Epilogue
The black backless full-length satin dress with a fishtail hem and slit up the front hangs in its wrapper on the back of his door.
It’s the first thing I see when I open my eyes.
On the floor underneath it, I’ve laid out the five-inch glittery stilettos I bought to match that Karina fervently disagrees with me wearing, telling me I’ll be wandering around in my bare feet by the middle of the afternoon.
No doubt I’ll disappear during the speeches to try and pilfer a pair of flip flops from the hotel’s spa.
My black bag is lined up too, as is the overnight bag I’ve packed for the both of us.
I let out a little squeal when my brain wakes up enough to remember what today is, and a hand snakes around my middle. I turn away from the dress to find Elliot, only seconds out of sleep himself, smiling at me, his eyes alight with amusement.
‘Good morning, bridesmaid,’ he says.
‘Good morning,’ I say, snuggling into him. ‘You know I can’t believe I’m still having to slum it and hang my clothes on the back of your door when you have that huge dressing room. Don’t you think it’s about time to relent some space?’
‘Steady on. I’m not sure we’re ready for that.’
‘No, you’re right. I should slow down. Eighteen months together is far too soon to be expecting a few coat hangers in a wardrobe.’
‘I knew you’d understand, babe,’ he says and ruffles the top of my hair.
I push against his bare chest with my hands in mock outrage, and he pulls me back to him before rolling me on to my back and climbing on top of me.
He kisses me deeply, hungrily, but amazing as it always is, especially in the mornings when he’s playful like this, I wriggle out from under him.
‘We can’t,’ I say. ‘I’ve a wedding to get ready for. I need to be at the hotel for nine, and you’re meeting up with Matthew and the boys for breakfast.’ I let out a happy sigh. ‘Can you believe it’s finally here?’
‘I know,’ he says, rolling onto his side and turning to face me. ‘How nervous do you think they’ll be this morning?’
‘Karina won’t be nervous at all. She’s been counting down to this day for months. She just wants to be married. I should get up and get over to her. She’ll have been up for hours already.’
Elliot pouts, and his hand reaches out, stroking the skin on my shoulder with his fingertips before beginning to move down. ‘Are you sure you don’t have five minutes to spare?’
‘I can’t,’ I say, but don’t move away.
‘Three?’ he asks, tracing around my belly button with his finger.
‘No.’
‘Two and a half?’ he asks, moving down.
I laugh. ‘We can’t.’
He kisses me again before moving away and getting up, reaching for the dressing gown I bought him for Christmas. He turns back to me, and the sight of him, sleepy and happy and with a substantial amount of his chest on display, makes my stomach dip. Eighteen months later, and I’m not done falling.
‘How about I make you a coffee while you get ready?’
‘Yes, please. But that can wait. I believe two minutes have just become available, if you’re interested?’
‘Always,’ he says, before coming back to me.
I’m behind schedule leaving his flat as I so often am, but when I arrive at Karina’s hotel room, I find it doesn’t matter as she’s already wearing the beautiful backless ivory satin gown she chose over a year ago and is completely radiant and ready to go.
She needs none of my help. Instead, she’s the one who orders me and Teddy to get moving, the one who instructs the hairdresser to pull my hair back into a low bun and helps Teddy put on the bracelet she’s bought herself as a present for My Best Ex having such an incredible first year.
She’s worked amazingly hard to get it up and running and deserves all the success.
I like to think Elliot and I have contributed too, spending many Friday nights in dating hot spots handing out flyers to people who look like they’re having a terrible date.
People have found the app, and I couldn’t be happier about it.
Once we’re all ready, there’s still time to spare. I pour us each a glass of champagne, and we stand in a circle in the middle of the room, the matching tattoos of our intertwined initials that Teddy talked us into getting when we were eighteen peeking out from under our dresses.
‘To Karina,’ I say.
‘No. To us,’ she corrects, looking at the scrawl on our skin that still binds us all together before we bring our glasses together.
‘To us.’