“Marnie, you can’t get bored of Attenborough. That’s sacrilege.”
“You and Brian should start a fan club.” Marnie puts her phone back in her pocket. “I think Brian’s going to propose to me when we get back.”
“Really?”
“Well, he’s been acting weird about his bedside table. Like, he won’t let me clean it, and he starts sweating if I go near it. And about a month ago, he said his friend Dan was thinking about proposing and asked if I would look at some options for rings to help him choose.”
“So?”
“So, Dan is already married.”
“Oh, Brian.” I shake my head. Tears prick my eyes. “Marnie. That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”
Marnie sits back with a quiet smile. “It is, isn’t it?”
“I did wonder sometimes…”
“…why it’s taken him so bloody long?”
“You’ve been together, what, nine years?”
“Ten, actually. First man I dated out of university. And here we are.”
The breeze ruffles the pompom on the top of Marnie’s beanie, which is traffic-light red and has a picture of a strawberry on the back. On the front it readsJuicy. A true Rowan original. I knitted it shortly after I got back, and Marnie insisted on buying it off me. She wears it all year round, even when it’s too hot.
Think of what this will be worth one day!she says.When you’re a hotshot designer and the waiting list for your stuff is a gazillion years long.
As always, Marnie has more faith in me than I do in myself.
“I think,” she says slowly, “he was waiting to feel ready. He’s always been scared of the next step, and he had some things he wanted to work out – mentally – before he could. And now he has, and he can.” Marnie pauses. “A bit like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m your best friend, Rowan. I know when you're pining for someone.”
I stare at my mug. I’ve been trying so hard to keep it hidden, but every step of the walk reminds me of Angus.
Angus grumpy. Angus smiling. Angus’ careful, clever hands helping me with my tent. The low rumble of his voice. His dark, flashing eyes. The way he makes his coffee in the morning, precise, not a movement wasted. The surprising beauty of his singing. His quiet, unshakeable kindness.
We parted so badly, and he said such cruel things, and yet I still think about him every day. Wonder what he is doing. Who he's with. Where he is.
If I’m ever on his mind, the way he lives in mine.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to me.”
“I miss him.” I sigh. “Like, all the time. Isn’t that stupid? We only knew each other for seven days, and he’s still the first thing I think about when I wake up every morning. I’ve tried going on dates with other men, and telling myself that I’m better off without him, but…”
“It’s not the same?”
I shake my head. “Not even close.”
With Angus, every touch was electric. Like I was metal, and he was lightning, and even the merest brush of his lips was enough to set my entire body to thrumming. Even now, if I close my eyes and imagine it hard enough, I can feel the pressure of his kiss.
“Do you think you can fall in love with someone that fast?”
“Do you think you’re in love with him?”
