Page 126 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
“I’d have thought you’d have got married in your hometown. Isn’t that the tradition?”
“I suppose it is. But it’s going to be a big wedding with people flying in from all over the world. Lots of David’s business contacts are coming, so it just seemed easier to hold it all in London.”
“Ah, I see,” Sean said again.
We both took a gulp of our drinks. The whiskey burned at my throat—but at least it wasn’t as sickly sweet as the brandy.
I sighed heavily.
“What’s up, Red?” Sean asked, winking at me. “Tough night?”
I tried to raise a smile but couldn’t. “I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“You mean about what your father said?”
“Partly.”
I looked at Sean. I was trying hard not to think too much about what my father had said. After all, Dad had only just met Sean tonight; he didn’t know what he was really like. But there were too many things that kept bugging me about it all. Was work so important to Sean that it meant more to him tonight than me? And even if the business thing was just a bluff so he could go out and see Mum, was Dad correct, was Sean using my parents to get to me? No, that couldn’t be right; Sean wasn’t like that. But why then hadn’t he told me he’d seen Mum? It just didn’t add up.
“Do I get any more than just a partly?” Sean asked, tipping his head to one side. “How about a two-thirdsly, or even, if I ask nicely, a three-quartersly?”
I half smiled at him. “Sorry. I was thinking about how I messed up again tonight. I was lucky it didn’t turn out a lot worse. I seem to have very understanding parentsandvery understanding friends.”
“That you do,” Sean said, nodding. He took a drink from his glass. “So whatdidyour father say?”
“About?”WasSeanfishingtoseeifDadhadmentionedhim?
“About everything. About your mum, about your movie chasing, about everything else you seem to do that annoys him.”
“I’m not doing the movie thing anymore.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because there’s just no point in trying to prove my theory any longer—I told Dad earlier that I’d had loads of experience of life being like a movie since I’ve been here, and I still don’t think he believed me. So what’s the point? Maybe I was never right in the first place anyway. Maybe theywerejust all coincidences.”
Sean stared at me in amazement. “I cannot believe I am hearing you say this.”
“Why? I’m entitled to change my mind, aren’t I?”
Sean raised his eyebrows.
I sighed. “It’s just after everything that’s happened over the last few weeks—and especially tonight—I’m beginning to think that Dad and David and whoever else has said it to me in the past was right, Sean—life really isn’t like a movie. You can try as hard as you want to make it that way, but there never is that perfect fairytale ending you get at the cinema, and there never will be.”
I drank some more of my whiskey while Sean continued to stare at me in disbelief.
“Scarlett, stop it,” he said eventually. “This is not you talking. What’s happened to you? You were so full of hope and optimism when I first met you, and now you’re so…so…”
“Realistic,” I said flatly. “That’s the word you’re searching for. If this experience has taught me anything, it’s taught me realism, Sean. I thought the reason I came to London was toprove my family wrong about the movies. But I’ve discovered the true reason was so I could find something that’s been missing from my life all these years—my mother. I’m telling you, Sean, everything happens—”
“Yes, I know, for a reason. You’ve said so before—many a time. But finding your mother could just have been an added bonus while you’re here. Why does it have to be theonlyreason for what’s gone on?”
“It’s not theonlyone—it’s the main one. These last few weeks have also taught me that I’m luckier than I ever realized with the life I have back in Stratford. Meeting my mother and hearing about the life she’s had, and the men she’s met since leaving my father, has made me realize that the grassisn’talways greener on the other side. It may seem it for a while, but then when the grass withers and dies, and there’s nothing left, you have to start all over again from the beginning—sowing the seeds and watching it grow again.”
“So what are you saying, Scarlett?” Sean said, putting his whiskey down on the table. “You’d rather your life was full of plain gray concrete—solid and virtually indestructible—so that nothing could ever come along and damage it?”
I nodded.
“Bullshit,” Sean said. “I don’t believe you. Before you came here, you’d have wanted more than just a neat green lawn. You’d have wanted a whole meadow full of long grass and wild flowers for you to run through.”
