Thirteen Weddings (36 page)

A moment later, he joins me in the kitchen. I almost swear at him. Why doesn’t he just leave me alone?

‘I didn’t know you were coming back to the office this week.’ I manage, with an astounding amount of effort, to keep my voice sounding neutral. ‘Are you back
permanently?’

‘Yeah.’

I don’t look at him as I set about making tea.

‘Hey,’ he says gently, touching his hand to my arm. I snatch it away.

‘Just. Don’t,’ I say through gritted teeth.

He looks anguished. I was hoping to never have to lay eyes on him again. Just then, Russ comes into the kitchen. I hear Alex’s sigh as I hurry up with my task and leave them to it.

Alex sends me an email shortly after I return to my desk.

I stare at my screen in disbelief and then look over the top of my computer, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I angrily tap out a reply.

I watch his jaw twitch as he reads my response, then I see him sigh and start to reply. After a while, I realise he might not be replying to me because he’s taking for ever. I’m
about to get on with my work as I suspect he has done, but then an email from him pings in.

My breath catches as I read that last sentence. I’m too stunned to reply. Another message pings in.

I angrily reply.

I start to smirk to myself as I type that out. I continue:

I almost delete the first part of my email but then think, fuck it, and press send. It gives me great pleasure to see his eyes widen as he reads my message. He stares at his computer screen and
I start to regret being so impulsive. I regret it even more when Simon comes over to speak to him. I type out another message.

I see Alex’s eyes dart to his computer as my message hits his inbox. He has to force himself to concentrate on Simon, but as soon as our boss heads back to his desk, he replies.

My chest tightens. But I’m going to be okay, too. I force myself to think of Lachie as I reply.

It’s a lie, though.

I spend every night that week falling asleep in Lachie’s arms. It helps. The weekend is our last one together, but unfortunately, it’s also my last wedding of the
year that I’m doing with Rachel. I’d rather spend my time with Lachie, but Rachel needs me, and she’s already promised to give me more weddings next year if I want them.

Luckily, the wedding is in Totteridge in north London, so we’re done in time for me to return to Lachie’s pub for last orders. I sit on a stool at the bar and watch him work while
fending off the attentions of a multitude of attractive, flirtatious girls. I’m pretty sure he could have his pick of them. Why does he want me?

I go with him to help him gather empties once the lights in the pub have gone on. The drinkers are slowly dispersing.

‘How was it?’ he asks of the wedding.

‘Fun,’ I reply. ‘Fancy dress.’

‘Really?’ He looks interested.

‘Well, not fully.’ I smile as I tell him about the bride and groom and their guests, who wore full wedding garb from the neck down – a black morning suit for the groom and a
cream-coloured silk skirt and corset for the bride, although later she swapped her long skirt for a shorter one with burnt-cream-coloured ruffles peeking out from underneath. The fancy dress part
came from their hats – the theme was outrageous headgear. The groom wore a Roman centurion helmet with a red Mohawk-style brush spanning from the front of the shiny silver helmet to the back.
As for the bride, she wore a bird’s nest. Yes, really. But it was no ordinary bird’s nest. Hers had two silky-looking magpies sitting on the back of it, looking down at a nest crammed
with glittering jewels. The photos are going to look amazing.

‘Last wedding of the year, right?’ Lachie checks.

‘Yep.’ I smile at him. Needless to say, I don’t think I’ll be invited to Alex’s.

He gives me a tender kiss and we carry the empties back to the bar.

I told him Alex was back at work this week, and while the news put him into a pretty bad mood on Monday night, as the week has progressed, he relaxed.

As have Alex and I. In fact, I even had an amusing conversation with him yesterday about the two charismatic gay guys who are doing the flowers for his wedding. They’re partners at home
and work and their relationship is tumultuous to say the least. Alex wouldn’t be surprised if they fell out and he and Zara ended up with no flowers at all on the day.

