Finding Mr Perfectly Fine

Part Four

Autumn

Chapter 27

I feel nervous going back to work after that life-changing week in Dubai, and not only because I’m suddenly so out of sync with it all, or even because I’m engaged (!!!) but because it’s finally time to face Adam. It’s been seven days since I saw him last; and during this time we haven’t exchanged a single message. I don’t know what he’s thinking, feeling or doing (other than Fran, of course) and the fact that I still care makes me feel foolish.

I haven’t been able to work up the courage to tell Hamza about the you-know-what, and as more time goes by, I’m beginning to think I don’t need to. The pressing urge to confess has passed and Adam ignoring me has made it easier for me to pretend it never happened.

It’s only quarter to nine when I finally enter the office, and I’m pleased to find that I’m the first one in. I’m about to set my bag down on my desk when I notice that it’s covered in a sheen of dust, so I give it a quick wipe first. Apart from that, everything looks exactly as I left it.

After I’ve brewed myself some tea, I power up my computer and start the tedious task of going through all 397 of my emails.

‘Hi, Zara! Welcome back!’ Francesca is the next person from my team to arrive, at exactly twenty-eight minutes past nine, looking like she’s the one who’s returned from holiday, not me. ‘I love your tan! I wish I could turn that brown but I never get darker than this.’ She gestures to her caramel skin and I smile through gritted teeth.

‘Glad to be back,’ I lie, still unable to look at her the same way now that I know that Adam has gone where he said he never would. And whatever happened to Nathan, anyway? ‘There are some sweets and stuff in the pantry that I picked up for you guys. Please help yourself.’

‘Thanks, will do. Where did you go? Kevin said something about a family emergency?’

‘Dubai. Family business stuff, but we sorted it out.’ I didn’t want to tempt fate and say that someone had died or was seriously ill, so with Sabs’ help, I decided to keep it vague with ‘business’, which is hopefully uninteresting enough for anyone to probe into.

The door swings open and my heart leaps into my throat, but it’s Kevin. We make small talk and I say the ‘family business’ thing again, and I’m about to get up and make another tea to calm myself down, when the door opens once more and this time, it’s him. I get a whole second of staring at him unabashedly, before he raises his eyes from fiddling around with his helmet and notices me. He looks gorgeous, golden and dishevelled, in a white T-shirt and khaki combats.

Our eyes connect and my heart squeezes as I drink in all the emotions swimming at the surface of his pupils; the confusion, the worry, the anger, the desire, the concern. And then it all dissolves into complete indifference and I can see him physically shut down, like I’m watching a computer turn off.

‘Hey, welcome back,’ he says smoothly, tossing his helmet onto his desk and sliding into his chair.

And that’s it.

No, ‘How are you?’ no, ‘Where have you been?’ no, ‘Is everything OK, I heard there was an emergency?’

My stomach plummets to the bottom of my pumps, the disappointment excruciating. My eyes begin to sting so I turn away and hide in the pantry, where I can take a moment to compose myself. I know I’m being a sensitive wimp for feeling like this, I have no right to expect anything from Adam, especially as I’m betrothed to someone else. But what you’re supposed to feel, and what you actually feel, are sometimes contradictory sensations, battling for space in your already muddled mind.

As the water in the kettle bubbles away, I get my act together and decide that the best thing to do would be to follow Adam’s lead. I force myself to keep my demeanour impassive and professional, all the while wilting inside.

I call a team meeting, instructing them all to get their updates ready beforehand. I keep it concise and professional; there are no jokes, no irrelevant conversations, no concessions. When Francesca admits she hasn’t sourced a venue for the autumn book fair when it was supposed to be done two weeks ago, I call her up on it. And when Adam reveals that he’s late on a poster design for no good reason, I do the same. By the end of the meeting, the mood in the office is sombre but instead of feeling like a powerful bosswoman, I feel like crap.

The rest of the week passes by in a similar manner. Without anyone to gossip with or take extended coffee breaks with, I’m flying through all my work. I haven’t been wearing my ring to work, though. For starters, I don’t want my ‘emergency’ week off to look like I really disappeared to get engaged. I also don’t think I’m ready for the grilling I’ll get from Francesca. At this point, I doubt that Adam will even care.

Hamza’s been so busy all week that we’ve barely had a chance to catch up, apart from a few texts here and there. I want to tell him that I’ve told my mum, but don’t want to do it by text while he’s in a meeting or client dinner, so decide to wait until we talk to each other.

He calls me while my sisters, Mum, Nani and I are watching an old episode of Married at First Sight. They’ve been making me watch marriage-related movies and shows all week. Yasmin seems to think that I could use all the expert opinions on marital issues that I can get. Every time I enter the room, one of them will start humming the ‘Wedding March’, or ‘Chamiya’ from the movie Dulhan Hum le Jayenge.

‘I still can’t believe you’re getting married.’ Yasmin sighs woefully as we watch a beautiful bride walk down the aisle to meet her match for the first time. ‘It’s not going to be the same without you.’

‘When I take your room, I think I’ll go for a more dramatic colour scheme,’ Amina the scavenger says, earning a scowl from me. We haven’t fixed a date and she’s already planning on taking my place.

‘Look at these women, marrying men they don’t know,’ Mum muses, enthralled by the TV programme. ‘It’s exactly the same as it was back in my day, when marriages were more successful and there were less divorces. These days you girls have it so much easier, all this getting to know each other nonsense, yet the divorce rate is higher than ever.’

‘The only reason people didn’t get divorced back then was because of the stigma, not because they were happier,’ Amina argues. ‘The success of a marriage is based on happiness, not how long you stick it out for!’

Hamza calls then, saving me from my family, and my sisters whistle and cheer as I answer the call and leave the room.

‘Guess what?’ I tell him once I’m safely away from prying ears and he’s filled me in on his week.

‘What?’

‘I told my family about you.’