A Christmas Wedding(24)

It’s lunchtime and it’s busy, the usual charity workers out in force as they call out to anyone who might have a minute. I look into the windows of shops without really seeing the contents, and, before I know it, I’m heading towards the market and the church where Alex married Zara.

There are buskers performing outside – two jugglers on unicycles – but I ignore their antics and pass by into the churchyard, coming to an abrupt stop outside the alleyway where best man Ed tried to urge Alex down the aisle.

I drag my eyes away and walk up the steps to the front door.

St Paul’s in Covent Garden is a beautiful church – it’s known as the Actors’ Church, its connection to the theatre illustrated by memorials to famous actors and actresses along the walls. My eyes drift up the aisle as I picture the sea of red winter berries and dark-red roses flanked by green pine hanging from the ends of pews. Up at the altar, I can still see the dozens of pillar candles in tall clear vases, burning and flickering.

It should have been a beautiful wedding.

I sink down onto one of the pews and think back to the way his dark-blue eyes seemed to sear into my soul as I waited to photograph his reaction to seeing Zara in her wedding dress.

It hurt so much.

I loved him. A part of me still does, even now.

I feel wrong for even thinking that, considering how raw I am about Lachie, but I haven’t managed to close the door on the past.

Bridget is right. I did think Alex was my soulmate. But it clearly wasn’t meant to be. Every time fate has thrown him into my life, the timing has been terribly wrong.

I met him at Polly’s hen night, when I was only in the UK for a fortnight from Australia.

I saw him on the escalators going up when I was heading down, and, even though he didn’t wait for me, our lives collided again that same morning when we discovered we were working together. He was already engaged to Zara.

And then everything with Zara came crashing down and Alex finally declared his love for me but, by then, Lachie was embedded in my life.

Now I’m single. Is he?

The timing is still wrong. I know this. I’ve just broken up with Lachie and I’m nowhere near over him.

But still…

I never did get that closure. My meeting with Alex in Sydney was too brief, too unfulfilling. Am I really going to walk away from another opportunity to lay the past to rest?

I pull out the card that’s been burning a hole in my bag and scan the address. I could call him, of course, but where’s the fun in that?

With my heels clicking over the cobblestones, I head towards the Tube station.

Time to kick fate in the balls and take matters into my own hands.

Alex’s new office block is in a quiet side street off Camden’s hectic market centre. My heart is pounding in my chest as I walk up the stairs and pull on the glass door.

It doesn’t budge.

My eyes drift to the intercom. Damn! So much for turning up unannounced. I take a deep breath and press the buzzer.

‘Hello?’ a male voice answers.

‘Is Alex there?’ I ask.

‘He’s just popped out. Is he expecting you?’

‘Er, no.’

‘Can I ask your name?’

I hesitate, my finger on the button.

‘Bronte?’

My heart leaps into my throat as I spin around, coming face to face with Alex.

His eyes are wide, even more blue than usual, it seems.

‘What are you doing here?’ He looks shocked. He’s holding two takeaway coffee mugs nestled into a single cardboard tray.

‘I’ve just been to see Simon. He gave me your card.’

‘So you thought you’d drop by and give me a heart attack?’

‘Figured it was payback time,’ I say with a smile that belies how on edge I’m feeling.

‘I gave you three weeks’ notice,’ he says weakly, his lips tilting up with the faintest traces of amusement as he joins me on the top step and presses the intercom with his free left hand.

The crackly voice comes over the speakerphone again. ‘Hello? Sorry, what was your name?’

‘It’s all right, Neal, I’ve got her,’ Alex speaks into the receiver. ‘Can you buzz us in?’ He drops his hand and pulls the door open when it clicks. ‘My partner,’ he explains, holding the door back for me. ‘You coming in?’

‘If I’m allowed.’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, I just wish you’d called: I would’ve got another coffee.’

‘I prefer tea, anyway.’

He flashes me a proper smile and presses the button for the lift. ‘We’re on the top floor.’

‘When did you decide to start your own business?’ I ask as the doors close behind us. I decide to try breathing through my mouth.

‘I’ve always wanted to,’ he says. ‘But it’s hard to turn away a decent salary.’

‘How’s it going?’

‘Really well.’ He nods. ‘Better than I could’ve hoped, to be honest.’

His black hair is shorter on top now, but a bit longer all over, curling at the nape of his neck. It’s a little scruffy, but it suits him.

‘What made you decide to leave Tetlan?’ I ask.

‘Nothing bad. I just felt like something needed to change. I’d been a bit stuck in a rut.’