I shake my head. ‘It’s not any kind of plan. Believe me, this is the last thing I wanted.’
‘Good.’ He takes a step towards me but I instinctively cringe backwards. He stops where he is and throws his hands up in despair. ‘Okay, I’ll leave. But please don’t shut me out, Alice. You can call me any time, and don’t ignore my messages, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I reply, unsure whether I’ll be able to keep my word on that.
He pauses for a moment and stares at me, trying to convey something with his eyes. But his gaze leaves me cold. He turns and leaves the apartment.
As soon as the front door closes, my legs turn to jelly and I sink down on to the sofa, trembling. This whole situation is so screwed up. I feel as though I’ve stepped into an alternative reality.
My phone! I need to check my photos. I reach forward to snatch it up off the coffee table, the screen still a maze of cracks from when I dropped it on my wedding day. There are several more messages and missed calls from friends and family, but I ignorethem all, going straight to my photo album. Please let my photos show the real Seth. Let this not be down to some terrifying brain condition or breakdown. I need to see a photo of my actual fiancé. An image of the man I love.
I scroll through my photos with trembling fingers, looking for the ones of me and Seth. There are none from the past few months, which is strange because I’m sure I took a few selfies of us when we were looking round the wedding venue. I scroll back further, but can’t seem to find any photographs of us at all. Maybe I’m going too fast. I slow down my search and glance at every single image individually. After several minutes of painstakingly trawling through, I realise there are none of me and Seth. Not one. I’m so confused.
Where on earth have they gone?
Chapter Eleven
As I leave the flat, my nerves are jangling. Why is it so hot out here? This is England, for goodness’ sake, not the South of France. The sun is beating down. There’s no shade at all. I put a hand to the top of my head – boiling. I wish I’d worn a hat. I’d better not get sunstroke.
I stop walking for a moment, place my hands on my hips and try to breathe. Try to gather my thoughts and keep up the positivity I’ve had all week. There’s no reason to lose hope now. All I need to do is get a better handle on what’s going on. I’m pretty certain the wedding’s still off, but I need to make sure it stays cancelled for good or this whole thing will have been for nothing.
And I absolutely can’t have that.
Not after everything I’ve been through.
Chapter Twelve
THEN
I’m normally one of those annoyingly chipper people who loves a Monday morning. Keen to get the day going, fired up by the challenges ahead.
Not today though.
It’s only nine thirty and I’m sitting at my desk having achieved precisely nothing while already contemplating my third coffee of the day.
It took my whole weekend in London to get Seth to forgive me. For him to believe that I truly didn’t mean anything by sending him that photo of Laurence and Martin kissing me on the cheek. I don’t know what I’d been thinking. Actually, I think the point is I wasn’t thinking. I was drunk. I immediately realised how insensitive I’d been and I apologised. But Seth didn’t want to accept my apology straightaway.
He asked what if it had been the other way around. Told me to imagine if I hadn’t been able to make it to London to see him and he’d then sent me a photo of two girls kissing him. When he put it like that, I was mortified. Still, I spent two days grovelling to a very moody fiancé before he finally forgave me. By then, it was Sunday evening, and time to get in the car and drive home. Consequently, today I’m exhausted.
‘Everything all right, Alice?’ Paul asks as he walks past my desk, his grey suit pristine. It’s not a concerned question, more an irritated one. He’s caught me zoning out.
‘Yes, fine, thanks, Paul. Just working out which clients’ accounts take priority today.’
‘Hm, okay.’
My mobile buzzes on my desk and I glance at the screen. Paul follows my gaze and I’m embarrassed to see the florist’s details flash up.
‘Wedding plans?’ Paul asks with a smile, trying to be nice. But I’ve already noticed his jaw tightening and the vein above his left eyebrow beginning to throb.
‘Oh, no, I haven’t started planning yet,’ I lie. ‘This is hopefully a possible new client.’
Paul looks at me over the top of his glasses and I squirm internally. I’m so stupid. It’s obviously a call to do with my wedding. Why didn’t I just admit it? I blame my ill-judged response on a lack of caffeine.
‘Alice, would you mind taking a look at this payroll for Barker and Sons?’
I look up to see Miriam beckoning me over with a sly wink to let me know she’s saving me from my boss’s scrutiny.
I glance back at Paul. ‘I’d better ...’ I gesture to Miriam.
