All eight tiers wobbled.
The kissing figurines at the top tilted slightly to one side . . . and stilled.
I breathed out in relief. “Okay, that was too close. Ezra, you really need to go.”
NOB was giving Ben a considering look. “You know, it’s true what they say about redheads,” he said, casually. “All fire. I’m only sad I didn’t get to find out if she screws anything like she kisses—oof.”
Ben rugby-tackled him from the side.
Oh, God, oh, no. NOB flew backward, arms cartwheeling. He put a hand out to catch himself, but the only thing behind him was the cake.
There was nothing I could do but watch as NOB’s right arm and shoulder went straight through the bottom tier.
There was a moment of perfect stillness, all of us too stunned to react.
Then the cake started to shake as NOB tried to extract himself.
“Stop moving! It might still be salvageable,” I said, desperately. Maybe if we turned the cake around, we could hide the giant hole . . .
Ben held out his hand to help NOB up. “Come on,” he said.
NOB made as if to take his hand—only to fling a huge chunk of sponge into Ben’s face.
“Right,” Ben said calmly, wiping cream from his eyes. Then he launched himself at NOB and they both careened backward into the cake, knocking the whole thing off its plinth and onto the floor with an audible splat.
Ohmygodhowisthishappeningohnononono.
They both leaped up, slipping and sliding as they grabbed on to each other’s shoulders and wrestled in its ruins.
“For goodness’ sake, both of you stop it!”
NOB took a foot-long turret that had once been part of the icing castle and whacked Ben across the back. Ben retaliated by lifting up the whole second tier and dropping it onto NOB’s head.
“You are grown men!”
NOB went down, scrabbling around in the cake as Ben plucked some icing flowers and started pelting him with them. With both hands, NOB seized the biggest turret and thrust it toward Ben like a javelin. Ben grabbed hold of the other end, yanked him to his feet. Grunting with the exertion, the men played tug-of-war until the whole thing broke in two, sending them both sprawling back down onto the cake-smeared floor.
Something splatted hard against my chest. “Oh!”
Cold cream slid down inside my dress.
This is a complete and utter disaster.
“Come on in, there’s plenty of room for everyone.” There was a man’s voice coming from beyond the curtain. It was the DJ. What’s he doing here?
“It’s time to witness the new Mr. and Mrs. Johnson cutting the cake. And what a cake it is too, folks! Drum roll, please!”
Please, no.
The three of us froze. Ben and NOB on the floor amid the destroyed cake, me standing over them, a tableau of despair.
As the curtain was drawn back, I closed my eyes.
Three. Two. One.
“Is someone going to explain to me why there are two men in the middle of my wedding cake?”
“Oh, no,” I heard Jeremy say. “They were meant to jump out of the top.”
“Not the time, Jeremy,” Maria replied, faintly.
I looked. The entire wedding party looked back. I couldn’t meet my friends’ eyes.
Sarah was holding the prince and princess figurines. They were snapped apart.
“You,” said Sarah, all cold fury, jabbing the princess at NOB. “Get off my cake and get out of my wedding.” NOB looked as if he might try to charm her but thought better of it. He stood, swiped a bottle of prosecco from the table, and went to saunter through the curtain. Jeremy wrestled the bottle out of his hands and elbowed him through.
“And you.” Sarah pointed the prince at Ben. She shook her head. “You were supposed to be the good one.”
“I am so sorry, Sarah,” Ben said, leaping up and sliding a little, eyes anywhere but on me. He tried to wipe away the icing that was covering him from head to toe, before realizing it was futile. “I will pay for all of this. There’s no fee for your photos. I’m sorry.”
Anette broke away from Maria’s side and walked over to her dad, avoiding standing in the chunks of cake that had fallen off him. She held out her hand. “Come on,” she said heavily, rolling her eyes at the crowd as if he were a naughty child. “This is exactly why we have the no-sugar-before-bed rule.”
