Page 4 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
We finally made it home after battling peak-hour traffic in my old Mazda, arriving at the same time as our takeaway. While Matt, who’d turned over-ordering into an art form, pulled off plastic lid after plastic lid, I opened the package that had been waiting next to the food on our doorstep.
‘Our cake toppers have finally arrived!’ Matt’s mum had offered to make our wedding cake and had insisted that no multi-tiered fruitcake could be complete without bride and groom figurines. I’d decided that this wasn’t the hill (or top tier) to die on, so had dutifully ordered custom porcelain figurines.
I lifted out the bride topper. There she was – a brunette in a white dress radiating serenity. I placed her next to the pad thai then reached for the groom. My heart sank. The bottom of the box was filled with shards of china. The figurine didn’t have a head.
‘What do you think of the likeness?’ I asked, holding it up to Matt. He looked up from the coconut rice he was spooning into two bowls.
Before he could reply, I said, ‘Mum invoked the curse today.’
‘So now would not be a great time to tell you that the venue just emailed to say that they have a new menu, and we need to do another round of food tasting?’
‘Seriously? But we’ve already had the menus printed!’ I could feel my heart begin to race as my anxiety ratcheted up.
‘Yeah, but we knew we had to redo those anyway,’ Matt said gently. The first lot of menus had arrived, announcing that we were serving our guests ‘dick liver parfait’ as one of the entrees. ‘And just ignore Helena when she brings up the curse thing. I think she’s only trying to make a joke.’
‘But even you have to admit that pretty mucheverythinghas gone wrong. I mean I’d show you a picture of my trainwreck of a dress but it’s... actually, screw superstitions. Maybe doing something that’s meant to be bad luck will turn our fortunes around.’
I pulled out my phone and opened the picture Mum had begrudgingly taken at the fitting so I could send it to Dad. I turned the screen towards Matt.
‘It’s...’ He paused for a moment, and I could tell he was digging deep for something upbeat to say. We caught each other’s eyes and then both burst out laughing.
‘I know!’ I managed to squeak out between guffaws. Matt had to put down the tub of red curry he was holding because his eyes had filled with tears.
‘Our photographer is now legally blind!’ Matt said.
‘Our venue doesn’t have a roof!’ I added, ribs aching.
‘Though at the end of the day all that really matters is that we’re a photogenic couple,’ Matt said, holding up the decapitated figurine next to my phone, which was still displaying the photo of me wearing what looked like a voluminous toga at a student party. We both burst out laughing again.
‘Hey, come here,’ he said. He pulled me onto the couch next to him and wrapped his strong arms around me. He began to slowly run his fingers up and down my back. I felt both the hysteria and the anxiety begin to recede.
Matt looked straight into my eyes. ‘Okay, our wedding is almost certainly going to be a total unmitigated disaster. It’ll probably be the Fyre Festival of weddings,’ he said. ‘But I’m absolutely sure about one thing: it’s going to happen and be the best day of our lives. Because it’s the day we’ll be getting married. It’s us. And in the end, that’s all that matters.’
‘Exactly, that’s all I want too,’ I said and exhaled. In Matt’s embrace it felt like the couch was the entire universe, where nothing bad could happen, and the only noise in the world was Matt’s low, calm voice.
‘And don’t worry about the toppers or setting up the food tasting or the menus. Don’t think about them again. They’re on my list,’ he said. ‘I’ve got it under control.’
‘That’s an incredibly sexy thing to say,’ I said, smiling. His fingers moved down to my thigh where my work skirt met my bare skin. I shivered as I leaned into him.
‘I’ve got it under control,’ he repeated, but this time more slowly, his eyes twinkling.
Suddenly I forgot about my low blood sugar and the food on the table. I forgot about our imploding wedding and its endless to-do list.
Mum was totally wrong. We weren’t cursed. Every wedding had its hiccups. Sure, maybe we’d had more than the mean. But we were sorting them out – me and Matt – together as a team, as a couple.
My phone pinged and I groaned in a very unsexy way. It was Miranda, my mentor and a senior partner at Stern & Co, the management consultancy firm I worked for.
Good news! You’re on my new case. Kicks off tomorrow!
In our business, client teams were often put together at the last minute after the staffing manager triangulated factors like who was available, who had the necessary expertise and who would rather impale themselves than work together.
Client a giant medical company.
Medical?I quickly tapped back, my empty stomach tightening.
I know you’d asked not to work in this sector, but it’s a one-off. Adrian and Lucas also on team. I’ll email client details / project scope now!
‘I’ve been staffed on a project,’ I told Matt. ‘The next few weeks will be... a lot.’
