Not really.
I’ll be brief, then. You were right and I was wrong.
I stare at his words, perplexed. Right about what? Slowly, I type:
What do you mean?
Almost immediately, his reply dings into the iPhone.
About Willow. You were right and I was wrong. I’m sorry I reacted badly. I didn’t want you to be right, but you were. I spoke to her.
What did you say?
Told her it was over, finito. Stop the emails or I’ll take out a stalking injunction.
He didn’t. I can’t believe it.
How did she react?
She was pretty shocked.
I bet.
There’s silence for a while. A fresh text from Annalise has arrived on my iPhone, but I don’t open it. I can’t bear to break the thread between Sam and me. I’m gripping my iPhone tightly, peering at the screen, waiting to see if he’ll text again. He has to text again …
And then there’s a beep.
Can’t be an easy day for you. Today was supposed to be the wedding day, right?
My insides seem to plunge. What do I answer? What?
Yes.
Well, here’s something to cheer you up.
Cheer me up? I’m peering at the screen, puzzled, when a photo text suddenly arrives, which makes me laugh in surprise. It’s a picture of Sam sitting in a dentist’s chair. He’s smiling widely and wearing a cartoon sticker on his lapel that says, I was a good dental patient!!
He did that for me, flashes through my head before I can stop it. He went to the dentist for me.
No. Don’t be stupid. He went for his teeth. I hesitate, then type:
You’re right, that did cheer me up. Well done. About time!
An instant later he replies:
Are you free for a cup of coffee?
And to my horror, with no warning, tears start pressing at my eyes. How can he call now and ask me for a cup of coffee? How can he not realize that things have moved on? What did he think I would do? As I type, my thumbs are jerky and agitated.
You brushed me off.
What?
You sent me the brush off email.
I never send emails, you know that. Must have been my PA. She’s too efficient.
He didn’t send it?
OK, now I can’t cope. I’m going to cry, or laugh hysterically, or something. I had it all sorted in my mind. I knew where everything was and where everything stood. Now my head’s a maelstrom again.
The iPhone beeps with a follow-up text from Sam:
You’re not offended, are you?
I close my eyes. I have to explain. But what do I—How do I—
At last, without even opening my eyes, I text:
You don’t understand.
What don’t I understand?
I can’t bear to type the words. Somehow I just can’t do it. Instead, I stretch out my arm as far as it will go, take a photo of myself, then examine the result.
Yes. It’s all there in the shot: my veil, my headdress, a glimpse of my wedding dress, the corner of my lily bouquet. There’s absolutely no doubt as to what’s going on.
I press Sam Mobile and then send. There. It’s gone through the ether. Now he knows. I’ll probably never hear from him again after this. That’s it. It was a strange little encounter between two people, and this is the end. With a sigh, I sink down into the chair. The bells above have stopped pealing, and there’s a strange, still quietness in the room.
Until suddenly the beeps start. Frantic and continuous, like an emergency siren. I pick up my iPhone in shock, and they’re stacking up in my in-box: text after text after text, all from Sam.
No.
No no no no no.
Stop.
You can’t.
Are you serious?
Poppy, why?
My breaths are short and ragged as I read his words. I wasn’t intending to get into a conversation, but at last I can’t stand it anymore, I have to reply.
What do you expect, I just walk away? 200 people are sitting here waiting.
Immediately, Sam’s reply comes firing back:
You think he loves you?
I twist the ring of gold strands round and round my right-hand finger, trying desperately to find a path through all the contradictory thoughts thrusting their way into my head. Does Magnus love me? I mean … what is love? No one knows what love is, exactly. No one can define it. No one can prove it. But if someone chooses a ring especially for you in Bruges, that’s got to be a good start, hasn’t it?
Yes.
I think Sam must have been poised for my answer, his replies comes shooting back so quickly, three in a row.
No.
You’re wrong.
Stop. Stop. Stop. No. No.
I want to scream at him. It’s not fair. He can’t say all this now. He can’t shake me up now.
Well, what I am supposed to do???
I send it just as the door opens. It’s the Reverend Fox, followed by Toby, Tom, Annalise, and Ruby, all talking at once in an excited babble.