There was a little laughter at this.
Shoulders slumped, and with one last apologetic look toward Sarah, Ben limped with his daughter through the curtain.
Alone now, I finally faced my friends.
“Evie,” said Maria. “How could you?”
“I’m sorry,” I began. I’d ruined things for Sarah. Again. My friends deserved an explanation. And yet I couldn’t help looking to where Ben and Anette had disappeared.
“Grovel later,” Jeremy told me. “Go get him now.”
I met Sarah’s eyes, then Maria’s. Jeremy held the curtain back and, hoping Sarah and Maria would forgive me, I gave him a grateful smile and dashed past before anyone could say another word.
Ben and Anette were halfway down the hall, heading for the foyer. “Ben, wait.”
He didn’t slow. I hurried to catch up with them. “This was a mistake,” he said, without turning. “We shouldn’t have come.” My stomach twisted. Anette tugged at his hand.
“Was all of today a mistake?” I asked.
Ben stopped at the double doors, head bowed. Anette looked up at him. “I shouldn’t have agreed to be Sarah’s photographer,” he said.
“Why not?” I demanded.
“Because. Life made sense before we met you, Evie. We were doing just great until you came along.”
“Dad,” said Anette.
He pushed through the door. That is it. I stormed after them into the foyer.
“You should still be a photographer, Ben,” I shouted after him. A staff member behind the front desk put his finger on his lips, and I lowered my voice. “I thought that working this wedding might help you get back to doing what you love. I just wanted to help.”
Ben signed something to Anette. She signed furiously back, but her dad simply gestured to the doors we’d just come through. She jutted her chin before heading back through them, the music briefly pulsing into the foyer as they closed behind her.
“You don’t get to interfere in people’s lives like that, Evie.”
He still wouldn’t face me, so I stood in front of him, my arms folded. “You want to talk about interfering? That fight back there? Trying to get NOB to apologize? And what about the balloons? Sarah’s hen do? I don’t need you to keep rescuing me, Ben.”
“You could have fooled me. Maybe if you weren’t so busy attempting to meet a man you don’t actually have any interest in dating, you’d have time to focus on more important things.”
I blushed furiously, raising my voice. “What is it that bothers you so much about these meet-cutes, Ben? At least I’m doing something with my life. You’re stuck in a rut. Going to Gil’s every single Sunday. Telling yourself that you’re no longer a photographer when you so clearly are. And you know what else you are? You’re a coward, Ben. You aren’t willing to take a chance on something you love, even when it’s right there in front of you.”
I saw the rapid rise and fall of Ben’s chest and he took a step closer to me. “Something I love?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” I replied, flustered.
“Evie?” It was Maria, the anger cooling on her face when she saw us standing there together.
Anette followed behind her, dragging a bag. “I got your camera stuff, Dad.” When Ben didn’t answer, she did the okay sign. He shook himself and went to meet her, shouldering the bag and taking her hand.
They reached the main doors and, just for a moment, Ben hesitat
ed, as though he might say something, before pushing through them and out into the night.
I felt a warm hand on my arm.
Maria. But I couldn’t face her right now.
“Come back inside,” she said.
“I can’t. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I ruined everything.” I wiped my eyes and backed away. “Enjoy the rest of the evening. I love you. Please just tell everyone . . . If they ask, tell everyone I’m sorry.”
Chapter 38
JEMS
INT: EVIE’S CHILDHOOD BEDROOM—SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 7:23 P.M.
EVIE is burrowed deep in her duvet in a small single bed, working on her laptop. She’s surrounded by tissues. She keeps checking her phone, then putting it back down again. There’s a knock on the door and EVIE’s mother enters, holding a tray with a pot of tea and some jam on toast.
I gave my mum a watery smile as she entered, but kept my swollen eyes on the screen so I could finish ordering the removal van. I’d already let Jane know I was moving out at the end of the month. She’d offered to let me pay her next month’s rent once I got a new job, but I was no longer sure what I wanted. Welcome to rock bottom, Evie.
