Whit shakes her head. ‘Production got a bit weird about it.’
Whit’s mum’s posture stiffens. ‘The wankers. Here, let me go take some good pictures of Dolly in her dress for her mum.’
Whit’s mum gets up, and I see Whit spot me out of the corner of her eye, a flash of panic as she realises I might have overheard what I suspect is a secret.
It’s not something Dolly trusted me with herself.
I get up and walk quickly to the bathroom.
Responsibilities. That’s what Dolly had said, hadn’t she? That was why she was here. It wasn’t just wanting a good cover story for why we couldn’t be together. She wasn’t just rejecting me for her career; she was rejecting me for her mum. This whole time I just thought the worst of her, when she was trying to support her family.
I pushed her and I pushed her and I was so fucking set thatof courseshe couldn’t trust me with the truth of her family life. But Whit can’t know her almost marriage is fake. It was smart of Dolly to give people only half the story.
I can barely look my mirror self in the eye. I take big gulps of the metallic too-warm tap water, and try not to cry again.
I’ve spent all this time trying to be a version of me that I don’t even recognise. The only person who could break through and show me who I am is Dolly. She saw through all my masks; autistic and straight and all the other parts of me I was squashing down. She saw me. And I didn’t take the time to see her.
God, I’m such a fucking idiot.
I’ve pushed her away.
I’ve ignored all the warning signs with Patrick, even though I adore him.
And now I’m crying in a bridal shop, realising I might have fucked up my life.
Chapter Thirty-TwoDolly
Excerpt from podcast Rox’ Docs, interview between Dawson Roxford and Cobey Worthing
ROX If you could say one thing to Lina, what would it be? Cobey?
COBEY Sorry, I have to go.
ROX What? He’s gone? Listeners, he’s gone.
If there had been any doubts the show was running on a scant budget, the biggest sign should have been the joint stag and hen party that we couldn’t even invite our friends to. Though, fuck knows who I’d invite at this point. Feels like all my friends are in this room with me.
And enemies, let’s be real.
I know it’s customary for the show to get us all loose on booze and bring in the singletons from the warehouse at some point, but I didn’t think they’d do thatnowwhen we’re about to get married. The showrunner chose violence, because I find myself on my hen do sipping on a very badly made margarita with Whit who is practically vibrating watching Malachi talk to Priya across the room.
‘Come on, you’re going to spill your frozen daiquiri.’ I take it and set it on the bar top.
‘No, don’t take that from me. I need it.’ Whit slurps the straw into her mouth, and takes a big hit. ‘Oh tits, I’ve got sodding brain freeze.’
‘Tongue to the roof of your mouth,’ I tell her, as she rubs her forehead.
‘This is the worst day ever,’ she says thicky through a pressed tongue.
‘You just tried on your wedding dress with your mum, and it’s the worst day?’
Whit looks at me with sad eyes.
‘Don’t you dare feel guilty because mine wasn’t there. We’re not talking about that,’ I say firmly.
‘I said nothing.’
‘You trust him,’ I say, knowing I don’t need to ask it as a question. ‘He had a connection with Priya and hasn’t seen her in real life before. He’s just catching up with her. You’ve got to let it happen or it’ll just be super weird and become A Thing.’
