Alex and I met about six years ago at an eighties club night in London – he was on a stag do and I was on my Aussie friend Polly’s hen night. We ended up talking and bonding over the course of the evening and he confided that he’d recently broken up with his long-term girlfriend, Zara – or, technically,she’dbroken up withhim, labelling it ‘a break’. Later, he walked me back to my hotel and we spent the night together. It all happened so fast, but it didn’t feel that way at the time. Ireallyliked him, way more than I could’ve thought possible, considering we’d only met earlier that night, and the feeling seemed mutual.
So we both felt torn and confused the next morning when Zara texted and asked to meet him for lunch, claiming that she’d made a mistake. I was only in the UK for a couple of weeks for Polly’s wedding, so the smart option seemed to be saying goodbye and going our separate ways, but it hurt.
A year and a half later, I went back to the UK, this time on a one-year work visa. I’d landed a job atHebe, the aforementioned magazine. To say I was shocked when Alex turned out to be the new Art Director is an understatement. I was thrown to discover he was engaged to his former ex and set to marry her later that year. We formed a tentative friendship, but the chemistry between us intensified until it became overwhelming and he stepped right back. He didn’t want to leave Zara, whom he’d been with for a decade. They had a shared history that felt too hard to walk away from.
Now Alex and I have history, too. Whether or not we still have chemistry doesn’t bear thinking about.
‘Hello?’ Bridget’s tinny voice comes down the receiver.
‘Bridget!’ I cry, relieved that she answered.
‘Bronte!’ she cries in return. ‘I was just about to call you, IpromiseI was!’
‘Why?’ I ask, confused at her slightly panicked, slightly guilty tone.
‘Has Elliot not told you?’ she replies.
‘Told me what?’
‘Oh! I thought that was why you were calling!’
‘Bridget!’ I exclaim. ‘What’s going on?!’
I hear her inhale quickly and let her breath out in a rush, while I wait for her to speak.
‘I’m getting married.’
I almost fall off the sofa. ‘What?’
‘I’m engaged. Charlie proposed to me. I’m getting married,’ she repeats. And then she bursts out laughing.
‘What?How?’ I ask with surprise. ‘When?’
‘Next summer.’
‘No, I mean, when did he propose?’
‘Two days ago,’ she replies. I can’t see her face, but I know that she’s beaming from ear to ear.
‘Wow.’ I’m astonished. She and Charlie met a year or so ago and have only been a proper couple for half that time. ‘That was quick!’
‘I know,’ she replies, her enthusiasm dampened slightly by my reaction. ‘But when you know, you know.’
‘And you know?’ I ask weakly.
‘I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life,’ she states calmly but firmly.
A belated bubble of excitement bursts inside me and I let out a squeal. She cracks up laughing again, relieved that I’m finally responding appropriately.
‘I thought Elliot must’ve told you!’
Realisation dawns on me. ‘He’s out with Lachie. Lachie said he seemed pretty down. Is that why?’
‘Yeah, I called him earlier.’ Her tone becomes subdued.
‘He didn’t take it well?’
‘No. He was knocked for six.’
