Chapter 1 #3
“You used my full name.” I sit up straight, trying to focus. “Do I know you?”
He cocks his head. “What do you think, Georgie?”
I stare at him, and then gasp as the pieces finally click in my brain. The man’s adult features merge with the boy I knew and once loved so desperately. “Zeke?”
He smiles. “The very same.”
Joy rushes through me. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. “Oh my god, what are you doing in London?”
He hesitates and then says, “I was here for a meeting with a supplier and was just getting some lunch before I catch the train back.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognise you.”
“Have I changed so much?”
I look at him again, and it’s funny to see the boy I once knew well enough that I could sketch his face in my dreams. “No,” I say slowly.
“It’s just that you’re grown now, and your memory belongs in Devon in my head and not in a cafe on a side street in London.
” I can’t help my sudden grin. It seems to take over my whole face, and he answers it with a smile of his own—that same familiar, wry twitch of his mouth that makes his lovely eyes twinkle.
“It’s so fucking good to see you, Zeke.”
That smile of his is gentle and warm and so typical of the boy I knew so well. I’m glad to see it on his adult face. “And you,” he says softly. He hesitates. “Erm, you have something on your forehead.”
“Do I?” I reach up and groan when I find Nigel’s business card there. “I think it must have stuck when I banged my head on the table.”
“I never thought otherwise,” he says smoothly. “Still, at least if you ever need a tap, you’ll have the card in a safe place.”
“Prat,” I say, and his laughter is warm.
For a moment we just stare at each other and then I shake my head. “I don’t know what to say.”
He gestures at Nigel’s chair. “May I?”
“Of course you can.” He sits down, and I eye him. Now I’m not distracted, I recognise him easily, but I suppose I should do. He was once one of the most important people in my life. “How long has it been?”
“Seven years.” His voice is still lovely—deep and posh with a Devon drawl.
I sigh. “I’m sorry we lost touch.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine.”
I wave him off. “No, it isn’t.” I hesitate, trying to find words. “I didn’t want to leave the farm. But when my mum and Clive broke up, I had to go.”
“I know that.”
“I should have kept in touch with you, but the few times we met up afterwards were so brief, and it felt awkward. It was just easier in the end not to see you. And while I’m doing my apology tour I should also say that I’m sorry I didn’t come to your wedding.
It was lovely of you to send an invitation. ”
“You were on holiday at the time. I completely understood.”
“Hmm.”
I’d actually bought a bottle of wine and got completely drunk on the day of his wedding, but I’m not going to tell him that.
“I thought you were being polite when you said you wanted to stay friends,” I finish.
“Why would you think that?” His eyes widen.
“Because you were older than me and developing this big life for yourself, and I was in London doing the complete opposite. I was a very chaotic temp at the time, and my life felt so messy. I thought I would be a nuisance to you.”
He cocks his head. “That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he says gravely.
He reaches out and takes my hand, and I go still inside.
A thrill runs along my fingers and palm at the touch of his callused hand.
It’s big and looks so tanned over my own pale hand.
“There’s really no need to apologise,” he says again, ever generous.
“I’m just happy to see you.” He lets my hand go, checks his watch, and immediately grimaces.
“But I do need to go. I’m sorry, but I’ll miss my train if I don’t get a move on. ”
“Really?” I can’t help the disappointment in my voice.
His face lights up. “Give me your number.”
I rattle it off, and he taps it into his phone. Mine rings a second later, and he nods. “Now you have mine.” He hesitates. “I couldn’t help overhearing. Simon is getting married?”
I cock my head. “You didn’t know? Aren’t you still friends with him?”
“No. He was just a school friend. We’re very different people as adults. It turned out that our only common ground was you.”
“Makes me sound like Hyde Park.”
His mouth quirks. “Without you there as the glue between us we gradually stopped speaking altogether. I can’t say I miss him. So, he’s getting married?”
“Yeah, can you believe it? He’s finally found someone willing to take on his personality for a lifetime. I don’t know whether to give the unfortunate man a coffee machine as a wedding present or a lifelong subscription to a mental institution.”
His laughter is so rich and warm that heads turn, and I grin at him.
I used to love to make him laugh. He was a quiet, gentle boy, and I always felt like I’d won a prize to see him lose his control.
I have a sudden flash of walking the narrow lane near the farm with him, and for a second, I think I can smell the sweet perfume of the hawthorn that grew wild in the hedgerow and hear our youthful voices.
He smiles at me. “So, where’s the wedding?”
“It’s in Devon. His parents still live in the same house.” Simon had lived in the village near Zeke’s parents’ farm and had attended the same boarding school as us. “It’s actually at a hotel a few miles away from your place.”
“And I gather that you’re looking for a fake boyfriend?”
Heat instantly warms my cheeks. “It’s not like I don’t have real opportunities,” I say quickly.
“I’m sure you do.”
The honesty is evident in his voice, and I relax. “Yeah, it was just one of my mad ideas.”
“Good god, I remember those. You used to get us into so much trouble.”
I snort. “Well, I haven’t changed.”
“I’m glad about that, Georgie.”
I smile helplessly at him. “I’m so glad I met you again.”
“Me too.” He checks his watch again. “Shit, I have to go.” He stands up and opens his arms, and I step into them without a second’s thought. When they close around me in a hug, it feels strangely like I’ve come home. All too soon, he sets me back. “Why not let me help you?”
I blink. “Pardon?”
“With the wedding.”
His meaning takes me a second to work out. “You want to be my fake boyfriend?”
He quickly scans my face and then looks away, shrugging. “Yeah, why not?”
“You’ll go to Simon’s wedding with me?”
“Of course. It would be my pleasure.”
The words are formal and sound strange, but also so lovely—like safety in a mixture of vowels and consonants.
“But I was going to find someone with my advert,” I say stupidly. I grimace and go to say something else that’s slightly more intelligent, but he gets out his phone and taps something.
Even as I watch, he snorts with laughter at my ad and then starts pecking away on his phone, ignoring me. When my own phone beeps, he nods at it, so I reach over and grab it. The Heart2Heart message alert is flashing, and I open it, my heart pounding.
I quickly read the message and look up at him. He gives me his familiar, crooked grin. “So, will I do as a prospective fake boyfriend? I have all my own teeth and can manage to go a few hours before my mouth drops open. I also use a napkin at dinner.”
“Where have you been all my life?” I breathe, and his gaze flickers over my face again.
“Where I’ve always been,” he says softly. “What do you think?”
Joy is running through me so strongly that I feel dizzy. Joy at finding one of my best friends unexpectedly when I thought I’d lost him, and at the chance of spending time with him. “I say yes.”
His smile is big. “Wonderful. Why don’t you come and spend a couple of days at the farm before the wedding? We can go over our stories.”
“Really? I would love that,” I say fervently.
He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I have to go. I’ll message you tonight.”
“Make sure you do,” I say in a stern voice, and his eyes twinkle.
“See you soon,” he says, and with a far too brief hug, he’s gone.
I watch his broad-shouldered figure slide into a cab and crane my head to watch it disappear down the road.
When it’s gone, I linger a second in the cafe.
Life feels funny all of a sudden. Like it’s a rollercoaster that just did a switchback, leaving me dizzy.
My phone beeps and I fumble for it, smiling helplessly as I see his message.
It was so good to see you.
You too, I type, and I don’t think I’ve ever written anything more truthful.