Wedding Night

stare back at him, stricken. I thought we had a special, unique silent bond of understanding. I thought we had a private code. And all the time he was just nodding along.
    Two waiters put our salads in front of us and quickly move away, as though sensing we’re not in any mood to talk. I pick up my fork and put it down again. Richard doesn’t even seem to have noticed his plate.
    “I bought you an engagement ring,” I say, breaking the silence.
    “Oh God.” He buries his head in his hands.
    “It’s fine. I’ll take it back.”
    “Lottie …” He looks tortured. “Do we have to … I’m going away tomorrow. Couldn’t we just move away from the whole subject?”
    “So, do you
ever
want to get married?” As I ask the question, I feel a deep anguish inside. A minute ago I thought I was engaged. I’d run the marathon. I was bursting through the finishing tape, arms up in elation. Now I’m back at the starting line, lacing up my shoes, wondering if the race is even on.
    “I … God, Lottie … I dunno.” He sounds beleaguered. “I mean, yes. I suppose so.” His eyes are swiveling more and more wildly. “Maybe. You know. Eventually.”
    Well. You couldn’t get a much clearer signal. Maybehe wants to get married to someone else, one day. But not to me.
    And suddenly a bleak despair comes over me. I believed with all my heart that he was The One. How could I have got it so wrong? I feel as though I can’t trust myself on anything anymore.
    “Right.” I stare down at my salad for a few moments, running my eyes over leaves and slices of avocado and pomegranate seeds, trying to get my thoughts together. “The thing is, Richard, I
do
want to get married. I want marriage, kids, a house—the whole bit. And I wanted them with you. But marriage is kind of a two-way thing.” I pause, breathing hard but determined to keep my composure. “So I guess it’s good that I know the truth sooner rather than later. Thanks for that, anyway.”
    “Lottie!” says Richard in alarm. “Wait! This doesn’t change anything—”
    “It changes everything. I’m too old to be on a waiting list. If it’s not going to happen with us, then I’d rather know now and move on. You know?” I try to smile, but my happy muscles have stopped working. “Have fun in San Francisco. I think I’d better go.” Tears are edging past my lashes. I need to leave, quickly. I’ll go back to work and check on my presentation for tomorrow. I’d taken the afternoon off, but what’s the point? I won’t be phoning all my friends with the joyful news after all.
    As I’m making my way out, I feel a hand grabbing my arm. I turn in shock to see the blond girl with the beaded headband looking up at me.
    “What happened?” she demands excitedly. “Did he give you a ring?”
    Her question is like a knife stabbing in my heart. He didn’tgive me a ring and he isn’t even my boyfriend anymore. But I’d rather die than admit it.
    “Actually …” I lift my chin proudly. “Actually, he proposed but I said ‘No.’ ”
    “Oh.” Her hand shoots to her mouth.
    “That’s right.” I catch the eye of the long-haired girl, who’s eavesdropping blatantly at the next table. “I said ‘No.’ ”
    “You said
‘No’
?” She looks so incredulous that I feel a pang of indignation.
    “Yes!” I glare at her defiantly. “I said ‘No.’ We weren’t right for each other after all, so I made the decision to end it. Even though he really wanted to marry me and have kids and a dog and everything …”
    I can feel curious eyes on my back, and I swivel round to face yet more people listening agog. Is the whole bloody
restaurant
in on this now?
    “I said ‘No’!” My voice is rising in distress. “I said ‘No.’
No!
” I call over loudly to Richard, who is still sitting at the table, looking dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, Richard. I know you’re in love with me and I know I’m breaking your heart right now. But the answer’s no!”
    And, feeling a tiny bit better, I stride out of the restaurant.
    I get back to work to find my desk littered with new Post-its. The phone must have been busy while I was out. I slump down at my desk and heave a long, shuddering sigh. Then I hear a cough. Kayla, my intern, is hovering at the door of my tiny office. Kayla hovers round my door a lot. She’s the keenest intern I’ve ever met. She wrote me a two-sided Christmas card about how inspiring I was as a role model and how she would