Page 75 of The Love of Our Lives
‘Shit, Emily, I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, but I have to know,’ he says.
‘Know what?’
‘If you see this happening again; me and you, I mean.’
He looks so very vulnerable suddenly under the hotel’s light, and my heart goes out to him.
A second later, I’m kissing him, and it feels strange and familiar all at once. I hear him gasp at the surprise of it, and then he’s kissing me firmly back, and his arms go around me and I don’t know what’s happening exactly, but it’s as though I’m not even in control of my own body anymore.
After a few moments, I pull back. My heart is racing and I have no idea what’s going on, but what I do know is this is another moment that’s happened before.
And I must be on the right track.
‘I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow,’ he murmurs finally, dropping my hand.
‘I suppose you will,’ I say, and with that I turn and head back into the hotel.
The day of the wedding is gorgeously sunny, as though somehow Fran’s family has managed to make it so. I woke up alone in my suite feeling a little confused and dazed from last night, but I’ve barely had time to process anything when Fran runs in ranting and raving about a spot. ‘Jesus F-ing Christ,’ she says, examining her face in the mirror, and I instinctively go to order ice from reception.
Then come the mothers and the nonnas all flapping about and telling tales about their own wedding days, and I can’t helpthinking back to Jess’s more intimate wedding – how subdued it all felt in contrast. We were missing someone big, after all.
Once Fran’s sorted her spot and the make-up artist appears, I start to take the pictures and I’m so thankful to her for this experience, for supporting my dreams like this, for just being a great friend. In no time at all, Fran has stepped into the most gorgeous antique dress of lace and silks. There are ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ from everyone and snaps on my camera and then we’re off to the ceremony in the church. It’s a traditional yet light affair in an exquisite cavern of stone, and as the priest starts taking us all through the vows, I catch Simon’s eye from the front pew. He’s not one of Toby’s groomsmen, given Toby has his three brothers standing beside him already and he said a fourth might be a bit ‘JLo’ of him, but I can sense his proximity just as much. And finally, I allow myself to think about last night again.
Because where did that kiss come from? Was that me who kissed him, or Emily? And why does it keep happening, the increasing memories and actions of hers?
I’m starting to worry I’ll eventually disappear completely.
But perhaps this also means I’m on the right track with figuring out what she wanted, and I have to think, if Emily experienced anything like what I’ve experienced in London so far, there’s a high chance she would have wanted to come back here. Because isn’t this a great life? Isn’t this all pretty special, like something from a dream?
Like a version of the life that I wanted too?
I don’t have long to dwell before we’re all throwing rice over the happy couple and crying ‘auguri!’ outside the doors and then heading back along to the reception down the road. And as I ride along in the wedding car next to Simon, I feel him take my hand – and I don’t immediately let go.
It kicks off in style with aperitivo back at the hotel, then yet another never-ending Italian feast followed by speeches, thendigestifs and dancing, and looking around, it’s clear that most people here are ‘something’. From the incredible dresses, to the smart suits and eye-watering expensive jewels, I’m surrounded by a sea of success, fame and style.
Simon always makes sure I’ve got a champagne in hand or some delicious canapé as I take the photos. But just occasionally, he gives me this strange look, which confuses me a little.
‘Will you excuse me for a minute?’ he says eventually.
‘Of course, everything OK?’
He looks at me softly, but I’m sure there’s a trace of concern there. ‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘everything is great.’
A number of people run up to me while he’s gone: Sofia from the company, Tess and Mira from school, Hugo and Chloe from the office, all charging over to ask about my ‘life sabbatical’, and asking when I’m returning to London, inviting Simon and me over for dinner or to some weekend away. And I know there could be something great here at the end for Emily, coming home and slotting back into everything.
But still, something is pulling at my chest, poking and prodding at me, and as the sun dips outside and the party really gets started, I find myself wandering into the cooler entrance foyer for a quick breather. It’s quiet here, except for a few guests moving through.
Hushed voices from somewhere, urgent and sharp. I look over to where they’re coming from – behind a large table of flowers.
And I don’t quite know why, but I find myself moving in their direction. I know I should be taking photos right now but I really have been snapping away all night, and Fran would want me to take at least one actual break, I’m sure.
Then I see them, Fran and Simon speaking to each other. I’m about to say hello when I stop. Because there’s something about their body language that’s off – the strained look on their faces,the way Fran is gesturing at him. ‘Don’t do this, please,’ she’s saying. ‘Not now.’
Then he’s saying, ‘she’s going to find out eventually, you know. And I can’t keep doing what I’m doing without telling her the truth about what happened with us.’
My heart stops.
Fran and Simon.
