There was a little laughter at this.
Shoulders slumped, and with one last apologetic look toward Sarah, Ben limped with his daughter through the curtain.
Alone now, I finally faced my friends.
“Evie,” said Maria. “How could you?”
“I’m sorry,” I began. I’d ruined things for Sarah. Again. My friends deserved an explanation. And yet I couldn’t help looking to where Ben and Anette had disappeared.
“Grovel later,” Jeremy told me. “Go get him now.”
I met Sarah’s eyes, then Maria’s. Jeremy held the curtain back and, hoping Sarah and Maria would forgive me, I gave him a grateful smile and dashed past before anyone could say another word.
Ben and Anette were halfway down the hall, heading for the foyer. “Ben, wait.”
He didn’t slow. I hurried to catch up with them. “This was a mistake,” he said, without turning. “We shouldn’t have come.” My stomach twisted. Anette tugged at his hand.
“Was all of today a mistake?” I asked.
Ben stopped at the double doors, head bowed. Anette looked up at him. “I shouldn’t have agreed to be Sarah’s photographer,” he said.
“Why not?” I demanded.
“Because. Life made sense before we met you, Evie. We were doing just great until you came along.”
“Dad,” said Anette.
He pushed through the door. That is it. I stormed after them into the foyer.
“You should still be a photographer, Ben,” I shouted after him. A staff member behind the front desk put his finger on his lips, and I lowered my voice. “I thought that working this wedding might help you get back to doing what you love. I just wanted to help.”
Ben signed something to Anette. She signed furiously back, but her dad simply gestured to the doors we’d just come through. She jutted her chin before heading back through them, the music briefly pulsing into the foyer as they closed behind her.
“You don’t get to interfere in people’s lives like that, Evie.”
He still wouldn’t face me, so I stood in front of him, my arms folded. “You want to talk about interfering? That fight back there? Trying to get NOB to apologize? And what about the balloons? Sarah’s hen do? I don’t need you to keep rescuing me, Ben.”
“You could have fooled me. Maybe if you weren’t so busy attempting to meet a man you don’t actually have any interest in dating, you’d have time to focus on more important things.”
I blushed furiously, raising my voice. “What is it that bothers you so much about these meet-cutes, Ben? At least I’m doing something with my life. You’re stuck in a rut. Going to Gil’s every single Sunday. Telling yourself that you’re no longer a photographer when you so clearly are. And you know what else you are? You’re a coward, Ben. You aren’t willing to take a chance on something you love, even when it’s right there in front of you.”
I saw the rapid rise and fall of Ben’s chest and he took a step closer to me. “Something I love?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” I replied, flustered.
“Evie?” It was Maria, the anger cooling on her face when she saw us standing there together.
Anette followed behind her, dragging a bag. “I got your camera stuff, Dad.” When Ben didn’t answer, she did the okay sign. He shook himself and went to meet her, shouldering the bag and taking her hand.
They reached the main doors and, just for a moment, Ben hesitated, as though he might say something, before pushing through them and out into the night.
I felt a warm hand on my arm.
Maria. But I couldn’t face her right now.
“Come back inside,” she said.
“I can’t. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I ruined everything.” I wiped my eyes and backed away. “Enjoy the rest of the evening. I love you. Please just tell everyone . . . If they ask, tell everyone I’m sorry.”
Chapter 38
JEMS
INT: EVIE’S CHILDHOOD BEDROOM—SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 7:23 P.M.
EVIE is burrowed deep in her duvet in a small single bed, working on her laptop. She’s surrounded by tissues. She keeps checking her phone, then putting it back down again. There’s a knock on the door and EVIE’s mother enters, holding a tray with a pot of tea and some jam on toast.
I gave my mum a watery smile as she entered, but kept my swollen eyes on the screen so I could finish ordering the removal van. I’d already let Jane know I was moving out at the end of the month. She’d offered to let me pay her next month’s rent once I got a new job, but I was no longer sure what I wanted. Welcome to rock bottom, Evie.
My mum settled the tray down on my old bedside table.
“I’ve brought you a snack,” she said. “And some tea.” She poured some for us both, then plonked the plate in my lap and handed me the cup, forcing me to sit up. “I think you should try speaking to your friends,” she told me.
I sighed, biting into the toast. My stomach growled and I realized it was the first thing I’d eaten all day. I devoured the whole piece.
“They aren’t talking to me. Mum, I ruined Sarah’s wedding, and I lied to them about NOB.” I’d told my mum everything, and had to practically confiscate her bus pass to prevent her from going to find him. “Sarah barely forgave me for her hen do. They’ll never forgive me for this. I don’t deserve it.”
“Are you sure?” my mum asked, ever the optimist. She busied herself with getting my jumper and jeans out of my case and laying them out on the bed. As if this would somehow encourage me to change out of my pajamas.
Today was the first day since I’d moved to London that the JEMS group chat had been silent. “I’m sure,” I said, tearing the second piece of toast in two. My mum put a bra and my brush on the little pile on my bed, glanced over at me, then added some deodorant and a toothbrush.
“I really think you should at least try to speak to them. After all, it would be rude to leave them waiting.”
It took me a few seconds to register what she’d just said. “What?” I asked.
“Especially when they’ve all made such an effort to be here,” my mum said.
I scrambled up, grabbing my clothes. “Mum!”
* * *
I entered the living room to find my friends all squeezed onto my mum’s squashy two-seater sofa, holding cups of tea.
“Hi,” I said, trying a smile. Sarah was in the middle, somehow retaining her bridal glow in a smart shirt with faded jeans. Jeremy nodded at me. I couldn’t read Maria’s expression.