Page 26 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘No . . . thanks . . . I don’t want to see it.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.’

If ever, she wanted to add.

Maggie still felt like she was on the edge of a big dark hole whenever his name was mentioned, one she could so easily slip into, and she hated herself for it. It was a strange, breathless, disoriented feeling. She felt so weak. So pathetic. She’d come here to face her fears and yet just thinking about it left her feeling panicky and unbalanced.

She sipped some water and stared out across the view of the Mediterranean, forcing herself to regain her balance. Refusing to fall again into that hole.

‘I’ve got a photo of me taken here when I’m nineteen,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘I can still see it now. I’m wearing cut-off denim shorts, not unlike yours, a bikini top and red Converse. I had to borrow a long dress to go into the chapel. George started crying over Grace Kelly’s grave.’

‘Started crying? Why?’

‘George is like that. He cries at everything.’ She smiled, fondly. ‘He once cried over my haircut. I chopped all my hair off and dyed it purple. When I got home to the flat, he took one look at me and started bawling like a baby.’

‘I can’t imagine you ever having purple hair.’

‘I wasn’t always this age, you know. In fact, I wasn’t much younger than you are now.’

Their conversation was interrupted by Flick’s phone beeping up a message. Maggie watched her glance at her screen and bite her lip.

‘Is everything OK?’

‘Oh, yes, it’s nothing. It’s my boyfriend, Rory.’

‘I see.’ Maggie nodded. Though she didn’t really. Still, she didn’t want to interfere. She looked at Flick; she was still squinting at her screen, her face troubled.

‘Is it serious?’

‘We’ve been together since we were at school; we’ve talked about moving in together, getting engaged—’ She broke off when she saw Maggie’s expression and realized she’d misunderstood. ‘Oh, I thought you meant the relationship.’ Her face coloured. ‘No, it’s nothing, he’s just checking in, you know.’

Maggie sensed something was up.

‘And you don’t want to?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Well, no need to rush; you’ve got plenty of time.’

Flick knew Maggie was right. There was no need to rush. And yet, was she unsure or was she stalling? Surely she should know by now? She was constantly seeing photos of friends showing off engagement rings on their socials, grinning proudly into the camera with a new Shellac manicure and a diamond solitaire. Always liking the posts and adding the required comment of Congratulations! plus several love hearts and a party popper emoji.

Privately, she would wonder if there was an emoji for the sense of claustrophobia she always felt when she saw those posts. The feeling of being trapped. Of her future being all mapped out. Engaged. Married. Kids. Rest-of-your-life stuff. It was terrifying. And yet no one else looked terrified; they looked over the moon. Which was even scarier.

She looked back at the text on her phone.

How’s the conference? Miss me already?

She deliberated, she didn’t want to lie any further, but she’d dug herself into a hole. And in more ways than one.

Boring

She typed back and added a love heart emoji. Rory loved emojis. Sometimes she thought Rory might love emojis more than her. After a moment’s deliberation she added a few more love hearts in various rainbow colours just for good measure.

‘OK, so what’s the plan? Do you know where He is right now?’

Maggie’s voice broke into Flick’s thoughts, and she snapped back.

‘He’s here in Monte Carlo. He posted a photo of himself standing next to a Ferrari and overlooking the port with the hashtag #montecarlovibes.’ Flick pulled a face.

‘Who’s he with?’