Before I Do(96)

So, no regrets about this reality, have a great life, and maybe I’ll catch you in the next one.

All my positive cosmic energy,

Fred


To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: An apology

Dear Fred,

Thanks for your e-mail, and for your apology, I appreciate it. I don’t think I am Photo Booth Girl anymore, but if she’s happy somewhere, then I’m glad. For me, I think maybe that initial spark, that first meeting, could be written in the stars, but it is only the first page—the rest of the story we have to write for ourselves.

Best wishes and good-bye,

Audrey





* * *





Clara: Did you know there’s a video of you on TikTok, down on one knee, singing some terrible song to Josh?!? Search #proposalfails


Audrey: Oh no, bloody Keeley! How do I take it down?


Clara: Er you can’t. It’s gone viral. People are doing electro remixes of your song (attached). “Josh, Josh, forgive her, Josh, Josh,” is now a meme. Jay says to tell you that singing is definitely not your calling. I think it’s sweet. Where did you get the glitter cannon?


Josh: Having the strangest day. People keep singing this weird song at me.


Josh: Someone just sent me the video.


Audrey: I was going to tell you about that . . . Didn’t you say all the great love stories end in a dance routine?





57


Six Months After I Didn’t



It was a small wedding. Just close family and a few best friends. Audrey hadn’t wanted to go back to Millward Hall; the church was too big, the acoustics too intimidating, the place too full of bad memories and converging ley lines (apparently). Reverend Daniels had made a full recovery and wished them both well, wherever they decided to get married.

They ended up choosing a tiny church in Sussex, where Audrey’s father’s family were originally from. It was in fact one of the smallest chapels in the UK and only had room for twenty people. As soon as Audrey stepped inside, she knew this was the place. She and Josh had planned every detail between them this time—just twenty guests, wildflowers, Spanish tapas, and a playlist of songs with a decent speaker. There wasn’t a salmon terrine or a lilac napkin in sight.

When she’d finally unpacked her bag from the first wedding, Audrey had found the bride figurine with the face scraped off wrapped up in her crumpled wedding dress. Carefully, she repainted an enormous smile. No one could find the groom from the original cake, so Audrey bought a new one. She searched online through hundreds of figurines until she found one that looked like Josh. The wedding cake was a chocolate mocha gateau. Audrey chose it herself. The little bride and groom stood together shin-deep in chocolate ganache. They looked incredibly happy—this little bride wasn’t jumping anywhere.

Vivien accompanied her daughter in the car to the church and held her hand as they walked up the churchyard path. Vivien had separated from Lawrence and was now seeing Brian again. They were taking things slowly, but Audrey hadn’t seen her mother this buoyant in years. She was laughing more, stressing less. She and Audrey had fallen into a new routine of spending Sunday afternoons together, just the two of them, the way they used to.

“Your dress is perfect. You look so much like yourself, darling.”

“Thank you, so do you,” said Audrey.

“No allergies today?”

Audrey checked her arms. “None.”

This time, she had chosen a long-sleeved, forties-style, ivory evening gown with a slit up the front. She had found it in a vintage store and chosen it for no other reason than that she felt fabulous wearing it. She didn’t need to wear her mother’s old dress to feel close to her.

Before Vivien went to take her seat in the church, she pulled Audrey into a hug. There was no rigidity in her frame, no urge to pull away; they just held each other tight for a moment. As she embraced her mother, Audrey looked down at her gold and emerald engagement ring. It might not have been the exact style she would have picked for herself, but now she wouldn’t change it for anything. Josh had chosen it for her; that made her love it.

Audrey had decided to walk herself down the aisle this time, and she would not walk at a funeral pace, she would stride toward the altar, confident in where she was headed. She and Josh had chosen every word of the service, every reading and poem, including a passage from Josh’s favorite book—The Hidden Life of Trees. “Starman” by David Bowie played them out of the church, in honor of Audrey’s dad. It all felt so personal, the perfect way to commit to a life together of their own making.

For the reception, they’d found an idyllic venue in the woods, just a ten-minute drive from the church. It was perfect for a small winter gathering. There was a cabin with an open fire, a long trestle table, trees hung with fairy lights, and a firepit surrounded by a circle of cushions and fake-fur rugs. Audrey had set the table herself; it was laden with tapas dishes and decorated with holly, ivy, and red candles. She had decorated each place setting with a hand-drawn map of a constellation and a brown paper bag with an acorn inside. They wanted their guests to plant the acorns somewhere special to them. There was no seating plan; it would be a moveable feast, so that everyone got a chance to talk.

Halfway through the meal, Hillary came to sit between Audrey and Clara.