“But Gordy will want to go. And he won’t want to go without you. If more time had passed and I was married or at least dating someone, I’d definitely go.” If nothing else, I’d love to see Karen’s face when she got my RSVP.
“There was a schedule that came with the invitation,” Florence said.
I frowned. I’d been so focused on the white card that looked so much like the one I would have chosen, I’d forgotten about the email.
“It’s like a week-long thing up in Scotland.”
I slumped back in my chair, grateful that my jacket covered the mole-hill sized goosebumps that popped up all over my arms. “His uncle’s castle?” I asked.
Florence nodded and the dull churning in my stomach kicked up a gear like an idling car put into drive.
“That’s where he always said he wanted to get married.” We’d visited last summer and hiked, ridden horses, slept under the stars. It had been amazing. Magical even.
“He’s a ginormous wanker,” Florence said.
Matt Gordon was having the life he and I had always planned—with someone else.
Four
Stella
I stared into the glass of wine Florence had put in front of me. She’d found an excuse to be passing by my office every day since she’d told me about Matt and Karen, which meant I wasn’t drinking alone.
The same bar. A fresh glass of wine.
The last three weeks had been like being stuck in a fog where I couldn’t see anything, think about anything other than Karen and Matt. It was the fog of betrayal.
I’d been going into the office, but I didn’t remember doing anything other than logging on at the beginning of the day and logging off at the end of the day.
I still didn’t have the answers to any of the endless questions I had.
“You two should go and then you can report back on how awful it is and how tasteless her dress is,” I said. Poor Florence. Doubtless she was bored of my endless rumination about what had happened. I wanted to snap out of it. To think about something else. But I was just stuck in this awful no-man’s-land where I tortured myself with a thousand imagined scenes of Matt and Karen over and over.
Creeping around behind my back.
Laughing about how stupid I was for not realizing it was her he loved. Not me.
Hunched over a calendar trying to find the perfect Saturday to get married.
Putting together a wedding list.
Choosing wedding invitations.
Kissing.
Fucking.
I grabbed my glass of wine and gulped down a mouthful, hoping it would dull my imagination.
“Maybe you should go with a hired hot, sexy stud—like in that film,” Florence said. “The one with the woman from Will and Grace.”
“The Wedding Date?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Seriously. There must be an agency in London. You could even pretend you’re engaged. That way you get to ruin Karen’s big day by shaming her. First for stealing your boyfriend and second for inviting you.”
“What did they put in that wine?” I asked. Florence was an accountant and always dreaming up alternate, more exciting realities for herself. “You know I couldn’t do that.”
“But you should. Karen’s stolen your boyfriend and you don’t want to embarrass her? You need to start putting yourself first. You’re always so focused on everyone else; you need to put your needs at the top of the list.”