“You see, that is weird to me. What’s the point in going to all that effort if you can’t eat it yourself?”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Oh, I don’t know, because it’s nice to make things for other people to enjoy? Maybe your brain really does need to be reprogrammed.”
I roll my eyes.
He nods toward Freddie twirling Niamh round the dance floor as the other guests, including Ryan and Isabelle, circle them, cheering. “Does all this bother you?”
“Dancing? Only if people click their fingers at the same time. I really hate that.”
“Not dancing,” he says, laughing. “I meant weddings. They’ve got to be hard to sit through.”
I hesitate, but decide I want to answer truthfully. “At first, I was terrified. I wanted to be there for my friends’ big days, but I also dreaded it, because I thought it would be a constant reminder of what had happened—or not happened—to me. But, even though I’ve had my moments, it hasn’t been as bad as I thought. Weddings are such happy occasions. It’s hard to be gloomy when everyone around you is so full of…”
I trail off.
“Love?” Jamie suggests.
“Right. Love.” I watch Niamh wrap her arms around Freddie’s neck and kiss him. “Plus, my friends have been amazing at making sure I didn’t fall apart at all the weddings this summer.”
“Oh yeah? They rallied, did they?”
“They did. They created a—”
I stop myself. This is what’s so annoying about Jamie. When I think about our conversations, I’m amazed at how much I’ve spilled about my life. I barely know him, I literally met him justa few weeks ago and already he’s heard about my failed engagement, my disastrous relationship with my mother, and my dad’s pond ambitions. I honestly had no idea until this summer that I was such a blabbermouth. Didn’t Matthew break up with me because I was the opposite?
“Yes?” Jamie prompts, intrigued. “What did your friends create?”
“Nothing,” I say, brushing off his question with a wave of my hand.
“No, come on.” He grins, leaning closer toward me. “What were you about to say? I can tell it was something good. You have that twinkle in your eye.”
“I donothave a twinkle in my eye.”
“Yes, you do. Just like Father Christmas in that poem.”
“What poem?”
“‘’ Twas the Night Before Christmas.’ There’s a bit that goes ‘his eyes, how they twinkled.’ That’s you right now, a cheeky, knowing twinkle. Spill your secret, Freya Scott.”
“You have to promise not to laugh.”
“Can’t promise that.”
“And you can’t take the piss.”
“Again, that will probably be an issue.”
“Fine.” I sigh. Here goes nothing. “They created a survival guide for the Wedding Season.”
He blinks at me. “Explain.”
“The Wedding Season. Everyone has one, right? Especially in your thirties.”
“That bit I did understand.”
“So, my best friends, Ruby and Leo, thought it might be a good idea if they set out a task list. For every wedding I attended, there would be a challenge to complete. That way, instead of thinking of Matthew at each event, I’d be focused on the challenge. It’s kind of like a survival guide.”
“Okay.” He nods thoughtfully, crossing his arms. “I like it. What sort of challenges were on the table?”
