Page 27 of The Love of Our Lives
It’s all starting to make sense suddenly – the big changes, the expensive stuff around the more humble flat, the man I seem to recognise from the photos. And looking down at it now, I see what I didn’t before – a pale line running around my wedding finger.
But how the hell did I know they were engaged? How did I know he was cheating?
And who with anyway?
As though reading my mind, Fran says tentatively, ‘Did you ever find out who it was? The person he met that night? I can’t believe he left the receipt out like that.’
I find myself shaking my head, and in that moment, I know that also to be true.
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘You sure you’re OK?’ Fran says, worry etched in her voice now. ‘I could come up to see you if you like?’
‘That’s OK,’ I say eventually. ‘Maybe in a bit, I’m still getting used to everything I guess.’
A pause.
‘All right,’ Fran says. ‘You just let me know when.’
I’m about to say goodbye when I hear her take a breath in.
‘I really do miss you, E,’ she says, and I stop. She sounds upset.
‘I miss you too,’ I find myself saying, more because it would be really harsh not to.
‘But I suppose I get why you’ve made the move,’ she continues, like she’s trying to work it out, ‘what with your work hours and the gym every morning and the grilled fish every night . . . though most people would have killed for your life with that rooftop apartment of yours. Not that you ever got to see it much. You were the same at university, looking back; work work work, remember? Then I guess it just didn’t stop – we barely saw you in the last year.’
I’m wondering who she means byweexactly. And why did Emily come to Edinburgh, for that matter? When she could have gone anywhere?
‘That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to come back,’ Fran adds quickly. ‘Just . . . what I’m trying to say, badly, is maybe you do need some time to chill. Process everything.’
‘Well, thanks for clearing that up.’ I smile.
‘Anytime, E.’
‘And if you need any more help planning your wedding,’ I find myself adding, ‘I’m only a phone call away. I have some experience.’
‘I know,’ she adds with a laugh, ‘and I will hold you to that.’
We finally say our goodbyes and, putting the photos of Simon away in my handbag, I head back to the flat.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Later that evening, I wait for Adam on the street outside our building. He called me in the afternoon while I was buying a few things for dinner, told me he’d catch me after work around seven. He also told me to wear something warm on the top, which confused me – it turned into quite a warm day after I spoke to Fran, the air practically balmy. But I forced myself to find an internet café first so I could do a little digging on Fran and Emily, just so I know what I’m talking about next time. It turned out Fran’s family was based in Kent while Emily was raised in London, but the wider family is all Italian and living in Rome. They went to the same elite school together, then Oxford, before ending up at the same company back in London. The best of friends as well as cousins it appears.
Once I’d ticked that off, I took a blanket from the cupboard to the Meadows and whiled away the rest of the afternoon simply soaking up the sunshine.
Now, as I stand on the pavement outside the building, I think about where we’ll walk. Maybe around the area? Into town?
A white van drives along the road and I’m surprised when it pulls up right beside me. Adam grins out of the open window at me.
‘Jump in.’
I frown. ‘I thought we were going on a walk.’
‘We are,’ he says, arching one eyebrow at me and I shake my head lightly in amusement.
As I walk around to the passenger seat, I think about how he keeps surprising me and yet I have this remarkably safe feeling around him at the same time.
