Chapter 2
2
I’m running late – and for a dinner that was booked for late anyway, so hurrying through Leeds city centre at this time just feels all kinds of wrong.
It’s almost ten o’clock which, come on, feels more like a getting-home time than a going-out time. It’s not that I’m an early sleeper, I’m definitely a night owl, it’s more that I think I’m just fully ready to embrace my granny era. I know, I’m only thirty-two, and I’ll have plenty of time for that sort of thing later but… I don’t know. Is it so bad that I feel so ready now? I work in recruitment, for a big company that makes biscuits, which is more stressful than you might think – although the amount of tea and biscuits we consume on a daily basis is as you would expect, and it’s probably the best perk of the job. That said, I’m still knackered, and the early-morning commute isn’t for me.
Autumn is pretty much here so all I can really do is just surrender to it, embrace it even. I do really like autumn. I love the colours, the smells, the flavours. I’m all for cosy cardigans, cups of tea, curling up on the sofa underneath a blanket, binge-watching Netflix while counting down the days until Christmas – which I love. That’s what I want.
After that I just have to endure January, February and March, because I hate the cold and dark nights, and then it’s spring and summer is on the horizon. And then we do it all again.
I have never been more certain that I was born to hibernate. The nights getting darker earlier and the weather getting colder is only confirming it for me.
Actually, you know what, what I really need is a holiday, more than anything. A proper one. Not a weekend break to London with Dean – which actually just turned out to be for a meeting and to watch the cricket, and it horizontal rained the whole time we were there – but a proper trip to somewhere warm. I need to feel the sun on my skin, for it to warm me through. I need to sit by the pool, sipping cocktails and relaxing. You just can’t get that in the UK, even on a nice day, it’s not the same.
A cold breeze rushes by me, reminding me that I’m in the UK, and that I should probably hurry up.
Finally arriving at the restaurant, after what I would call some of my best speed-walking, I push my way through the heavy glass doors to find that the place is empty. Have I come to the wrong place? Have I misunderstood the time?
‘Molly?’ a waiter checks.
‘Yes,’ I reply.
‘This way, please.’
He gestures for me to follow him, so maybe I am in the right place.
I smile when I notice Dean, sitting alone at a table in the middle of an otherwise empty restaurant. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves.
He looks good in his suit – I don’t even think you need an eye for expensive things to tell that his outfit cost a small fortune and that he most definitely works in finance. He’s tall with dark hair and blue eyes which is just – the dream, right?
He smiles as he beckons me over.
‘Come on, I am starving,’ he says playfully. ‘Hello.’
‘Hi,’ I reply, giving him a peck on the lips before I take my seat at the table across from him.
‘I ordered us a bottle of wine,’ he tells me. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m great, yeah,’ I reply, finally catching my breath. ‘How was work?’
‘Yeah, it was fine,’ he says. ‘Well, no, it was stressful, but everyone is richer now, so all is well that ends well.’
He leans back in his chair and grins.
‘It all went really well, by the way,’ I tell him.
‘Good,’ he replies. Then he realises he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. ‘What went well?’
‘The proposal,’ I remind him.
‘Ah, good,’ he says simply.
‘Ellis was amazing, and Lou was in total shock – over the moon though,’ I continue. ‘I took some photos, to show you how amazing the garden looked.’
‘Great,’ he replies.
He’s definitely distracted by something, or there’s something on his mind, because I don’t really feel like he’s listening to me.
‘She was?—’
‘I’ve ordered for us, by the way,’ he says, talking over me. ‘I thought you’d be starving too.’
‘Oh, okay, great,’ I reply with a smile. ‘It will be a nice surprise then.’
He nods before taking a sip of his wine.
‘I just thought, you know, skip that whole step,’ he reasons.
‘Absolutely,’ I reply. ‘I really am starving. We only had celebratory drinks and, to be honest, I feel like they’ve gone to my head a little.’
‘Well, weddings are all about getting drunk anyway, right?’ he says.
‘Yeah, although knowing Lou, you just know it’s going to be something super classy – an absolute dream.’
That’s just the kind of girl Lou is. If something is worth doing, she does it right.
‘So long as you’re not the one planning it,’ he says with a bit of a laugh. ‘You’ve been so preoccupied with this proposal stuff, I was hoping I might have you back now.’
‘I’m sure she can take it from here,’ I point out. ‘I’ll have bridesmaid duties, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ he says, rolling his eyes. ‘Well, if you’re finally all mine again, I was going to ask you…’
Dean pauses to rummage around in his jacket pocket.
