Page 98 of The Wedding Game

‘Is this the most boring conversation you’ve had all day?’ I ask and then smile wide in recognition as I remember this exact line from another conversation, soaked in so much small talk we were in danger of drowning until we cleverly lifted ourselves free. I’m in danger of drowning in small talk now.

But Xander isn’t smiling. He looks affronted.

‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ I continue quickly. ‘I’m implying that I’m boring.’ I’m not implying anything like this, actually. I’m implying that our conversation is boring, but Xander looks even more startled at my words and now I don’t know how to bring it all back to normality. I toy with the idea of suggesting we ditch the small talk and start on Big Talk, but I don’t. I don’t want Big Talk with this man who isdevoid of humour. It wouldn’t be the same. And deep down, I don’t want it to be the same.

This is going to look like the quickest about-turn in history, so here goes, I think, steeling myself. ‘Xander, it was so lovely to meet you,’ I say. ‘But I need to drink this swiftly and then say bye to Max. I have a flight to catch in …’ I glance at my watch, ‘a matter of hours.’

‘Oh, right. I see. OK. No problem. It was nice to meet you, Laura.’

‘Lexie,’ I reply.

‘Lexie,’ he repeats. ‘Have a great flight.’

‘Thank you.’ I give him a polite smile, neck half my drink and go in search of Max, so I can say goodbye and make my way home to Edinburgh.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Chris

January 2025

I look at the engagement ring as it sparkles on Victoria’s finger. She looks the happiest she’s been since I’ve known her. That should tell me everything, shouldn’t it? This isn’t a mistake. None of this is a mistake. Her happiness means so much.

My happiness means a lot to me too, and I haven’t overlooked that. I am happy. It was strange at first, the way this all happened. A chance encounter that I didn’t know would have such an ending. But I am genuinely overjoyed.

‘Are you OK?’ Victoria asks me.

‘I’m perfect,’ I reply.

‘Honestly?’ she asks, with meaning in her eyes – I forget how kind she is, how thoughtful, checking on me when all the attention should be on her.

‘Honestly,’ I say. ‘I couldn’t be happier. Any ideas about a date?’ I ask tentatively, so I can get more used to the idea of what’s going to happen.

‘September maybe? I don’t want to wait too long. Are you OK with that?’

I chuckle. ‘Victoria, you need to stop asking if I’m OK. I need you to enjoy this. Whatever you want is fine by me. I cannot stress this enough.’

She smiles, kisses me on the cheek and pulls me into an embrace. ‘I knew you were a good one,’ she replies, before moving off to rifle around in her bag for her diary.

I take the opportunity to glance at my phone. Max posted pictures of his wedding on Instagram. I feel kind of bad for not going, although I did RSVP a polite and regretful no. On reflection, it was too much to fit in around everything that was going on here, plus Christmas. But seeing the pictures of Max and his new wife, and a smiling Lexie talking with a guy at the bar (I zoomed in), has made me antsy. I have no right to be. But the feeling is there all the same.

If I’d gone, I’d have seen Lexie, spoken to her, been near her. I’m kicking myself that I didn’t go. Being near her would have been enough. I think. It would have had to be enough. I’ve looked at this picture a hundred times over the past week and I’m sure I’ll look at it a hundred more.

What might have been.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Lexie

The new year has arrived and with it a promotion, which Max hinted at but I didn’t like to hold him to, as the job needed to be advertised externally too. I love the bijou size of the company, as it’s not so large that there are people in the same department to fight off for a promotion. Because I’ve proven myself in the job and finished my course with a predicted high grade, I am now listed on the company website as Interior Designer instead of Design Assistant. I cannot believe it. The feeling is incredible. When my new business cards were delivered, I couldn’t tear the packaging open fast enough and stared at them for ages. I wanted to message Chris and show him and, in part, thank him again for helping me get here, for kick-starting the possibilities and opportunities. But I didn’t.

I’ve managed to prove my worth since starting in my role and now, as our Dublin hotel plans ramp up, I’ve flown out for the week to get the lie of the land.

This hotel is in an old factory from the 1950s, and Max and I have been debating whether we should venture into the expected, design-wise, with exposed steel beams, or whetherwe warm it up. I have this urge to brighten the space with pinks and greens and give it a faded 1950s Palm Springs vibe. It’ll be different, cool, inviting.

‘Gone off the idea of going totally emerald then?’ Max teases. I give him an embarrassed look and he casts his gaze around the huge space. ‘Like a Slim Aarons photograph?’ he suggests after a pause.

‘Exactly that. It was the rooftop pool on the architect plans that gave me the idea,’ I tell him as we stand in the gloomy space, hard hats on and notepads in hand. Max is here on his honeymoon: a grand tour of Europe and – in between drinking as much Guinness as he can while he’s in Dublin – we’ve arranged to meet for a quick afternoon of work.

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