Nigel smiles, like he’s amused by her sudden flustering. “Sure, if you want to.”
“Tell us what?”
Jools turns to face me, taking both my hands in hers. She looks beautiful as always, with her pebble-smooth skin and her mermaid’s hair catching and lifting in the sea breeze. She glances at Nigel again. “I’m sorry, I know we said we’d do it over lunch, but... I can’t hold it in anymore.”
“Jools!” I exclaim, laughing with frustration and anticipation.
She releases my hands, then moves over to Nigel. She slings an arm around his waist, takes a breath, and looks up at him. Above our heads, the sun brightens suddenly as it evades a cloud, as if to gild her announcement. “We’re getting married.”
I gasp. My knees threaten to fold with surprise and delight. By my side, I feel Caleb grab my hand.
“We know it’s quick,” Nigel says, looking down at his wife-to-be. It was their one-year anniversary this week, just a couple of weeks after our own. “But—”
“—when you know, you know,” Jools says, beaming.
I throw my arms around her so I can squeeze her as tightly as humanly possible, then I do the same with Nigel. He and Caleb man-hug, then we all come together as a foursome, our arms around one another. I feel as though my heart’s just been torpedoed, but in the best way ever.
Jools is totally right. When you know, you know.
Go
“Your poor flat,” I say to Max, standing back to survey the mound of boxes we’ve just finished lugging in from the van—a mismatched jumble of supermarket cardboard that once held crisps, nappies, cereals, orange juice. There are a couple of vast IKEA bags too, plus several stuffed black bin bags. I look as though I’m en route to a car boot sale, not moving into the world’s most beautiful flat.
“It’s all right,” Max says, deadpan, rubbing his chin. “I mean, I presume you’ll be unpacking at some point?”
I laugh. “The stuff inside them isn’t much better, believe me.”
He sneaks up behind me, slipping both arms around my waist. “Is this why you put off moving in for so long? You thought I’d stuff-shame you?”
Yes and no, I think, even though I know he’s only joking. It’s May now—six months since Max first suggested I move in. At first, I mainly felt bad for Jools—after all, we’d only been living together for seven months, and I was already considering shacking up with my new boyfriend. It felt weirdly unsisterly, though of course Jools never made me feel that way. And so I sat down and had a word with myself, tried to dig down into why I wasreallyfeeling hesitant—and I realized that in the back of my mind, perhaps it still just felt too soon. Max was the man I loved most in the world—but he was also the person who’d betrayed me in the worst possible way.
Since getting back together, things between us have been good—no, better than good. We spend most evenings eating out, or at the theater, or going to gigs, or having supper with friends. I’ve met Max’s colleagues from HWW. We’ve become close with Dean and his wife Chrissy. From the outside looking in, our relationship couldn’t be better.
And yet. As I considered moving in, a tiny note of doubt still occasionally sounded in the back of my mind, telling me to give it a bit more time. Subconsciously, I was probably half waiting for a tidal wave of secondary emotions to hit at some point, and I wanted that to happen before I moved in, not after.
But actually, it never has. So, last month, I told Max I was ready.
“Fill this flat with whatever you like,” Max whispers into my ear now. “I couldn’t care less. The only thing I care about is that you’re here.”
I can’t resist. “But what will your interior designer say?”
He laughs. “I should think he’d be thrilled for me, if I’m honest. I could tell he thought the whole bachelor pad thing was a bit tragic.”
I smile. “Have you made space in the wardrobe?”
“Of course. A full half is now yours.”
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
Max takes my hand and pulls me down onto the sofa next to him. His expression is soft and keen, his marl-gray eyes seeming to search my face for something. “Luce, in all seriousness, I want you to know... this place is yours as much as it is mine. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re... staying with me.”
I press my lips together and nod. Momentarily, I am transported back to our student years, when we’d sit together on various decrepit sofas and talk for hours about our feelings and the future, the life we had ahead of us. “God, I used to dream of this day when we were at uni.”
He nods too. “Yeah.”
“Not so much our first move to London... but more what we’re doing now. With proper careers, and good friends, and an idea of where we’re headed in life, you know?”
Max hesitates for a second or two, then lifts one hand to brush the hair from my face. “Can I ask you something?”