My mum settled the tray down on my old bedside table.
“I’ve brought you a snack,” she said. “And some tea.” She poured some for us both, then plonked the plate in my lap and handed me the cup, forcing me to sit up. “I think you should try speaking to your friends,” she told me.
I sighed, biting into the toast. My stomach growled and I realized it was the first thing I’d eaten all day. I devoured the whole piece.
“They aren’t talking to me. Mum, I ruined Sarah’s wedding, and I lied to them about NOB.” I’d told my mum everything, and had to practically confiscate her bus pass to prevent her from going to find him. “Sarah barely forgave me for her hen do. They’ll never forgive me for this. I don’t deserve it.”
“Are you sure?” my mum asked, ever the optimist. She busied herself with getting my jumper and jeans out of my case and laying them out on the bed. As if this would somehow encourage me to change out of my pajamas.
Today was the first day since I’d moved to London that the JEMS group chat had been silent. “I’m sure,” I said, tearing the second piece of toast in two. My mum put a bra and my brush on the little pile on my bed, glanced over at me, then added some deodorant and a toothbrush.
“I really think you should at least try to speak to them. After all, it would be rude to leave them waiting.”
It took me a few seconds to register what she’d just said. “What?” I asked.
“Especially when they’ve all made such an effort to be here,” my mum said.
I scrambled up, grabbing my clothes. “Mum!”
* * *
I entered the living room to find my friends all squeezed onto my mum’s squashy two-seater sofa, holding cups of tea.
“Hi,” I said, trying a smile. Sarah was in the middle, somehow retaining her bridal glow in a smart shirt with faded jeans. Jeremy nodded at me. I couldn’t read Maria’s expression.
“Evie,” said Jeremy formally. “Come in. We all have something to say to you. It won’t take long.”
“Because I have an early flight,” said Sarah.
I shuffled inside, dread churning in my stomach. I could hear my mum in the kitchen, making a lot of noise to indicate she was giving us privacy, though not so much that she couldn’t listen in. I searched Maria’s face for clues as to how this was going to go. When no one spoke, I rushed to fill the silence.
“I know how awful I’ve been,” I said. “I should have told you about NOB. I should never have let it go that far yesterday. Sarah, all of you, I’m so sorry.”
“You have been a terrible friend,” Sarah said bluntly. “You destroyed my cake. We had to get a dozen Victoria sponge cakes from Tesco. Jim’s sister took the rest of my wedding photos. But what’s worse,” she said, voice softening, “is that I wanted my best friend at my wedding, Evie. You left.”
“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” I said, appalled at myself. “I’ve been awful. Totally thoughtless. I wasn’t there for you.”
“You haven’t been there for months,” Maria said.
“Completely self-absorbed,” Jeremy added.
“And lied to us,” Maria finished.
“I know,” I said, distraught at the hurt in their expression. “I won’t do it again. And I promise nothing really happened with NOB. Maria, you saw that photo of me on the red carpet. That pretty much said it all.”
“We’ve all seen the photo,” Jeremy assured me.
“I should have told you the truth,” I said miserably. “But I knew what you’d say. And you’d have been right. It was all over before Sarah’s wedding, I promise. I had no idea he would turn up yesterday. I should never have spoken to him. I should have made him leave straight away.” I looked at each of my friends in turn. “I know I don’t deserve it, but . . . do you think you can ever forgive me?”
I held my arms tightly around myself, bracing myself for what they’d say. They were my family. I didn’t know what I’d do without them.
“Absolutely not,” said Sarah and I fought back tears, throat burning. I’d messed things up too badly.
Jeremy elbowed her.
“We were all ready to talk terms. The silent treatment. Drinks on you for a year. The whole works,” said Jeremy. He gave the tiniest of smiles. “We made a list.”
