Before I Do(77)

“Jayson, how’s your coffee business going?” Vivien asked, and people went back to their individual conversations.

Fred turned to her and asked, “How are you feeling? Is your head okay?”

“Fine,” she said with a wry smile.

“Do you believe in things happening for a reason?” he asked quietly, and she didn’t reply. How was she supposed to get through this conversation? “Because I think I do. And last night I didn’t want to say anything, to make things harder for you, but now, with the wedding not happening, I have to say, I feel like I was meant to come here, meant to find you. I don’t think you were supposed to get married today. You don’t have to go through with this just because you said yes.”

“So, books?” Audrey asked loudly. “Read anything good lately?”

“Audrey . . .”

“What are you two sounding so serious about?” Josh asked, leaning into their conversation as he tore a bread roll in two.

“Books,” said Audrey.

“Love. Life. Destiny. The eternal, unending, and ultimately futile search for meaning in this fragile plane of existence,” said Fred.

Josh laughed, reaching behind Audrey to pat Fred on the back. “I can see why Miranda thought you two would get on.”

Audrey wanted to shrink to the size of the bride figurine on top of the cake, wrap herself in a lilac napkin, and hide inside it for the rest of the day. Preferably with a miniature bottle of champagne and a few giant crumbs of wedding cake to keep her going.

Josh turned to the waiter, who was offering him wine, and Audrey glanced back at Fred, who was observing her with soulful eyes.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story last night, about that day I didn’t come.”

“Okay, is this book fiction or nonfiction?” Audrey asked, trying desperately to get him back onto the safer topic of books.

“Nonfiction,” he said, bowing his head slightly, taking her cue. “It’s the story of a guy who had this one amazing afternoon with an incredible girl. He should have said something at the time, but he was seeing someone. Technically he was not free, and he didn’t want to see her again until he was. He was cycling to break up with his girlfriend the morning after they met, and that’s when he got knocked off his bike.” He paused. “He should have tried harder to call straightaway, but his girlfriend came to look after him at the hospital, and he couldn’t break up with her then, it felt too cruel.”

Audrey was listening, but also checking to see that Josh was not. Luckily, he was now engaged in conversation with Brian across the table.

“He was seeing someone, and he didn’t think to mention it once that whole afternoon?” she said quietly.

“I know it’s no excuse, but she was the Photo Booth Girl. She’d held a place in his imagination for so long, and he felt this immediate connection with her. He didn’t plan to deceive anyone.”

“You said the number he had didn’t work. Did it smudge?”

Fred looked perplexed by the question. “No, he called and got through, but the person he spoke to said he had the wrong number, that no one by that name lived there. He tried it several times.”

“The person he spoke to. Does he remember anything about them?”

Fred thought for a moment, trying to recall. “It was a man, with a South African accent. He remembers because it was a distinctive voice, and the man got angry the third time he tried the number.”

Fred had called. He had spoken to Benedict, probably on the day Benedict was packing his things to leave. Audrey’s skin prickled with cold at the thought. Of course he wouldn’t have taken a message. The cruelty of karma.

“Well, I don’t feel like I need to read the book now you’ve told me the whole plot,” Audrey said, feeling her throat tighten. If she had not said anything to her mother, if she had gotten Fred’s message, would she be sitting here now?





45


Ten Months Before I Do



“You’ll need to decide where you want to sit, what we want to eat and drink. There’s the guest list, caterers, florists, venue, music. There’s a lot to think about in a wedding, Audrey. I have fifteen tabs on this Excel document alone,” said Josh. “I also have a hundred other non-wedding-related jobs. One of us needs to write to the council and tell them they put us in the wrong council tax band.”

“Okay,” said Audrey, then paused.

“I’ll do that then, shall I?” Josh asked, a note of resignation in his tone.

Audrey nodded. They were sitting at the kitchen table in their flat, going through Josh’s to-do list. They had moved in together a few months after getting engaged. Josh’s flat felt too small for them both, so they’d taken on a new lease on a two-bedroom place in Kennington in South London. Audrey had been excited to create a grown-up home, to choose soft furnishings, to have stationery printed (people still did that, right?), to say good-bye to student living and a fridge where Paul still insisted on labeling his cheese.

“Wedding list,” Josh said, scrolling down the list on his phone. “Are we happy going with the place your mother suggested?”

“Sure,” Audrey said, pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Did you want me to confirm those caterers, or were you and Vivien going to meet a few more options while I’m away?” Josh tapped his pen on the table and then the washing machine made a loud beeping noise. He jumped up to transfer a load of clothes from the washer to the dryer. “We’re out of the anti-color-run paper. Can you add it to the online order? The tab is open on my laptop.”