Page 57 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘God, Alex. I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I was acting totally normal?’
‘Yeah,’ he said with a shrug, though a slight edge had crept back into his voice. ‘You were shocked when I proposed, but then you seemed excited. We both were. We celebrated with champagne and dancing. And then you were tired, so I walked you back to your room. I left you sleeping. I was too wired to rest and needed to pack, so I went back to my room. And then when I returned in the morning... you’d gone.’ His voice cracked.
A memory of the day after the ball surfaced from the recesses of my mind. I hadn’t noticed that I was wearing a ring until I was on the plane home. Had I clocked that it had been on my left ring finger? No, I couldn’t have. I’d borrowed my jewellery for the ball from Lily’s enormous collection – I’d probably assumed it was one of hers, which I hadn’t had a chance to return before I’d left the country.
‘Did you give me a ring that night?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It was a ring that had belonged to Mum. She never had an engagement ring, but she wore it a lot. It wasn’t valuable it was just...’
He didn’t finish the sentence. I could tell he didn’t want to make me feel bad for losing something of his mum’s that had sentimental value. I swallowed. So, he’d asked me to move to America with him and proposed with his beloved mum’s ring. And my brain had done the mental equivalent of the circle of death, like when my work computer ran out of hard-drive space.
But what had he been thinking? We’d known each other for two months. I was twenty-four – who got married at twenty-four?
Except part of me knew exactly what his thought pattern would have been – we loved each other, so why wait? I knew that Alex was the kind of guy who’d love a few things in his life and devote himself single-mindedly to them. And if he wanted us to be together, and the US would have granted me working rights if we’d been married, this would have been a logical next step. If I was happy to move to London and look for work, why not do the same in Boston? I could imagine that he’d have thought that there’d be even more opportunities for me in the US than the UK, that I might be thrilled.
‘If you thought we were engaged, that we were going to get married, that I was going to move with you’ – I could hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth – ‘why didn’t you reach out to me?’
‘I did try,’ he said. ‘But you’d left the country by the time I realised anything was wrong. And I’m guessing you either blocked my number or changed yours when you arrived in Australia.’
Dad, with typical efficiency, had booked me on one of the first flights out of Heathrow after he’d received my email. I’d only had time to throw on a tracksuit, return my room key and zip upmy bags before I’d needed to catch the bus to the airport. When I’d left, there were still people in ballgowns and suits eating breakfast and taking survivors’ photos.
‘I only had your uni email address. I did sign up to Facebook and message you. But you rejected my request. And I was... heartbroken.’ His voice cracked. ‘I thought that we’d just had this magical night and were going to go on this adventure and spend the rest of our lives together. And the next minute I find out from your porter that you’ve left the college.
‘I thought you’d ghosted me,’ he said. ‘I... went to a dark place after you left.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘What happened, what I’dthoughthappened... it reopened a wound that had never really healed.’
‘I know,’ he said, gently. ‘I’m really sorry I made you feel like that.’
‘I’m sorry I made you feel like that too,’ I said.
A woman holding a baby Arlo’s age walked past us, an apologetic look on her face, as if she instinctively knew that she was interrupting something charged. We waited for the front gate to click behind her in thick silence.
He moved towards me. I took a step back.
‘When I saw you in that meeting room I wondered, just for a minute, if it wasn’t a coincidence,’ I said. ‘But then I thought – stop being so self-involved. Of course he’s not here because of you. It was one summer, a million years ago.’ I stared at him, refusing to break eye contact, even though I desperately wanted to.
‘I had a lot of offers for my work,’ he said. ‘And when I got one, a competitive one, from a company based in Melbourne... I thought it was a sign.’
Since when did Alex Lawson believe in signs? Maybe when I’d started to believe in curses.
‘And is it a coincidence that I’m on this project?’
My heart sank as I read his face.
‘They were always going to hire consultants,’ he said. ‘I made sure you were one of them.’
He took a deep breath and I held mine.
‘I still love you,’ he said. ‘I’ve never stopped. I just made myself so busy, for so long, that I didn’t have to think about it. But then I sold my company and finally, for the first time, had space in my life. And I realised that what I felt for you never went away. I’ve never met anyone else like you. It’s always been you.’
‘I’m getting married in a month,’ I finally replied.
‘I know. I mean I didn’t know when I decided to move here. But I know now,’ he said. ‘And if you tell me to back off, I will. I’ll try and stay out of your way at work. And leave you alone otherwise.’
I took another step back. I was now backed up against the red-brick wall next to the front door.
I’d spent nearly a decade thinking that he’d been selfish and heartless. A door in my heart had swung shut when Mum left, and Alex had managed to find the crack that was still ajar and open it again. But when we’d broken up so abruptly it had slammed back shut. After Alex had left, I’d vowed to be governed by reason, not passion. It had felt like a rock-solid foundation for life, but suddenly everything felt more like quicksand.
