The Accidental Proposal (30 page)

‘Well, what if I don’t want to?’ says Jane, blinking away her tears. ‘Especially not after the other day. I knew there was still something between us. And I know you felt it too.’

Bollocks
, again. Does she mean in Megabite, and some perception she has that I still have feelings for her, or is she referring to our night together at the hotel? I pull my hand away, and wipe it surreptitiously on my trousers.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Don’t deny it, Edward.’

‘Jane, I . . .’ I’m conscious I might be getting myself into trouble, but I just can’t come out and ask. I need to get Jane to admit it if it was her. And maybe I can do that by goading her a little bit and making her think that if anything happened, then it didn’t mean anything. ‘I mean, whatever happened between us, that’s in the past. And that’s where it has to stay.’

‘Oh really?’ Jane’s expression changes back to her earlier angry one. ‘Not necessarily.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘What if I tell Sam exactly what you’re like? The kind of things you do.’

Great. Now I’m at bollocks times three. Because now she might be alluding to anything over the ten years she and I were together – and I certainly wasn’t the perfect boyfriend then. And while the fact that Jane and I might have slept together the other night is definitely the last thing Sam needs to hear about in the week before our wedding, having a full run-down on just exactly what I’m like over the longer-term is probably not going be much help to my cause either.

‘Why would you do something like that?’

‘Why do you think, Edward?’ she shouts, then her expression changes, and she forces a smile. ‘See you on Saturday,’ she says sweetly, before turning around smartly and disappearing back into her building.

I stare at the still-revolving door, unable to believe what’s just happened. Not only am I no clearer as to whether Jane was my mystery guest, but I’ve managed to tell her where and when I’m getting married
and
upset her into the bargain.

1.46 p.m.

When I get back to the office, Natasha’s already there, and while I may not have done anything about my own dilemma, at least I can try and help Dan’s cause a little. And given the fact that she seems to be in a good mood thanks to the fees those two placements have earned the company this morning, now seems to be as a good a time as any.

‘Er, Natasha?’ I say, putting the cup of coffee I’ve bought for myself down in front of her.

She eyes my offering suspiciously. ‘What are you after?’

‘Nothing,’ I say, although we both know the exact opposite is true. ‘Nice weekend?’

‘Not bad, thanks.’

‘Though speaking of weddings, which we weren’t, you are going to come, aren’t you?’

‘Of course, Edward.’

‘And are you . . . Bringing anyone?’ I ask nervously.

Natasha laughs. ‘It’s this Saturday, isn’t it?’

I swallow hard at the realization of how my feelings towards the day have changed. Two weeks ago, I couldn’t wait for it to come. Now, I almost wish it wasn’t happening. ‘Yup.’

‘Then no, probably,’ she says, sighing at the prospect of another relationship that’s unlikely to last. ‘Having him for two consecutive weekends is probably a bit too much.’

‘For you?’

‘For his wife. Why?’

‘It’s just that, well . . .’ I take a deep breath. ‘You do know Dan’s coming? And that he’s my best man.’

‘I assumed as much.’

‘Great. But there’s one other thing.’

Natasha’s face darkens. ‘Which is?’

‘Well, one of Dan’s ex-girlfriends is going to be there.’

‘Only one? You can’t be inviting that many people.’

‘And he’s going to try and win her back. Which he can’t do if he’s going to have one eye on you all the time in case you’re coming at him with the knife we use to cut the cake.’

She looks at me levelly. ‘Don’t worry, Edward. If I wanted to hurt Dan physically, I’d have done it a long time ago.’

‘Oh. Right. Good. Well, that’s a relief. I think.’

‘So, one of Dan’s exes?’ Natasha pops the top off the coffee cup and takes a sip. ‘This wouldn’t be the famous Polly, by any chance?’

‘How do you know about her?’

