Chapter 27
AUDREY
It’s my wedding day, and I’m standing in my ivory dress, the peonies Fraser sent me crushed at my feet. At some point, probably around two in the morning or about eight glasses in—whichever way you want to measure it—I thought it would help the creative process if I tried it on.
The satin felt so sleek and cool against my skin.
I tied the ribbon belt around my waist and watched the crystals sparkle in the mirror under the halogen lights.
Then I sat at that piano, took the piece I’d been writing for his fortieth, and finished it.
My best work, because he was in every single note.
Lyrical, because we were together through it all.
I pass the card to Rach, flopping beside her. See you at the church.
She reads it and almost dissolves.
‘Oh, God!’ I say, palm shooting straight to my forehead in distress. I reach for my phone and check the messages I sent last night.
Yes! Here it is. Sent at four thirty a.m.
This is for the service. Keep your fucking hands off it. But tell me what you think.
Attached to the message was a voice recording of me playing the piece, punctuated by my sobs and sniffs, which Rach and I listen to now.
‘Maybe they’re onto something when they say to “write drunk” …’ I say in the silence after it’s finished. ‘I can’t believe I sent this to Josh.’
‘If you had to drunk text him anything, at least it was a masterpiece,’ she argues, wiping her eyes, my music having finally broken through her tightly wound emotional defences. ‘I think it’s a perfect tribute to the love of my best friend’s life.’
The words catch on her breath, and in the air, and we stare at each other, as if we’re absorbed in a mental flashback of this love story from beginning to end.
From those first emails in the office, and that moment in Zoe’s back garden at the party.
The way Fraser had stepped forward, facing Connor—a fight he would have comprehensively lost, which made it all the more attractive that he tried—moments before I intervened with that bucket of ice and caught his eye.
‘Told you a hard reset from Fraser Miller would be utterly delectable,’ she says, nudging my leg with hers, summarising our entire relationship in one line, confirming that she’d been right all along. She always knows what’s best for me, and she’d called this, right from the start.
Fraser Miller was perfect.