‘Time’s up, people,’ Lachie calls to a few stragglers as he wipes down the bar. I wish they’d hurry up and leave. I want to take this gorgeous guy home to bed.

‘You can go, Lachie,’ his boss says to him with a smile. ‘See you on Monday?’

‘Sure thing.’

‘Thanks for all your work.’ They shake hands, warmly. ‘You’ll be missed.’

Tonight was his last shift. He leaves on Tuesday morning, but he’s having a few drinks here on Monday night.

He grabs his chunky black coat from behind the bar and shrugs it on over his red T-shirt. The weather has suddenly become very cold and even his astonishingly warm-blooded body needs proper help
fighting the chill. We walk past a couple of girls who look downcast to see Lachie leaving with me.

‘Looks like you’ve got some admirers there,’ I whisper to him as we step out onto the icy pavement.

He smirks. ‘They’re always in here.’

Hmm. ‘Not tempted?’ I can’t help but ask.

He frowns at me, not dignifying my question with an answer.

‘What do you see in me?’ I ask him outright.

He reels backwards slightly in surprise. ‘You need to ask that?’

‘I’m a bit confused,’ I admit, shivering slightly because it really is freezing cold. He wraps his arm around me.

‘Well, you’re beautiful. And funny. And smart. And really fucking good in bed.’

I whack him on his chest and he laughs and pulls me tighter to him.

‘I’m going to miss you,’ I tell him, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat.

‘I’m going to miss you, too.’ He’s no longer smiling when he kisses the top of my head. ‘But I don’t want it to be goodbye when I go.’

I let his comment rest in my mind. I’ll have plenty of time to ponder the future when he’s gone.

On Monday, Russ is by my desk when Alex walks out of the meeting room.

‘You coming tonight?’ Russ asks him, making me tense up.

Alex’s brow furrows. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Lachie’s leaving drinks.’

‘Oh. I didn’t know he was leaving?’

Russ glances at me, expecting me to elaborate as Lachie’s girl, but I don’t speak so he fills Alex in.

‘Yeah, he’s off travelling for a bit before returning to Australia.’

‘Oh, right.’ Alex nods. ‘Sure. I could come for a couple.’

My heart sinks. I don’t actually want him there, and neither, I imagine, will Lachie. But I can’t very well tell him he’s not welcome in front of Russ. When Russ disappears, I
type Alex an email.

I watch his perplexed expression and then he taps out a reply.

I sigh. Do I really want to go into this? I’m not even sure Alex knows that I’m seeing Lachie.

I feel a little bad when he replies with a simple ‘OK’, but I really don’t think Lachie will be happy to see him, and this is his night.

By sheer coincidence, Alex is leaving work at the same time as Russ and me. Russ is meeting Maria at Lachie’s pub and Rachel and Bridget are also coming. We all walk to
Tottenham Court Road station together. I think Russ assumes Alex is coming with us and they chat amiably about Russ’s current flat hunt. He and Maria are still living with Rachel, but
they’re searching for an apartment to move into together.

‘What about you, mate?’ Russ asks him. ‘How are the wedding plans coming along?’

‘Yeah, it’s all fine,’ Alex replies a touch stiffly, probably because I’m there. ‘Although I kind of wish we’d just done it like you. Zara’s driving me
insane going through all the details every night.’

‘It’ll be worth it,’ Russ tells him as we walk down the stairs into the station. ‘I just hope Maria doesn’t regret not having a big do in the future. She’s
been to so many weddings, she really knew what she wanted.’

‘Your wedding was stunning,’ I chip in. ‘One of the nicest I’ve ever been to.’ Even if it did have its ups and downs.

‘I thought so, too,’ Russ says with a smile.

There are often buskers standing at the bottom of the escalators so I don’t pay any attention to the sound of distant guitar strumming as we pass through the turnstiles. Then I hear his
voice and I let out a little cry of delight.

‘It’s Lachie!’ I squeal.

