Page 30 of Going Overboard

‘I’m just going to spit it out,’ I tell her. ‘Did you tell Todd he could bring Nikki to your wedding?’

Kelsey groans.

‘Shit, Jessa, no, of course not,’ she replies. ‘But technically Nikki was already invited, she was one of Neil’s guests. So I suppose they’ve just decided they’re coming together.’

‘I just spoke with Emma – she was a delight, as always – and she said they were sharing a room,’ I tell her.

‘Do you want me to ask them not to?’ Kelsey replies like a shot. ‘It’s no big deal, I could talk to Emma?—’

‘No!’ My voice comes out louder than intended. I take a deep breath. ‘No. It’s fine. It won’t make a difference. It’s all good.’

For a second or two there’s just silence.

‘Jessa, are you sure? Because if you’re not okay with this, if it’s too much – I would rather postpone the wedding. I mean it. You’re my best friend. I want you to be there but I don’t want you to be miserable.’

That’s the thing about Kelsey. She means it. She’d do it. She’d cancel the whole thing with a polite smile. And that’s exactly why I have to go through with it. For her. Because if our roles were reversed, she’d do it for me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, summon all my fake confidence, and lie straight through my teeth.

‘I promise, it’s okay,’ I reassure her. ‘I’m okay. If he’s in a roomwith her then he’s not in a room with me, he’ll be distracted, and I can just focus on having a great time.’

She exhales, relieved.

‘Well, that sounds great to me,’ she tells me. ‘I love you.’

‘Love you too,’ I reply. ‘And I’m really, really looking forward to your super extra wedding, and watching you and Neil tying the knot. I really can’t wait.’

‘Oh, that means so much to me. Not long to go now!’

‘I know! Anyway, lovely, I have to go, speak later, yeah?’ I say, because if we end this call now, then it’s perfect.

‘Definitely, see you later,’ she replies.

As I hang up, I catch sight of myself in the mirror.

Ugh. What are you looking at, huh?

It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be fine… and if I keep saying that, it might come true.

12

As I perch on the edge of my bar stool, I swing my feet anxiously. I’m in a trendy wine bar, in Leeds city centre, drinking a glass of champagne and trying my very best to feel something for Paul.

I met Paul through work – I’m selling his house in Alwoodley, a massive detached place with its own tennis court and, I don’t know, a million bedrooms. It’s a real dream of a place but, now that his divorce is through, he’s moving to something smaller.

Why, yes, of course we bonded over being newly single. Isn’t that tragic? The only thing more tragic, though, would be putting my life on hold while Todd lives it up with Kiki (I can’t help but mock the sickly-sweet way he called her that). So I’m here, having a drink, with a man, seeing how it goes.

Paul is handsome, in a clean-cut, pinstripe-suit kind of way. I don’t know what he does for work, we’ve not got to that bit yet, but it clearly pays better than my job.

He’s really making an effort too. He’s asking questions, laughing at my jokes – he even complimented my earrings, which had to be out of politeness, because he seems like a man with expensive taste, and I think these earrings were £4 from Primark.

‘You really did such a great job with my house,’ he says, reviving the conversation. ‘I hardly recognised the place, when you had it all dolled up. My wi… my ex-wife was never really into that kind of thing. We had an interior designer come around, when we moved in, who told her what to put where. I can’t remember her name, she was married to a footballer. Anyway, she told us what artwork to buy and where to put it, and which chairs spoke the same language as the trees outside and which paint colours gave off the right energy…’

His cheeks redden slightly, as his voice trails off.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I’m not making fun of your job. But what she did felt different.’

‘Well, yeah, I suppose because what I do is to sell places, not for people to live with,’ I explain. ‘I couldn’t come into your house and tell you what your taste should be – how can I know that? Artwork especially is such a personal thing, and it shouldn’t “speak” to the trees, it should speak to you. You’re the one who has to look at it every day. I don’t make a home, I make a shopfront for a home. Interior designers do incredible work, but it has to be with you, not for you. Everyone’s taste is their own, right?’

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