“Then your mum got in touch,” said Maria.
“She explained everything to us. We know what that cockhat did to you with the script,” Jeremy said. He looked at Sarah. “Incidentally, that’s what I’m calling that thing you made me wear during the wedding.”
“We also know you quit your job,” said Sarah, ignoring him. “And that you’re moving back in with your mother.” She wrinkled her nose. “You made it really hard to hold a grudge.”
I stared at them all, hardly daring to believe it. “Does that mean . . .”
“Get over here,” Jeremy ordered. He and Maria stood up. She held out her arms, eyes shimmering.
There was a pause. “Fine,” Sarah said, standing too. “Though you’re paying for that cake.”
I found myself in the center of a hug I’d been needing for a long time.
“You guys,” I said, my mouth buried in someone’s hair. “You really had me terrified for a minute there.”
“We know,” Jeremy said.
They pulled me down onto the small sofa between them.
“Thank you for being here for me. Again,” I said. “I know it’s my fault for keeping things from you, but even though we’ve seen each other, I’ve really missed you.”
“Evie Doris Summers,” Maria said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Of course we’re here. You stop the world when your friend needs you.”
The tears I’d been holding back started to flow. I’d been so focused on what I wanted, that I hadn’t been there for them. And here they were, turning up for me.
“The things I’d say to that man if I ever saw him again,” Maria seethed, eyes going distant. “Thinking he can just steal your script and pass it off as his own. What an arrogant, entitled arsehole.”
“He’s worse than that,” said Sarah. “He’s yet another man who’s being allowed to take credit for a woman’s work as if it’s nothing. And it isn’t nothing.” She looked at me. “So what are we going to do about it?”
“I don’t know yet,” I confessed. “I’ve told him and Monty I deserve credit, and they’ve both refused.”
“Maybe,” said Sarah, her voice uncharacteristically gentle, “it shouldn’t be their decision.”
“Whatever you decide to do,” Maria told me, holding my hand, “we’re so proud of you. You’re writing again, and those a-holes can’t take that away from you.”
I laughed, dabbing at m
y eyes with my sleeve. “I don’t intend to let them.”
Jeremy reached into a canvas bag by the sofa. “We did have another reason for being here.” He put something on the table.
Anette’s camera.
“We need to show you something,” Maria said.
Sarah turned the camera on and pressed play on a video. Anette came into focus. She was wearing the red-and-white dress from the wedding and looking over her shoulder. I could hear Ben’s and my voices raised in anger through the doors behind her.
“Hi, Evie, I hope you find this,” she said, coming close to the lens, her voice hushed. “I have to be quick, but I wanted to tell you something. It’s about my dad, Benjamin Michael Williams.” She enunciated his whole name. Jeremy got out his phone. “And that’s this. The thing is, there used to be three of us, and we took on the whole world together. Then a bad thing happened and it was just the two of us. The bad thing scared him. He didn’t want it to happen again, so we stopped having adventures. This kept his awesome daughter safe, but, after a while, he forgot that to live is an awfully big adventure.” She pointed a small finger at the camera. “That’s you, Evie. You’re the adventure.” She whipped her head around. I could clearly be heard shouting, “You’re a coward, Ben.” I flushed. Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. Got to go. Remember: Benjamin Michael Williams.” The screen went dark.
I sat staring at it for a moment. Maria put her arm around me, giving me a moment to process it.
“Do you want to look him up?” said Jeremy. “Maria made us wait for you to decide.”
Did I? I might never even see Ben again. So why do I still want to know? I nodded. Jeremy showed me his phone, and we all huddled around.
He’d already found a website for Benjamin Michael Williams Photography. There were more of those brilliant, heart-stopping images I’d seen before. “He’s displayed in galleries all over the world. Look at the prices on these things!” Jeremy said. My friends all ushered me out of the way so they could ogle. “Evie.” His tone was reverential. “Your boy’s rich.”
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