Page 11 of You Were Always the One

From the start, on a practical level, we worked together. Since breaking up with Holly, I still hadn’t met anyone. But with Emma, I contemplated that I was ready to settle down. She was gorgeous, not to mention sexy, her independent streak matching mine, so that I could imagine us ticking along together. I proposed six months after we met. Yes, it was soon, but what was the point in waiting, I figured. Then three years ago, we married on a beach in Majorca in front of our parents and twenty of our closest friends, Emma looking stunning in a fitted ivory dress. Me in a slightly crumpled white shirt. After, we drank champagne and danced on the beach; we were still there, still dancing, when the night came to an end and the sun came up.

Since, admittedly the romance has faded. But life isn’t endless dancing on sun-kissed beaches; doesn’t that happen to all of us? And Emma and I have had each other’s backs – until now.

But seeing Holly has dredged up the feelings I used to have. Feelings I know I’ve never had for Emma. Were Holly and I meant to cross paths that day in Covent Garden? Or was it another celestial fuck up, on the scale of the one that broke us up all those years ago? That’s how I’ve always seen it. But just a minute here, Riggs… You know why you and Holly broke up. Of all the dates, on April Fool’s Day. She wanted more… And here you are, eighteen years later – eighteen years and two days, to be precise – about to let it happen all over again, and for exactly the same reason: that you’re living in a bit of a dreamworld and can’t offer the security that Emma needs.

Never mind what’s going on in my own life. When Holly’s married, how am I even thinking like this? Bottom line, I have no idea what to think. Work, Riggs, I tell myself. Use your brain constructively. Words on the page. Enough of the over-embellished daydreams and ludicrous fantasies.

Fantasies? But I’d be lying – again – if I denied it. You see, I have just one. Yes. Already. Call it my writer’s overactive imagination. It has Holly centre stage, and everyone around us is OK. No fallout, no hurt. Just magically amicable agreements between us and our exes, so that at last, Holly and I are free to be together.

In my head, there’s a sound like a needle scratching on vinyl. It brings me to my senses. Get real, Riggs. It’s never going to happen. Not that way, at least.

Dragging myself back to reality, I spend the rest of the day furiously writing. But that evening, something does happen. The quietest vibration through the sofa on which I’ve almost fallen asleep.

A message from Holly.

Suddenly I’m wide awake. Reading it, I’m aware of my heart starting to race, of the smile spreading across my face.

It seems unbelievable but Holly only lives about eight miles from me and we arrange to meet for a coffee.

‘I didn’t think you were going to reply,’ I say awkwardly as I sit down with our drinks. ‘I did rather put you on the spot.’

‘I almost didn’t,’ she says. ‘It feels like going behind Miles’s back.’ She pauses. ‘Does your wife know we’re meeting?’

‘She’s at work,’ I say evasively. It isn’t the time to broach the subject of our ailing marriage. ‘She’s away – she’s cabin crew.’

She gazes at me in that way I never could resist. ‘Riggs? What are we doing here?’

I shrug. ‘We’re just old friends. Catching up,’ I say inadequately. Untruthfully. ‘How come we haven’t bumped into each other before? I mean, we only live a few miles from each other.’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’ A look I can’t read crosses her face – or maybe I can read it, and she’s holding back, a thought that’s rather depressing. ‘Eighteen years is a long time, isn’t it?’ She pauses. ‘What’s your wife like?’

‘Emma?’ I look at her, not sure why I’m surprised she’s asking. ‘She’s younger than me – she has long fair hair. I suppose you’d call her glamorous.’ As I list off Emma’s attributes, I can’t help thinking how matter of fact I sound. Then my voice changes. ‘But actually, it hasn’t worked out. She’s moving out. I guess the next thing will be getting a divorce.’

Holly looks shocked. ‘I’m sorry, Riggs. I had no idea.’

‘You couldn’t have known. The thing is…’ I feel myself frown. ‘It’s sad. Of course it is. But we’re completely on the same page. It’s like we both know it’s over between us.’

One coffee turns into two, then a glass of wine. Then lunch as, slowly, we catch up on each other’s lives.

‘How long have you been married?’ Holly asks.

‘Three years. We probably shouldn’t have,’ I say. ‘But at least, once this is behind us, Emma will meet someone else.’ I frown as it occurs to me that she perhaps already has. That this is why she’s making it so easy.

‘So will you,’ Holly says softly.

I already have, I want to tell her. It’s you, Holls. It’s only ever been you. ‘We’ll see,’ I say instead. In dangerous territory, I change the subject. ‘How old are your kids?’

‘Max is nearly fifteen, Grace is twelve.’ She gets out her phone and brings up a photo. ‘This is them.’ She passes it to me.

I notice the likeness between them, that they have her eyes. ‘They look like you,’ I say, passing her phone back. I always saw her with kids. But it was with my kids. Not someone else’s.

‘They are the best thing in my life.’ Her eyes seem to glow as she talks about them. ‘You don’t have any?’ she asks.

I shake my head. ‘Emma wasn’t in a hurry to have them. Which is just as well, given what’s happened.’ It would have complicated everything a million times over, instead of which, it’s really remarkably simple.

Her eyes cloud over. ‘I suppose it does make it simpler. Once you have kids, you forget about yourself. All you think about is wanting to protect them.’

I frown slightly. Wonder what’s happened to mean she’s thought about that. ‘So what is it you do?’ I ask instead.