Page 96 of The Wedding Game

I didn’t tell Josh I was living in Edinburgh, but having him send my belongings to this address must have confused him. I want to confuse him. I want him to wonder why he’s sending all my things to a city so far away from anywhere I’m connected with. I assume he thinks I’m staying with Scarlet. And if he does, I’m not going to correct him. It’s not worth my time. A little bit of mystery is never a bad thing.

That afternoon I feel spurred on to join a women’s social club so that I can continue to make friends in a new city, which is something Scarlet hasn’t even done yet. I’m going to force her to come with me, so I don’t have to go alone. I’m a brave, independent woman, but I’m notthatbrave and independent. The social club organises dinners and now that I can afford to do a bit more socially, I intend to go to some of them.

I peruse the list of social events and spy a day’s wellness retreat coming up. I’m not sure what Pilates is or how it differs from yoga, but I do know it’s £50 for an hour’s class, plus a lovely-looking brunch and a glass of fizz, so I click the booking link. I’m going to go. I’m going to keep making new friends in the city I now live in, and I’m going to enjoy it.

I glance at the boxes one more time and decide I’m notready to open them yet. I’ve lived without my piles of unread books and 7,000 different shades of Kylie Jenner’s Matte Lip Kits for the past few months, so I’m sure I can do without them all a little longer.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Chris

October

I get home from work and find a very thick envelope waiting for me in my flat’s post box in the communal hall. It’s nestled among the takeaway leaflets and notices from estate agents about how they want to buy my property. I’m renting, so I can’t sell it even if I wanted to. I’ll be a perpetual renter at this rate, but I’m enjoying it. I feel different these days. Chris in New York wasn’t the Chris I wanted to be. I’m not going to say I found myself. But I feel … better, renewed. I don’t have this need to do stuff all the time, see things all the time, find new places to go. I don’t need totryto be by myself any more. I feel free. Of what I’m not sure. But I’m more at ease these days. With who I am, with work, with my relationship status. That reminds me: I promised I’d message Victoria about her birthday.

I throw all the post into the recycling box that one of my clever neighbours set up down here, but keep hold of the thick card envelope, which I slice open with my key.

It’s a wedding invite. I’ve been invited to Max’s wedding. ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ I mutter to myself as I hit the button summoning the lift. I weigh up whether I can go. It’s on 28 December. That’s a strange time to have a wedding, although it’s nice of him to invite me. We’ve spoken a bit since we stopped working together. But now that I don’t live in New York, maintaining old relationships can be difficult. I could go back for the wedding, though.

I quite fancy it actually. I wonder if Lexie might be there? Last time I checked, she was living with Josh in Somerset. It’s been so long since we last spoke, I wonder if I should message her now, break the ice again before we meet in New York. I feel we’re forever breaking the ice and then letting it settle back in place as the months drift by.

I stab the button for the lift again and see it’s still on the fifth floor. Someone’s probably got it jammed open while they unload their food shopping. I look down at my phone and stare at Lexie’s number.

Maybe I’ll text her later, after I’ve RSVP’d to Max’s wedding.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Lexie

December

‘Is this the invite?’ Scarlet asks, spying it on my mantel and moving over to take a look. ‘That’s lovely.Verygood paper quality.’

I chuckle to myself as I make us both dinner.

‘Shame I can’t be your plus-one for this one,’ she continues, placing the invitation back on the mantel. She and Rory are going on their first proper holiday together while I’m away. ‘New York would have been amazing.’

‘Who am I going to play wedding bingo with now?’ I ask.

‘It’s finally happened,’ Scarlet says mournfully. ‘We aren’t plus-one-ing each other to weddings. That’s it. It’s ended.’

‘No, don’t say that. There are always more weddings. Always.’

Why Max has chosen to have his wedding in between Christmas and New Year is beyond me. It’s a ridiculously busy time of year for most people. I’ve personally got to get from Edinburgh to my mum’s in Berkshire, then to my dad’sin Hertfordshire and then catch a flight on 27 December from Heathrow. I’m only in the US for two days and then I’m heading home. It’s going to be a fast turnaround, but I suppose it’s nice to have all these places to go to. And when the time comes, I’m bubbling with excitement to return to New York and celebrate Max’s wedding. Although I won’t have anyone to play wedding bingo with this time.

As I exit the terminal at JFK the ice-cold air hits me like a tidal wave. Christmas in New York is as exuberant as I remember it, but the weather is no joke. Seeing the twinkling lights and skyscrapers of Manhattan, I can’t work out if it’s the change of location, the fact that I’m hardly ever here and excited to be back or whether I’m bowled over by New York generally, but I feel so buoyant about everything. Life is good. I love it here. I love my life in Edinburgh. I think of Chris and how easily he moved from England to New York five years ago. And then back again a few years later. I wonder if I could do the same thing with New York. Maybe I’ll move from Edinburgh in a few years’ time. Who knows? I’m enjoying the not knowing.

I haven’t spoken to Chris much since the last time I saw him at the hotel opening in March. That’s about eight months, but who’s counting? We said goodbye over a long call when he was sending out his farewell emails during his last day at work. I wished him luck for his leaving drinks, and thought then how strange it would be not knowing what his new office would look like, where he’d sit or how he’d spend his days. I couldn’t picture him any more in his dailyenvironment and it bothered me. I don’t know how or when we’ll speak properly again. He’s gone a bit off-radar – has activated stealth mode.

I found him on Instagram and followed him. Chris followed me back. We’ve liked each other’s posts a few times. And that’s as far as it’s gone. I miss him, though. I miss his conversation, his sense of humour, his openness. I wondered about messaging him, but decided against it. I’ve been in too strange a place emotionally, after everything that happened with Josh, to consider talking to Chris at the moment. And he hasn’t messaged me, either. But I hope we will soon.

Men and women being friendsiskind of weird if there’s an added layer of obvious chemistry. And he’s got a girlfriend.I am not stupid enough to be mates with someone I fancy. I can’t be mates with someone I want to kiss every time I see her. I can’t be mates with someone I can’t stop fucking thinking about.

I think about what Chris said at the last wedding we were at together. I think about a lot of things he’s said over the years. The intense words he and I have shared are the kind that Josh and I should have been exchanging. Josh rang me again this morning. But I can’t talk to him. I don’t want to. What is there to say? I let it ring and ring. He’s tenacious; he hung on for ages. Butheended it with me. I’ve moved on. We got together so immediately and fell into being a couple so quickly, so easily. There was physical chemistry between Josh and me, and I wonder now if that was the main cut and thrust of our relationship.

But Chris … we barely even touched, never kissed. Ourconnection was based on a personality fit. You can’t fake that. You can’t replicate it with another person, either.

Most of our recent interactions before he went off-radar were work-related, but Chris was there, in my life, hovering in the background. And now he’s not. At all. I really miss him.

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