I step onto the left-hand side of the escalator and crane my neck to try to spot him rather than walking down like I usually would.

‘No way,’ I hear Russ say with a laugh as Lachie comes into view.

He grins widely when he sees me. He’s playing ‘Sympathy for the Devil’ by The Stones and I have to stop myself from laughing. His smile wavers slightly when he sees who’s
behind me, but as his eyes rest on mine again, he perks up again. It would be hard not to – my enthusiasm is surely infectious. I spill off the end of the escalator and he stops playing
mid-way through the song, grinning and swinging his guitar behind him so he can engulf me in a hug. I reach up, take his face in my hands and give him a long kiss smack on the lips.

‘Hello,’ he says warmly, looking down at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask gleefully.

‘One last busking session. Which, coincidentally, happened to be at the station you go home from.’

‘I don’t believe in coincidences,’ I tell him with a grin.

He stares past me. ‘Hey.’ He lets me go to shake Alex and Russ’s hands. I glance over my shoulder to see Alex looking a bit shaken.

‘You coming for a few drinks?’ Lachie asks Alex. I doubt it’s obvious to anyone other than me, but his tone is less warm than usual.

‘I’ve got to head home,’ Alex replies awkwardly.

‘What?’ Russ exclaims, staring at him in confusion. ‘I thought you were coming?’

‘Uh, I can’t.’ He glances at Lachie. ‘I heard you’re leaving tomorrow?’

‘For a bit, yeah, but I’m coming back.’ There’s a definite hardness to his tone.

‘Are you?’ Russ asks him with surprise.

Lachie shrugs. ‘Yeah, for a bit in December.’

‘So are these leaving drinks just another excuse to get hammered?’ Russ asks with a grin.

Lachie rolls his eyes and then smiles down at me. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Yes.’

I step away from him as he collects the coins from his guitar case and packs his guitar away. ‘See you tomorrow, then,’ Alex says to Russ and me.

‘Yep. Bye,’ I reply curtly. I swear he looks a little pale as he walks away.

A lot of people turn up for Lachie’s farewell drinks – I never knew he had so many friends. It hurts to think of the time we’ve wasted not getting to know
each other when we had the chance. I’m also sorry that he felt he had to withdraw from my friends and me after Spain. There are so many things I wish I could change.

I’ll have him to myself tonight, so I retreat a bit and let him enjoy the company of his mates – and an unsurprising number of females.

‘Are you going to miss him?’ Bridget asks me as we sit at the bar.

‘Yes,’ I reply dejectedly.

‘What’s going to happen now?’ she asks, giving me a significant look.

‘I don’t know,’ I murmur.

‘Do you think he’ll come back over to England?’

‘I’m not sure he can,’ I reply as I watch him huddle close to his mates and laugh at something one of them has said. ‘He had a one-year visa. And I know he misses home
and his family.’

‘Would you go back?’ she asks probingly.

My response is automatic. ‘Not now that I’ve got a promotion. Anyway,’ I wave her away. ‘We’ve only just got together. It’s too soon to be making plans about
the future.’

She cocks her head to one side, thoughtfully, but she doesn’t pry any further. I’m relieved.

Our lovemaking that night is sweeter than ever before, but no matter how tired I am, I can’t fall asleep in his arms. Eventually I leave him in the bed and go out into
the deserted living room. It’s freezing cold, and I’m shivering as I sit down on the sofa. Lachie’s guitar case is propped up against the wall, where he left it before we went to
the pub. I sit in the darkness and let the tears slide down my cheeks, too miserable to wipe them away. The rational part of my brain tells me to go back to Lachie in the nice warm bed, but
it’s only a whisper inside my head. The more dominant part tells me firmly to stay where I am in the cold. That part wants to punish me for daring to fall in love. Love? Who am I in love
with?

His face is lit by sunlight pouring in through a crack in the curtains. I prop myself up on my elbow and watch the whizzing, circling, silvery flecks of dust caught in the
bright shaft of light.