Page 95 of Going Overboard

I take a moment, from my little bubble of happiness, to glance around the room. Todd and Nikki came, but not together – presumably giving the wedding planner (or was it the coordinator?) one last heart attack, making her shift the seating plan one last time.

I wonder if they’ll figure it out. I mean, they went through all of this to get together, what would it all be for, if they don’t work things out?

It’s funny, how genuine happiness changes your perspective, because I don’t have a bad thought or feeling towards either of them. Truly, I mean it, I hope they work things out. I’m over Todd, over the betrayal, over Nikki’s games – all of it. And Brody clearly is too.

Whether they do or don’t work it out, you know what? It’s not my problem. I’m letting it all go and I feel so, so much lighter.

With the dance over, Brody and I saunter out onto the terrace, to take in the view as the sun sets. As the sky cycles through the colours, we sit on a bench. I rest my head on Brody’s shoulder and sigh.

‘It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?’ I say.

‘I know not all of it was ideal but… we’re where we want to be now, right?’ he replies.

‘We are,’ I tell him.

‘If I hadn’t been dumped, and you hadn’t been, you know, publicly humiliated in front of everyone at Al and Kira’s wedding…’

‘Thank you for the reminder,’ I say, deadpan.

‘…then we wouldn’t have ended up here. Unless this was your plan, all along – I’ll bet you threw yourself into that fountain, on purpose, and when Al pulled you out instead of me, I’ll bet you were gutted.’

I smile because now, when he teases me, it feels like foreplay.

‘I’m not in the habit of throwing myself into water features to get men,’ I tell him.

‘And yet every time I’ve seen you fall into one – which is three times, by the way – I’ve fallen for you a little harder,’ he replies.

‘Well, in that case, I’m grateful for each impromptu dip,’ I tell him.

And I mean it, I really am.

The road to the two of us getting together may have been messy – and incredibly embarrassing for me – but true love is never plain sailing, is it?

I’ve never really bought into the idea that everything happens for a reason. Well, why can’t good stuff happen without bad? Why do we have to pretend to be grateful for shitty things if weultimately end up in a better place? But whether I believe in fate or not is by the by.

If Todd and Nikki hadn’t got together, if they hadn’t broken up with me and Brody at the same time, then what are the chances that Brody and I would have met? We were thrown together at Al and Kira’s wedding, whether it was by fate or circumstance, and maybe it would have happened anyway, who knows? But there’s no way I would be here, with my head on his shoulder, if it hadn’t been for the valet mix-up, the bouquet incident, my dip in the fountain, sharing his room that night… and so on and so on.

I look out at the ocean and smile. The view from here looks great.

Who cares if all of this is down to fate, luck or coincidence? The past is the past, and I’m so, so happy with the present. And as for the future? Suddenly that seems much brighter too. I’m not sure exactly what it looks like, but I’ll send you a postcard when I get there.

39

TWO YEARS LATER

The floor beneath my boots is dusty and covered with rogue screws and bits of plasterboard. It smells like concrete and cuts of wood and outdoors. And like home, because it is, it’s my home. My dream home – well, almost. It’s the bones of it, the walls, the best part of the roof, some rooms plastered, some not. But it’s coming along and, when I’m in here, my imagination runs away with me. Not only thinking about how I’ll style it, but how I’ll live in it. It’s almost like I can see my life playing out in front of my eyes, but in the best possible way.

I can picture the living room, where the sun will pour in through the windows on lazy Sundays, the two of us curled up on the sofa with cups of tea and something easy to watch on the TV. Or in the kitchen, where I’ll attempt overly ambitious dishes, emboldened by all the fancy appliances I’m going to have. And then there’s the upstairs – not that we have the stairs to get up there yet, but I’m already getting excited about having a big bedroom, and en suite, the dressing room of my dreams.

But for now it’s still a shell, and a dark one at that, because it’slate and dark and the only light is coming from the work lights dotted around the place.

‘I hate watching you walk down that thing,’ I say, watching Brody navigate the ladder back to the ground floor.

‘I just wanted to see the roof,’ he replies. ‘You worry too much. Here, listen to some music, chill out. We’re home.’

I can’t help but laugh as he scrolls through his music library, eventually settling on an REO Speedwagon song.

‘You have the music taste of your dad,’ I tell him.

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