Before I Do(30)

“No one gets quality time with the bride on her wedding day,” said Clara, sitting back down and hugging her arms against her chest. “Everyone knows that.”

Audrey’s head was beginning to spin with all this attention, all these questions. Why hadn’t she stayed in her room? Why had she come to breakfast with her hair a mess? Why hadn’t she tied her dress up properly? Crucially, why wasn’t she allowed coffee?

“I bet you wish you’d gone for room service,” Fred said, leaning toward her, reading her mind. She looked sideways at him and instantly regretted it. His green eyes cut through all the noise. There was something about Fred’s face. She pushed back her chair and stood up.

“You’ll have to excuse me, I have a . . . a thing,” she announced to the table. Then she walked over to the breakfast bar, picked up two croissants and a pot of coffee, and walked purposefully back toward the door.

Except she didn’t want to go back to her room. People could find her there. The laminated timetable of hair and makeup and “getting-ready photos” would begin, and then there wouldn’t be a minute left to be alone, to think. So instead of going upstairs, she kept going, down a small corridor that led through the bowels of the old house. She needed a quiet room, somewhere no one would look for her, just for twenty minutes. After opening several old wooden doors, she found what she was looking for: a small, cozy-looking cleaning cupboard, full of linen and towels, a vacuum cleaner, a mop bucket, huge bags of toilet paper, and boxes of miniature soap and shampoo. No one would find her here. She pulled the dangling light switch, made a seat for herself out of a pile of towels, and tugged the cupboard door closed.

“Focus, Audrey, focus,” she told herself. Sometimes, when emotions started to overwhelm her, they could escalate into a panic attack. She didn’t want that to happen on her wedding day. She needed to get ahead of it, to pull herself out of whatever tailspin she was in. Seeing Fred had flung open a door, and she needed to work out how she was going to close it, for good.





17


Six Years Before I Do



As Fred held the door open and Audrey stepped outside the café, she saw with surprise that the rain had stopped. Fred suggested they walk down to Hyde Park.

“Where were you headed, before you spotted me on the platform?” he asked.

“The dentist, and then the library,” she said, grimacing. “I should call to reschedule, but I don’t have a phone right now. I managed to put mine through the wash yesterday—it’s currently sitting in a bag of rice.”

“I don’t know if that trick works after a whole spin cycle.”

“I have faith.” She grinned. “The rice trick hasn’t failed me yet.”

“Do you want to use mine?” he asked. She shook her head. “I’ll feel responsible if your dentist blacklists you and all your teeth fall out.”

“Well, you can feed me puréed churros if they do.”

“Deal.”

When they got to the park, there was a brass band playing on the bandstand. It was an upbeat, joyous tune, and Fred started to swing his hips, dancing his way along the path just as the sun came out from behind a cloud. He was a good dancer with natural rhythm, as though the music were pulling him in time with the notes. Audrey usually only liked to dance in the anonymity of a dark nightclub, but Fred took her hand and swung her around, encouraging her to move with him.

The conductor must have seen them dancing on the grass, because the music changed, and the band started to play “Singin’ in the Rain.” Fred threw down his bags in delight and pulled Audrey into an up-tempo waltz around the bandstand. His hands were firm and confident, clasping her waist and hand. It was exhilarating, and for a moment, she felt as though she were flying.

What was she doing here? Dancing around the park with a stranger? This was not how Audrey had predicted her Saturday would go. She’d thought she’d be getting a filling replaced, followed by several hours of linear algebra, not being transported into some 1950s musical theater fantasy. Fred began singing, making up the words, and Audrey felt a swell of delight, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Did you arrange this?” she asked, slightly breathless, as he spun her around and around on the grass in broad daylight.

“Yes, I called ahead. I like to have a full brass band on standby whenever I have a date with a beautiful girl.”

“This is a date, is it?” she asked, unable to hide her smile.

“A fortuitous meeting,” he said with exaggerated grandeur.

When the music came to an end, the band put down their instruments to applaud their dancing. Audrey and Fred both bowed and clapped for the band in return. A few onlookers cheered, and an elderly man with a shock of white hair came over to tell them that seeing them dance like that had made his day. Unlike her mother, Audrey had never been much of an exhibitionist, but for some reason, today she didn’t mind being the center of attention.

They left the bandstand and walked further into the park.

“You know, you’re just what I imagined you’d be like,” Fred said, looking across at her with a dimpled grin. “Sexy and smart.”

“So are you,” she said, then blushed. “You have this infectious energy, like you’re hungry to live every moment all at once.”