‘Dan mentioned her once or twice. “The one that got away.” Although when he called out her name in bed one night,
he
nearly didn’t.’ She smiles to herself at the memory, then shakes her head. ‘He’ll never go through with it.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘Because he doesn’t really want her back.’

‘He does. He said so.’

Natasha sighs. ‘How long has he been talking about Polly as “The one that got away”, or “His one true love”, or “The only person who understands him”? Which, incidentally, if she can, then she’s a genius.’

‘I dunno. Ever since they split up, I suppose. Why?’

Natasha indicates for me to sit down. ‘Don’t you see? She’s his excuse for behaving the way he does. The fact that he can treat all these women the way he does without any sort of conscience is because Polly’s a get-out clause. He tells himself none of them will ever measure up. And so none of them do.’

‘That’s very, er, astute of you.’

Natasha shrugs. ‘I had some therapy once about why I only ever go for married men.’

‘Not for anger management?’

‘Why on earth would I need that?’ says Natasha, crossly.

‘You wouldn’t,’ I say, quickly. ‘And why was it? The married-men thing, I mean.’

She shrugs again. ‘It’s because I don’t want anyone who’s able to commit to me, apparently. So I always make sure there’s some barrier. That way, I’ve got an excuse when it goes wrong. It’s not my fault, because it would never have worked in the first place.’

‘Because they’re already married?’

‘Exactly. And in a way, that’s what Dan’s doing by making sure he’s not rejected again, like he was by Polly, by always ensuring he’s the one who does the rejecting. And always being able to justify it to himself.’

‘So why is he preparing to do this, then? Pledge his undying love to her.’

Natasha takes another sip of coffee. ‘You think he’s serious?’

‘I do.’

‘Well, in that case, it must be you, Edward,’ she says. ‘He’s finally realized he wants what you’ve got.’

‘That’s rubbish.’

‘Think about it. While he’s always boasted about his many conquests, he’s seen you hold down one relationship for the best part of ten years, and then go from that into an even better one. Not only that, you’ve found someone who’s prepared to marry you. How do you think that makes him feel?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

Natasha smiles. ‘Listen. Dan’s your best friend, and I’m sure he’s really pleased you and Sam are tying the knot but he’s probably also a little bit jealous.’

‘Jealous?’

‘Yes. And there’s probably even a small part of him that doesn’t want this wedding to go ahead.’

‘Because it makes him more aware of his own situation?’

‘Exactly. So be aware of that. Because as you know, jealousy can make people do strange things.’

The thing is, I know Natasha’s right; jealousy does make people do ‘strange things’. After all, I’ve seen how Jane’s behaved ever since she found out about me and Sam. Though when I think about it, given the way Dan abandoned me the other night, I’m not a hundred percent sure Natasha was just referring to his renewed interest in Polly.

12.56 p.m.

It’s the following lunchtime, and at my insistence, Dan and I have gone out for a jog along the seafront, and while I could do with the workout, I’m hoping more that the exercise will help jog my memory about the events of the other night. I’m also praying that Dan’s recollections will have improved over the last forty-eight hours, but I don’t hold out much hope. Dan usually has trouble remembering what – or who – he’s had for breakfast that day.

‘What about the woman you spent that night with?’ I say, as we run past the end of the pier. ‘She might remember something.’

‘That would assume
I
could remember something.’

‘What?’

‘Who
she
was.’

‘Thanks for nothing.’ I jog on in silence for a few moments, then grab Dan’s arm, stopping him abruptly. ‘You don’t think someone slipped something into my drink, do you?’

‘Like what?’

‘You know. That drug that makes you forget what happened the previous evening. Rohypnol, or whatever it’s called.’

‘Unlikely. In fact, if I was her, I’d have saved it for myself once I’d realized I’d slept with you.’ Dan laughs, then sets off again at a slightly faster pace, indicating for me to follow. ‘So you might have accidentally slept with someone else. What’s the big deal?’

