Thirteen Weddings (37 page)

Alex murmurs and I glance down at him.

‘Wow, your eyes are really blue,’ I say with surprise, my voice coming out sounding huskier than usual.

He smiles sleepily up at me. ‘What time is it?’ His voice is thick with sleep and alcohol abuse.

‘I don’t know. I think it’s late morning, judging by the sunlight.’ I turn my head back towards the curtains. ‘Look at the light shaft. The dust motes are like
fairy dust. They’re magical.’

He frowns. ‘What are you going on about?’

‘Can’t you see them?’

‘No.’

‘Maybe you have to move out of the light to see how beautiful it is,’ I muse.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he says.

Emotion bubbles up inside me and I can’t hold it back. I cry silently, muffling my sobs with my arm as tears trek down my cheeks. And then Lachie’s words come back
to me and I cry even harder.

‘I’d give anything not to fall for someone I can’t have, Bronnie.’

When Lachie finds me, I’m shivering uncontrollably.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he gasps in dismay as he scoops me up in his arms. ‘Come back to bed.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I just can’t...’

‘Shh,’ he silences me with his kisses and I find myself melting into him, desperate to escape my memories.

I wake up suddenly in the morning and stare at the wall for a while, just thinking. A minute or two later I realise that Lachie is also awake. I turn to face him, as
humiliation washes over me. He looks concerned as he regards me. I don’t know how long he’s been awake.

‘Are you alright?’ he asks me.

‘Yeah.’ My face heats up. ‘Bloody hell, that was a bit melodramatic of me, wasn’t it?’ I try to make a joke of it.

He doesn’t smile. ‘I’m worried about you,’ he murmurs.

‘Don’t be worried about me,’ I brush him off and sit up in bed. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You see, I just don’t think that you are,’ he replies quietly, looking up at me.

‘Oh Lachie, stop it,’ I say with a little frown. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me last night. Please just forget about it. It’s
embarrassing.’

He sighs and reaches up to pull me down into the crook of his arm. I go, a little reluctantly. ‘I was thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t go travelling. I could stay here until next month.
Maybe we could even fly home together.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I snap, feeling him tense up at my tone. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean you’re ridiculous,’ I quickly apologise as I raise myself up on my
elbows to look at him. ‘But I
really
don’t want you changing your plans for me. There’s no need.
Go
have fun. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.’

‘That’s not necessarily true.’

‘You know what I mean. I just... Please. I
want
you to go.’ I put my hand on his chest in what I hope is a reassuring gesture, but I feel his body stiffen even more. I’m
not doing very well. ‘I don’t mean I
want
you to go. Of course I don’t. I’m going to miss you.’ I lean down to kiss him, but his lips are rigid. I pull away
again.

‘Stay away from Alex,’ he says warningly, with a defiant, direct stare. My eyes widen. He’s bordering on angry as he continues. ‘I saw the look on his face when you
kissed me at the station. He wasn’t expecting that. You didn’t tell him we were together?’

‘No, I...’ I blush again and I realise this makes me look guilty. ‘I’ve barely spoken to him!’ I can’t help raising my voice as I try to defend myself.
‘I’m avoiding him. I
am
staying away from him,’ I try to convince him, but I’m not sure I’m going to succeed. ‘Lachie,’ I say with disappointment as
he breaks eye contact with me to glare at the ceiling. ‘He’s getting married in three weeks. You have nothing to worry about.’ I put my hand on his chest, hoping to soothe him.
‘I really... like you,’ I tell him, but I’m not sure it’s enough. My hand rises and falls with his heavy sigh. ‘I really do,’ I add.

He briefly covers his face with his hands and then pulls himself together. ‘I guess I’d better get ready,’ he says eventually and my heart sinks as he climbs out of bed.

I don’t have time to dwell on his mood, though. I have to get ready, too.

He sees me to the Tube station. His flight isn’t until later. We walk in silence and I feel very flat, very morose. I turn to face him on the bustling pavement. The
twinkle from his blue eyes has gone – he’s not smiling, and neither am I. At that moment I feel more than just ‘like’ for him, but I’m still not sure it’s enough
– and it’s too late anyway.

‘I’ll see you in December?’ I stare at him with regret.

He nods, but doesn’t reply.

‘Will you text me from Europe? Stay in touch?’

‘Yeah,’ he mutters.

‘Lachie, please,’ I say, taking his hands and fighting back tears. ‘I care so much about you. I’m going to really miss you.’

