are you moving back?’ I ask.

‘Not sure yet. A month?’

We’re silent while I process this before realising I need totalk or risk looking abnormal. ‘Congratulations,’ I say. ‘I’m really pleased for you.’

‘Thanks. I appreciate that.’

His alarm beeps on his phone and I’m drawn back to a similar night talking to Chris for the first time, that same hateful alarm sounding from his phone.

‘Shit,’ he says. ‘I’ve got to go.’

I don’t know what to say at this point, so I don’t say anything. He leans forward, embraces me in a hug and I’m sure I stop breathing. I’m far too close to him. He smells faintly of mint and bergamot. And for some reason I feel a bit empty, as if he’s drifting further away from me than ever before, even though he’s moving back home to England. He’s going in a different direction, as if he’s picking up the pace and running with it.

But I’m also in my stride now. It’s taken me for ever to get here, but I’m in a job I’m enjoying, living in a home I adore with Josh, whom I love, and we have a life together. Chris wants that for himself too, so why do I feel so put out about the whole thing?

I say goodbye and so does he. And it feels that little bit too final, laced with something bordering on regret.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

May

Scarlet hands me a big mug of tea and we curl up on our old sofa in her new flat in Edinburgh. It’s a crisp morning, only fourteen degrees, despite the fact that it’s May. I’ve only brought one jumper with me, so it’s going to get well used this weekend. Today is Scarlet’s birthday and it’s the first time I’ve managed to get up to Scotland to see her.

I’ve seen her flat on a video tour she filmed for me, but nothing compares to being here in real life, in Scarlet’s space with her, finally. I love seeing how at ease she is here, how relaxed, how at home and settled she is. Also I notice now that our jointly purchased old Ikea furniture looks small and out of place in this giant-ceilinged Georgian space. I half-seriously recommend that she invests in some serious, oversized antique furniture the minute she can, so it looks a bit more normal in the flat. And artwork – I have ideas about artwork. After I’ve finished inspecting all the wonderful period features, we sit back and position ourselves on our old, battered was-once-white-but-isn’t-any-longer sofa.

‘Can I ask you a funny question?’ I enquire, as we placea plate of Danish pastries between us. ‘Ooh, can I have the cinnamon roll or do you want to split it?’

‘It’s yours. Was that your question?’ Scarlet asks as she gulps her tea. I change my mind and reach for a croissant, knowing that in a few minutes she’ll regret letting me have that cinnamon roll. It is her birthday after all.

‘No. My question is this …’ I realise I’m not sure how to phrase it, how to tackle the question about her old boss hooking up with Chris, without alerting Scarlet to the fact that I’m fully invested in Chris from afar, even though I can’t have him and don’t want him, because I’m with Josh and I’m perfectly happy. Scarlet will only tell me off and say something like, ‘Just because you can’t have him doesn’t mean no one else is allowed to.’ I can already hear the words. If she knows something, she’ll volunteer if I lead her there, and then I won’t have to look desperate for information about Chris.

I adopt an innocent expression and go for it. ‘How’s your friend Victoria?’

She pauses while reaching for a Danish. ‘Wasthatyour question?’

I nod, playing it cool.

‘I don’t know,’ she replies, confused. ‘I only really speak to her about freelance work.’

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