I stare miserably at the pavement in front of me as I run, wondering where to start. For Dan, maybe it’s not such a big deal. But for me, it’s the complete opposite. The truth is, and despite anything that Sam might have been up to, I feel awful. Terrible, even. And as the wedding approaches, it’s only getting worse.

Thinking back, there have been three times I’ve had reason to feel like this in the last three years: the first was when Jane cheated on me, making me feel worthless, and also repelled that I was touching someone who’d recently been touched by someone else. Then there was the day Jane left me, because it’s one thing to be rejected for someone else, but another thing entirely to be rejected because someone would rather be single, or alone, than stay with you. And I remember the heart-wrenching pain of loneliness, and the feeling that if Jane was even experiencing half of that, then things must have been pretty bad for her to have chosen this over the alternative.

And then there was the time last year when I thought Sam and I were splitting up. Again, it was Jane’s fault – sort of – or rather, the fact that I didn’t know how to behave towards my ex, while thinking I was doing the right thing by my current girlfriend. And while it was all a misunderstanding, and we actually laugh about it now – well, Sam and Dan laugh, and I pretend to go along with them – it certainly wasn’t funny at the time. And ironically, it was because I felt so much more alone, so much emptier and so sick, that it was then I knew I felt way more for Sam than I ever did for Jane, which made me even more determined to get her back. More, even, than I’d been after Jane left, and despite knowing all the hurt I put myself through back then.

But this? It’s a hundred times worse than all of those put together. Not only have I let myself down, but I’ve let Sam down too. And as much as I’d like to be able to blame someone else for this – and Dan’s the best candidate – I can’t. It’s all my fault.

‘Dan, you don’t understand how it is. Ever since all that stuff last year, I feel bad enough if I forget to call Sam when I’ve said I would, or if I’m five minutes late home from work. So this – it’s a million times more serious.’

Dan spins round to jog backwards in front of me, pressing his thumb onto an imaginary table and grinding it downwards until he sees that I’m not joking. ‘Jesus, Ed,’ he says, turning back round, then quickly having to leap over a Yorkshire terrier being walked by an old lady. ‘Lighten up a bit, will you?’

‘What do you mean, lighten up?’ I snap.

‘Calm, down. All I’m saying is maybe you need to affirm your maleness a bit more. And this isn’t a bad way to start.’

‘By cheating on my fiancée? And what do you mean, “affirm my maleness”?’

‘Well, you’ve got to admit, you’re a bit . . .’ Dan stops talking as we head down a set of steps. ‘I mean, when you’re in a relationship, you kind of . . .’

‘What?’

‘Well, it’s just that Jane always . . . And now, Sam obviously . . .’

‘Dan, please just spit it out.’

‘Wears the trousers. I mean, you’re a man, goddamn it,’ he says, punching me on the shoulder. ‘You should be the one in charge. Telling her what to do. Letting her wait if you’re late. And if you want to see other women, sleep with them, even, well, that’s your right. As a . . .’

‘Bastard? Which I’m not.’

Dan grins across at me, then leaps to his left to avoid a pile of dog mess, nearly knocking me into the road in the process. ‘Maybe not. But you do need to assert yourself a little bit more. Women like that. Respect it, even. And in fact, some women rather like being, you know, dominated.’

‘We’re not talking about sex again, are we?’ I say, wondering where on earth he gets this stuff from, before guessing  it’s probably
Cosmo
.

He laughs again. ‘No. But you have to be the alpha male. Because that’s what we men do. And if we make a little mistake every now and again, do we get all touchy-feely about it and feel the need to spill our guts? No. We just put it down to experience, forget about it, and move on. After all, that’s what our fathers did. And they went through stuff like D-Day.’

I frown at him. ‘How old’s your dad?’

‘Okay. Our grandfathers, then. But my point is, that generation, they did some horrible things. Saw some really yucky stuff. But did they feel the need to come home and tell everyone about it? No. They maintained a stiff upper lip and kept it all buried. Because they were men. And that’s what men did. Do.’