His eyes meet mine and my sadness is plain to see. Finally, he takes me in his arms and I hold him as tightly as I can.

After a while his chest vibrates against mine as he chuckles. ‘You’re crushing me,’ he murmurs into my hair.

‘Really?’ I grin up at him. ‘You great big wuss.’

He grins down at me and I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him. But his arms hold me in place and he deepens the kiss as his lips move against mine. My knees go weak as I slip my arms around his neck
and kiss him back.

It’s only the sound of someone muttering, ‘Get a room,’ that makes us break apart.

‘See you soon,’ I say, giving him one last quick, tight hug before turning away. I swear I hear him say he loves me as I hurry into the Tube station.

Coincidentally or not, Alex and I bump into each other again at the station.

‘How was last night?’ he asks me on the walk into work.

‘Fine,’ I reply, staring ahead glumly as we pass St Giles Church on our right. ‘I’m going to miss him,’ I admit, swallowing.

‘I didn’t know you guys were...’ His sentence trails off.

‘Yeah,’ I reply quietly.

‘When did that happen?’

I frown at him. ‘Does it really matter?’ I can’t help sounding touchy and he looks shifty.

‘No, of course not,’ he replies a little defensively. ‘I’m just happy for you, that’s all.’

He doesn’t sound very happy.

‘Thanks.’ I try to sound gracious but fail miserably. ‘Don’t be too happy for me, though. He’s gone now.’

‘Not for long.’ His arm bumps me and I think he’s trying to cheer me up. It’s not working. But at least he’s making an effort for things not to be strained between
us.

I do as Lachie suggested and stay away from Alex as much as I can. Lachie texts me regularly to let me know where he is and what he’s doing and his messages are always
the highlight of my day. As Alex’s wedding day grows closer, our working relationship becomes easier. It still hurts to look at him sometimes. It doesn’t help when he wins a design
award at our publishing awards ceremony, clearly I’m not the only one who thinks he’s clever and talented. It still makes my heart clench when I breathe in his aftershave in the morning
when he comes into the kitchen to make tea. I don’t want to listen to our colleagues discussing all of the last-minute wedding details with him, and I don’t want to hear all the gory
details from Russ about Alex’s stag do. Sometimes I feel his eyes on me and I wonder how he really feels. But by choice or not, I’m moving on. And I know that he chose to do that some
time ago.

He works right up until his wedding, and on his last day, we all go out for lunch. I’d rather not be there, but it would be weird for me not to go. So I sit and chat to Lisa and Esther
about anything other than weddings until the hour is up and we have to return to work. Somehow I find myself walking back alongside Alex as we cross over Soho Square.

‘Well, good luck for tomorrow,’ I say, folding my arms across my chest to try to keep out some of the cold.

‘Thanks,’ he replies quietly.

‘Rachel will be there so you’re in good hands.’

‘Feels kind of wrong that you’re not going to be there,’ he says.

‘Does it?’ I let out a slight laugh and give him a sidelong look of disbelief.

‘Yeah,’ he says a little defensively. ‘I know you wouldn’t want to be—’

‘I wouldn’t care,’ I cut him off. ‘It’s all fine and anyway, it’s just work.’

We walk a few steps in silence.

‘It’s freezing,’ I mumble. ‘I’m actually starting to look forward to going home for Christmas, and I never thought I’d say that.’

He frowns slightly. ‘Why is that?’

‘Long story,’ I brush him off.

It occurs to me that he knows nothing about me, and I know nothing about him. Not really. I haven’t met his family, I haven’t met his sister, his mum has never cooked me one of her
famous roasts. I know nothing about his dad. Are they close?

It’s ridiculous to think that I could have ever taken Zara’s place – like he said, they have history. We just have chemistry. And I’m not even sure we have that any
more.

‘Where are you going on your honeymoon?’ I change the subject.

‘Austria. Then we’re driving to Switzerland via Italy.’

‘Sounds nice.’ Sounds cold.

‘Hopefully will be.’

‘How long are you going for?’ I ask casually.

‘Two weeks.’

‘Oh, so I won’t see you after today for quite some time.’

‘Why’s that?’ He looks confused.

‘I fly to Australia before you return.’

‘Oh, right.’

I’m taken aback to see Polly waiting on the pavement outside work.

My footsteps falter and Alex notices. Following my line of sight, he spies my friend. ‘You weren’t expecting her?’ he asks me.

