by Beth O'Leary
He gets his phone out. I alternate between staring at the waltzing Krish and Cherry and the exuberant Javier and Luke.
‘Your mum just left your dad?’ Addie says beside me. She gives Luke and Javier a shy smile. ‘Hey again, you two.’
The moment when my brother and his fiancé belatedly clock that Addie and I are holding hands is truly beautiful. They both beam simultaneously, as if on cue, and Luke claps a hand on my shoulder.
‘Oh good,’ Javier says. ‘Dylan writes very lovely poetry but I’m not sure how many poems about heartbreak I can take.’
I reach over to shove him and he giggles, hiding behind Luke.
‘I can introduce you to my mum,’ I say to Addie, looking down at her wonderingly. ‘Without my dad there. That would actually be . . . nice.’
She smiles up at me. ‘I’d like that.’
The first dance is done – or at least, Krishna would like it to be. He is gesturing his best man on to the dance floor with an air of slight desperation; eventually a few couples take pity and the crowd starts to move towards the bride and groom.
‘May I have this dance?’ I ask Addie as the music shifts. It’s another slow-dance song, a slightly more conventional one: Jason Mraz, ‘I Won’t Give Up’.
We walk to the dance floor; Addie links her hands carefully behind my neck and I rest mine on her waist. I look into those river-blue eyes that caught me up from the very first moment I saw them. We sway together as the dance floor fills around us; I lift my head for a moment and see Deb dancing with Kevin, Luke with Javier. Behind them a young woman in a green and pink lehenga pulls a very proper middle-aged lady in a suit on to the dance floor with her, then Marcus is up, too, stretching a hand out to tempt Grace, and Cherry’s father is dancing with Krish’s mum, and it’s a melee of colour and hats and bodies swaying like we’re one moving part.
I look back at Addie’s upturned face. I can hardly believe she’s here; I feel suddenly compelled to count every freckle, to memorise the precise shade of her hair while I still can, and I have to remind myself that she told me she loves me. She’s not going anywhere.
‘What you said earlier about . . .’ I press my lips together, and I watch her gaze shift down to my mouth. ‘I know we said sex might need to be approached a little more carefully, this time, but . . . can I ask where you land on kissing, presently?’
She starts to smile. ‘Kissing?’
‘Just hypothetically.’
‘Well. I haven’t done a great deal of it lately,’ she says, that slow smile growing. ‘But I think I’d be all right with kissing.’
I lower my head just a little, and she lifts her chin in the same moment, as though the threads connecting us have been pulled taut.
‘Want to give it a try?’ I whisper, my lips inches from hers.
She closes the distance between us in answer. And there, on the dance floor, with the mess of our past behind us and a tangle of our friends around us, with her hair shining silver and my heart bright and bursting, I kiss Addie Gilbert for the second first time.
Acknowledgements
Thank you as always to Tanera Simons, who manages to be super-smart and savvy and incredibly kind and supportive. I am enormously grateful for all that you and the team at DAA do for me.
Cindy Hwang, Emma Capron, Cassie Browne – you have made this book so much stronger and deeper (and sexier – I’m looking at you, Emma). I feel so lucky to have you all on my team. To everyone at Quercus and Berkley: thank you for your passion and ingenuity, and for having faith in me. Special thanks to Hannah Robinson, who listened when it really, really mattered.
I have dedicated this novel to my wonderful bridesmaids, Ellen, Nups, Amanda, Maddy and Helen, who were sadly not able to walk with me down the aisle at my wedding, but whose love and support have informed all the sisterhoods in this book. Thank you, guys, for the countless heart-to-hearts, pick-me-ups and cups of tea over the years. I’m really lucky to have you all in my life.
A huge thank you to Gilly for the voice notes, the 43mb chats, and the important discussion of whose dog is big and whose dog is small. You kept me afloat in 2020. Thanks to Pooja for always being so excited when a new word doc lands in your inbox, and for your help with the details. And thanks to Tom, for whom this will always be The Mercedes Book – apologies for ignoring most of the information you gave me. Call it artistic licence.
I’m very grateful to the Taverners for giving such valuable feedback on early drafts of this book. Thanks also to Peter for brainstorming with me in Provence, where much of this story was born. Thank you to Phil, who answered odd questions, and Helen, aka Boob Consultant, who answered even odder ones. Thanks to Colin, who very patiently taught me how to drive. I’m also immeasurably grateful to my parents, who are always there for me, something that I just cannot appreciate enough.
Finally, thank you to my husband, Sam. I love you the way Addie loves Dylan, the way Dylan loves Addie, the way Molly loves pears. Here’s to a lifetime together.
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