“See you downstairs!”
I thank her and listen to her footsteps grow quieter as she walks back down the stairs. I sit in my crumpled heap for a couple of minutes, feeling sorry for myself, and then reach for my phone and call Ruby.
“Hey, you okay?” she asks straightaway when she picks up.
“Fine. I just… you know… I’m fine.”
“Oh, Freya,” she says, understanding immediately. “Want us to come pick you up?”
“I’m in Bath.”
“So? There are roads that connect London to Bath, you know.”
I chuckle, wiping my cheek with my palm. “You’re the best. Thanks, but it’s okay. I’m driving back in the morning. It’s really good fun, too. It’s just… you know. It’s a lot.”
“I can imagine.”
“I don’t want to feel like this.”
“I know,” she says in such a gentle tone, it makes my eyes well up again. “You have to allow yourself to mourn it. But it will start getting easier. You have to believe that. Look how far you’ve come already!”
“Niamh said something along those lines to me earlier.”
“She’s a wise one. Is Isabelle having a good time?”
“Yeah, really good.” I take a deep breath. “Right. I should go sort out my makeup before we go. I have to work out a way of not thinking about Matthew tonight.”
“He’s a fuckface. He doesn’t deserve your thoughts.”
“Ruby, if I can barely make it through one hen do without feeling like this,” I begin, closing my eyes in despair and leaning my head back against the door, “then how the hell am I going to survive the Wedding Season?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
On the way to Ruby and Leo’s the following week, I have a very awkward encounter. Thankfully, it’s not Matthew. But it is his best man, Akin.
He’s with his girlfriend, Sarah, and I don’t see them straightaway because I’m walking along with my head down, busy messaging in the group chat to ask if Ruby and Leo want me to pick up anything last minute for dinner. I glance up midtyping to check I’m not about to walk into a lamppost and instead discover I’m about to walk into something—someone—a lot worse.
“Freya! God, hi!” Akin blurts out, as we both stop short of smashing into each other.
I inhale sharply at the sight of them and stop still, fingers poised over my phone. I haven’t seen them since the breakup. I got a really sweet message from Sarah after the event, but nothing from Akin. I found that hurtful, because even though Akin is Matthew’s school friend and best man, I’ve known him for a long time and thought we were close. I appreciate he’s in an awkward position, but come on. He might have checked in, shown some compassion to me and still retained his loyalty to his best friend.
“Hey,” I say, lowering my phone and thanking my lucky stars that I made the effort to put makeup on for a meeting with clients at work this morning.
If I’d bumped into them any other day this week, it would have been another story. Since the breakup, my standards ofwhat is socially acceptable to wear in public have really taken a downturn. In fact, on Sunday, when I got back from the hen do and was hungover and braless, I wandered down to Sainsbury’s wearing pajama shorts and a poncho.
“Hi, Freya.” Sarah smiles at me warmly. “How have you been?”
“Good, thanks. Yeah, great. Really good. What about you?”
“Good, thank you,” she replies, as Akin shifts his weight from one leg to the other, clearly squirming at being in this unfortunate position.
“Great.”
“Are you headed out tonight?” she asks. “You look amazing!”
“Thanks! Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
I decide not to add where I’m going. No harm in providing a bit of mystery. I could be going on a date for all they know! How do you like that, Matthew, huh? I could be on my way to meet an intelligent and funny hunk who owns a castle! Yeah!
