Page 49 of You Belong With Me

‘Why wait?’ Fraser said, shrugging, as Molly peeled off entirely to show another gaggle of girls her ring. ‘We watchedWhen Harry Met Sally, and it clicked. When you know you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your lives to start straight away.No, Iggy, YOU put that down, come the fuck on …!’

Fraser’s attention was captured by some other point of interest, and he capered off again. With bombshell dropped, his already divided attention span was fractured into a hundred pieces. He was full Imp Mode.

Elliot held a placeholder smile for onlookers as he said, in a low voice: ‘What-the-fuck-just-happened-Edie?They’ve known each other less time than we have.Nora Ephron films are not a YouTube tutorial.’

‘It’s … a lot,’ Edie whispered. ‘Also, being picky … hadn’t Harry and Sally known each other about a decade? The whole point is it takes them years to realise?’

Elliot squeezed her hand again. ‘You’re the voice of sanity I need. I also need another one of those,’ Elliot said, looking at a tray of beers. ‘I might need twenty. I’ll go to the loo – get you another of those red things on the way back?’

Edie nodded, knowing a Diet Coke would be wiser. She’d consumed one skewer total of some spicy chicken business.

Edie saw Elliot seized by a guest on his way, so his return would not be instantaneous. She was going to have to do the dreaded mingling. Did anyone look approachable?

They were intimidatingly loud, confident,Made in Chelsea-ish: salon-blown hair, tanned legs jutting through splits in dresses, quilted bags on chains with logos, the men all bone structure and signet rings. They were what Hannah called ‘Upspeaking Yahs’.

Edie had a pang for Nick and Hannah. Followed by a harder pang that these weren’t her people and never would be, and that sharing taste in human beings mattered.

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Edie surveyed the tables of food and the endlessly replenished drinks, no card machines in sight, and idly wondered: who paid? Was it Elliot, or was it Fraser, or both? Or neither? In Elliot’s world, you never saw a bill, or the transaction.

There were many who’d revel in the rampant prosperity, and Edie felt guilty even analysing it, both ungrateful and disloyal. They’d done the kids chat, not the money ones.

Except one late night confessional when she’d mentioned worrying about her dad’s slightly threadbare existence and Elliot had said: ‘If you ever needed anything, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you? You know I would fix anything you asked me to?’

Edie had said: ‘Yes, thank you,’ while thinking:God no, but thank you.

They said no more, as it was surprisingly sensitive. Your boyfriend buying dinner – lovely. Your boyfriend paying off mortgages – you’re off the Normal map.

But it wasn’t as if a skint partner was easy. If Edie considered Elliot’s tax bracket a problem, it was the most champagne one imaginable. More than champagne, it was amy private jet has the wrong colour carpetproblem.

What was it that bothered her, if she drilled down? It was the inequality. Irresolvable inequality. If she and Elliot ever moved in together, it’d be to his house, not their house, because the idea she could meaningfully contribute would be farcical.

Edie thought of what Hannah said:Build a life together that’s the right size for both of you.On basic floor plan terms, she could make her life bigger for him through his largesse and her compliance. He couldn’t, realistically, make his life much smaller for her. It was a fairy tale all right: millionaire accepts life on Skid Row, for love.

Except it wasn’t Skid Row: she cherished Carrington and her house, and she liked being in charge of her life.

This existential angsting wasn’t helping, and she shook it off.

Edie decided her opener would be:How do you know Fraser?– preferable to striding into conversations and saying:Hi, Edie Thompson, ad exec.

‘Hi, I’m Edie,’ she said to the nearest person, doing her most winsome smile. ‘I’m trying to meet people. How do you know Fraser?’

‘Anto,’ the man said, extending his non Peroni-holding hand to shake Edie’s. He was a wolfish sort of handsome: very underfed facial contours softened by a beard, slim-fit jacket fastened with one button.

‘Anto, that’s a cool name – is it Italian?’

Anto nearly spat his beer. ‘Anthony.I like that, though. I might start telling people I am. I come from the Latin quarter of Stevenage.’

‘Hahaha.’

‘I work with Fraser. How do you know him?’

‘Through Elliot.’

‘Ah, we know to hang back from Elliot’s people. We don’t know the correct protocol.’

‘Really?’

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