Page 137 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
I looked up at David glowering at me from the steps above, and I nodded sadly.
“You do? Good. Well, just like the groom in that movie, Scarlett, I’m going to make this really easy for you and take the choice between me and Sean out of your hands. Because guess what?Idon’t want to marryyouanymore.”
There was a sharp intake of breath around the churchyard.
“I don’t want to marry someone I can’t rely on and trust to be there for me 100 percent. I don’t want to marry someone who thinks I’m only second best. And”—his voice that had been so strong and devoid of emotion when he’d first stood on the steps was beginning to break now—“most importantly, I don’t want to marry someone who is, without question, so completely and utterly in love with someone else.”
I made a move toward him but he held out his hand to stop me.
“No, Scarlett. You wanted it this way—you wanted to live like you were in a movie and now you are. I’ve given you your dramatic last scene, just like inTheWeddingPlanner. But I bet you never expected to be the bride jilted at her own wedding.”
“David, please,” I pleaded with him as he descended the steps of the church, obviously intending to leave this hellish situation I’d put him in as quickly as possible.
I caught up with him at the bottom and grabbed hold of his arm.
“David, wait…”
“Go to him, Scarlett,” he whispered to me. “He doesn’t deserve you, but go to him if that’s what you want. Maybe youcanhave that fairytale ending you’ve always wanted—even if it’s not with me.”
Then I watched as he marched out of the churchyard, quickly hailed a passing taxi, and was soon swallowed up into the swarming London traffic.
I turned back to the others, who were watching everything that was unfolding in front of them. Then I glanced down at the invitation I still held tightly in my hand; this time I saw the picture on the other side of the postcard.
“But it can’t be,” I whispered to myself. “How did he know?”
The postcard was one of those art cards, the sort you get in galleries as a souvenir of one of their paintings. And the painting on the card was of a bride on her wedding day—it wasLaMariée.
It was the painting that had hung in the art gallery I went to visit with Maddie. The one Julia Roberts had given to HughGrant in the movieNottingHill…The song that had been playing earlier had been from the same film. Ronan had sung it in the movie when they’d sat on the bench together in the moonlight—just like Sean and I had.
Notting Hill was also where Sean and I had first met, in a bookshop—just like Hugh and Julia had.
Now Sean was giving me this painting too…if I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that Sean knew these films as well as I did! But that was a mad thought, because he hated movies, didn’t he?
I turned the postcard over and read it once more.
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed as the realization of something awful hit me. “Where are Dermot and Finlay?”
Replacing their hats on their heads they emerged from the crowd again. “You were supposed to deliver this yesterday, weren’t you?” I demanded of Dermot.
“Yes, that’s right, but I did explain—”
“But it says for me to meet Sean tomorrow…that means he’s there now…today, at the top of the London Eye—waiting for me!”
I looked for the church clock. “What’s the time?” I asked impatiently when I couldn’t see it.
Everyone looked at their watches.
“It’s half past eleven,” Maddie answered first. “He’s still there if you’re going to go to him. Is that what you want, Scarlett? Do you want to go and find Sean?”
“I do,” I said, almost as though I needed to reinforce the decision for myself now it was finally made. “I do, Maddie. I’m going to go and find Sean, and I’m going to have the happy endingI’ve always wanted.” I hugged her. “Now then,” I asked, looking around at everyone else. “Just how do you get to the London Eye from here?”
“We’ll take you,” Dermot offered. “We’ve got our car parked around the corner.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that.”
“It’s OK. I used to be a London cabbie once upon a time. I have theknowledge,” Dermot said proudly. “Plus it would be our pleasure to help—wouldn’t it, Finlay? After all it’s our fault the invitation was late getting to you, it’s the least we can do.”
“If you’re sure?” I looked at Finlay, who nodded his agreement silently as always.