Oh… my… God. Is he proposing? Was Lou right? He’s got me here, in this restaurant, just the two of us. He’s ordered the wine, the food, he’s talking about having me all to himself, and now he’s going to ask me something. It seems more and more likely by the second, and I can feel the hope rising up through my body, finally reaching my face. I feel my jaw drop slightly in anticipation, I feel like I’m sitting more upright, and my hands have never felt sweatier.
But then he pulls out his phone and my face must fall because Dean looks at me, confused, like he can’t work out what has gone wrong.
‘What?’ he asks me.
‘What?’ I reply, trying to style it out.
He looks between me and his phone before finally placing it back in his pocket.
‘Molly… did you…?’
‘Did I…?’ I reply, trying to hide my disappointment, but it’s not easy.
‘Oh my God, you thought I was going to propose, didn’t you?’ he says, grinning slightly.
‘What? No!’ I insist.
‘You did,’ he replies, laughing, shaking his head. ‘All of this proposal stuff has turned your brain to mush.’
‘Oi, that’s not what I thought,’ I say, trying not to sound too defensive, but it’s not really working. I guess I really did let myself get swept up in the romance.
‘Molly, we’ve been over this countless times,’ he says with a sigh.
‘I know,’ I reply, trying to find my confidence again. ‘And I totally get it. You have nothing to worry about.’
‘Don’t I?’ he replies. ‘Because it sort of feels like I do. I was just getting my phone out to check if I’d booked an early squash game, because I was going to ask if you wanted to stay at mine tonight, but suddenly it feels like that’s never going to be enough for you.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say firmly.
‘Is it?’ he checks. ‘Or are you secretly hoping I’ll change my mind?’
I just sigh as I watch Dean knock back the contents of his glass. I need to say something, to smooth this over.
‘Dean, honestly, can we just forget about this, please?’ I ask. ‘I would love to stay at yours tonight. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen.’
‘Which we could do, but it’s only going to come up again,’ he says as he rubs the back of his neck.
‘Dean, it?—’
‘No, Molly, come on, I think we need to face the facts,’ he says firmly. ‘We want totally different things in life. You want a husband and a family and I don?—’
He stops mid-word, clearly to change course.
‘My work is my life,’ he continues. ‘It’s what I love the most, it’s my family – it’s my future. And I don’t think you fit into that future any more.’
His words feel like a punch to the stomach. I can’t believe I actually thought he was going to propose – the only thing he’s proposing is that we break up.
I open my mouth to plead or argue or anything to stop the wheels, but they’re already in motion and, well, there’s no point stopping them now.
I thought Dean and I had a future together, that this was going somewhere whether we made it official with a bit of paper or not, that didn’t matter to me. Now I feel like, what, we’ve just been dating for the best part of three years? I feel so stupid.
I chew my lip for a second. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say.
For a moment he just stares at me. Then his expression softens, just a little.
‘I think we both know that ending things is the right thing to do,’ he says. ‘But, look, stay. Have dinner with me. You can even still stay at mine tonight, if you like, but then after that…’
Everything clicks into place for me. Sure, I could have dinner with him, I could even spend the night with him, and maybe, just maybe I could convince him that we can keep things as they are, and that I’ll never want more, but this whole embarrassing ordeal has given me a kind of clarity that I didn’t have before. I don’t want to be with someone who loves their job more than they love me, who will always put me second. Not only that but I was willing to forget about getting married because I loved him, because I didn’t care about that, I only cared about him. Surely, if he felt the same, he would be willing to make those sorts of compromises too? If he’s not willing to settle then neither am I.
I grab my bag from under the table and stand up.
‘You know what? I think I’ll give dinner a miss,’ I tell him. ‘Maybe you could get some work done, while you eat. In fact, maybe you can spend the night in bed with your work. I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together.’
‘Molly, you’re being daft,’ he says, but I don’t care. I don’t even reply, I just head for the door with my head held high.
I’ll show him that I don’t need him and I don’t want him, and I am totally unbothered. Frankly, I’ve dodged a bullet.
It feels so much cooler out here, now that I’ve been inside for a little while, but I’m sure I’ll soon warm up as I march home like the strong, independent woman that I am. Home to my home – my home that is still all decked out with pure romance – and I’ll walk over the rose petals, go upstairs, get in my bed and then, and only then, will I cry myself to sleep.
Well, just because I know my worth, doesn’t mean I’m not totally devastated about it.