I shake my head as my body goes rigid. ‘No.’

I haven’t seen her since that night at the pub where she embarrassed me in front of everyone. And apart from that one time we spoke on the phone, I haven’t attempted to call her,
either. I know that’s wrong. I know she’s going through a lot. But I can’t help but still feel angry at her.

‘Do you want me to tell Simon you’ll be a little late?’

‘Yes, please.’

I break away from him and go over to her. She looks different – sheepish for one, but also I see that she’s lost weight again, although not nearly as much as she had before her
wedding. She looks... well.

‘Hi,’ she says. ‘I had to come in to do some Christmas shopping. I thought I’d pop in to see you. Your boss said you were probably on your way back from lunch so I
thought I’d wait.’

‘Oh.’ I shift on my feet. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got to get back in there.’

‘Bronte,’ she says hesitantly. ‘Can we grab a quick coffee?’

‘Erm...’

‘Please,’ she says.

We go to the café across the road.

‘You look well,’ I tell her. ‘How are you? Are you still going to AA meetings?’

‘Yes.’ She nods.

‘That’s great, Polly. And how are things with Grant?’ I ask, taking a sip of my tea.

‘Really good.’ It’s her first genuine smile and despite my wariness around her, the sight lifts my spirits.

‘Really?’ I ask.

‘Yes.’ She smiles warmly, but her expression changes almost instantly and her eyes fill with tears. ‘He’s been a rock.’

I reach across and take her hand. I hate seeing her cry.

‘I’m so sorry, Bronte,’ she whispers. ‘I know I’ve been a shit friend. Grant told me some of the things I’ve said to you. Bridget did, too. I’m so sorry
I brought up your parents in front of your work mates.’

I stiffen and let go of her hand.

‘I know how much it hurts you to talk about your childhood and that was unforgivable.’ I brusquely nod my acceptance of her apology. ‘I know you’re going home at
Christmas, and I just wanted to say I hope it all goes well.’

‘Thank you.’ My tone sounds sharp.

‘My mum—’

‘Polly, I don’t want to hear what your mum thinks,’ I cut her off. Her mouth falls open.

‘I just wanted to—’ She hesitates, seeing my face. I feel sick inside. I wish she didn’t know everything about me. I wish she’d never moved to England. I wish
I’d never followed her. ‘I wanted to warn you,’ she finishes.

My nausea intensifies, but curiosity is a strange emotion, one that cannot often be tamed. ‘Warn me about what?’ I snap.

‘Mum saw the priest. You know. The one.’

My breath catches. ‘When? Where?’ My voice doesn’t sound like my own.

‘He’s at a church in the city.’

‘Does my mum know?’ I ask, feeling the blood drain from my face. He moved to Queensland. Why has he come back?

‘I’m not sure,’ Polly says. ‘But I can’t believe she doesn’t.’

No. Not much stays quiet around our parts. But she’s not finished yet.

‘She also saw your dad,’ she continues reluctantly. ‘He’s not good.’

‘Mum has told me,’ I reply in a shaky voice.

‘I just think you ought to be prepared.’

I don’t want to know any more. I’ll be there in person soon enough.

Polly walks me back to the office. ‘Can we catch up again?’ she asks me. ‘Come over for dinner sometime?’

I nod.

‘Bronte, I’m sorry,’ she says sincerely as we come to a stop outside my office block. ‘You’re my oldest and dearest friend. I don’t want to lose you.’
Her eyes are brimming with tears.

‘You’re not going to lose me,’ I say gently, giving her a hug. ‘I’m your oldest friend, but surely not your dearest,’ I chastise her gently.

She pulls away and looks at me with confusion.

‘Michelle is, now,’ I point out casually.

‘Michelle’s a good friend, but she’s not my best friend.’

I give her a wry look.

‘Is this because I didn’t ask you to be my bridesmaid?’ she asks with a sniff.

I laugh. ‘No,’ I lie, feeling embarrassed. ‘Forget about it.’

‘Bronte, you hate weddings!’ she exclaims, grabbing me by my arms and shaking me slightly. ‘I couldn’t actually believe it when you said you’d come!’

‘Really?’ I’m blushing furiously.

‘I thought you’d absolutely kill me if I asked you to dress up in watermelon!’

‘It was fuchsia.’

‘It was watermelon. It had green sleeves.’ I start to laugh. ‘Michelle still hasn’t forgiven me.’