But you don’t realize, do you? The moment happens, and you make your crucial mistake, and then it’s gone and the chance to do anything about it is blown away.
---------------------------
The thing about panic is, it creeps up on you. One minute you’re still quite calm, still telling yourself, Don’t be ridiculous.
------------------------
My phone’s my life. I can’t exist without it. It’s a vital organ.
------------------
He’s engaged. Interesting. As I read the words over again, I feel a strange little reaction inside which I can’t quite place—surprise? Although why should I be surprised? I don’t even know the guy.
------------------
“Are you allergic to typing or something?”
----------------
OK. I know I’ve been nosy. But once you start reading other people’s emails, you can’t stop. You have to know what’s happened.
------------------
Honestly. What am I, his PA?
---------------------
“You might have something,” “You might just have something.”
----------------------
I know he’s trying to be kind. But there’s something about the way he says it that stings me.
----------------------
And he had a point. Once you’ve started cheating, does it matter what your methods are?
-------------------------
The phone almost immediately bleeps with a reply:You made me spill my drink. I giggle and text back:
Be afraid!!!!
---------------------
- What are you doing up so late? - Can’t sleep. What are YOU doing up so late?
-Waiting to speak to a guy in LA. Why can’t you sleep?
-My life ends tomorrow.
-I can see how that might keep you up. Why does it end?
-I owe you one.
-I could get you a chip.
-------------------
This is odd, talking face-to-face. I’m distracted by seeing the contours of his brow and his hair rippling in the breeze. It was easier by text. I wonder if he feels the same way.
-----------------
“You’re so abrupt! Your emails are so short! They’re awful!”
---------------------
“OK,” says Sam at last. “Let’s just get things straight. In the first place, borrowing this phone does not give you a license to read and critique my emails.” He hesitates. “In the second place, short is good.”
---------------------
I did some Googling last night, and I’m totally on top of the whole subject of Sam’s company. I know everything. I could go on Mastermind. I could do a PowerPoint presentation.
-----------------
I’ll have to admit, he does have quite a smile. Kind of heart-stopping, especially as it comes out of nowhere. I mean … you know. If your heart was in the kind of place to be stopped.
---------------------
I should never, ever have cheated. This is karma. This is my punishment. Anyway, too late. I did.
--------------------
The awkward pause. I stare at the stone floor, counting down the seconds, waiting patiently for it to pass.
How many awkward pauses have I caused in the last ten years? It’s always the same. No one knows where to look. No one knows what to say. At least this time no one’s trying to give me a hug.
-------------------
Without meaning to, I find myself beaming back and even catch my breath a little. It really does something to me, that smile of his. It’s disconcerting. It’s …
-----------------
“I have something to say, Poppy Wyatt. I should have said it before. And that’s thank you. You’ve been a great help to me, these past few days.”
-----------------------
“It’s quite funny, actually, if you see it that way—”
-----------------
“An e-card of condolence for a dog,” says Sam at last, in a strange voice. “Yes, I’m pretty amazed at myself.” He’s staring straight at me. It’s not the most friendly of expressions.
--------------------
I almost don’t dare look at Sam, I feel so guilty.
---------------
Trying to think of all the different words for sorry that I can.
----------------
I’ve got used to this phone now. I like the feel of it. I’ve even got used to sharing my in-box.
---------------
“But it seems to me you can’t—you shouldn’t—go into a marriage feeling inferior in any way.”
---------------
But … it’s weird. This time doesn’t seem to be awkward. Sam hasn’t looked away. He hasn’t cleared his throat or gasped or changed the subject.
---------------
“It does not. It happened years ago and it’s over and I’m a grown-up and I’ve dealt with it, OK? So
you’re wrong. It doesn’t explain anything.”
----------------
“I know what it’s like. You don’t just get over it. And it doesn’t make any difference if you’re supposedly a grown-up. It never goes away.”
---------------
“What?” I laugh out loud with surprise. “Of course not. I don’t want to confront anybody.”
Sam spreads his hands. “There you go. There’s your problem.”
--------------
“I saw a girl who races to help others but doesn’t help herself. And right now you need to help yourself. No one should walk up the aisle feeling inferior or in a different league or trying to be something they’re not. I don’t know exactly who your issues are with, but … ”
---------------------
But you have to do it. You have to get it out there.
------------
This really is the last goodbye. It’s going to be odd, not being in Sam’s life anymore.
------------
I’ve never been physically thrown out of anywhere in my life. I didn’t think they were allowed to do that.
----------------
As hecatches me gazing at him, I quickly look away.
---------------
But you do useful, valuable work every day. You don’t need to prove anything.
---------------
Whereas Sam is so … straight and strong. And generous. And kind. You just know he’d always be there for you, whatever.
----------------
I’m blushing. I’m blushing at my own stupid, nonsensical, meaningless thought process, which, by the way, nobody knows about except me. So I can relax. I can stop this now and drop the ridiculous idea that Sam can read my mind and knows I fancy him— No. Stop. Stop. That’s ridiculous. This is just— Erase the word fancy. I do not. I do not.
---------------
Hi. How are you doing? P No kisses.
Hi means, Hi, have you been unfaithful? Have you? Please, PLEASE don’t let this be true.
How means, I really wish you’d ring me. I know you’re on your stag do, but it would reassure me so much just to hear your voice and know that you love me and you couldn’t do such a thing.
Are means, Oh God, I can’t bear it. What if it’s true? What will I do? What will I say?But, then, what if it’s NOT true and I’ve suspected you for no good reason—
---------------
It’s amazing how different voices are, once you start to pay attention.
-------------
“Poppy, cool it,” he mutters. “You’re getting too emotional.” “Well, you’re staying too calm!” I feel like
exploding. “You’re too stoic!” “You know something, Sam? You’re turning into stone.”
---------------
I’ve never felt so stupid in all my life.
--------------
I am never interfering in anyone’s emails ever, ever again.
-----------
All this time I’ve thought I could see Sam’s entire life. But it wasn’t his entire life, was it?
It was one in-box. And I judged him on it. He has friends. He has a life. He has a relationship with his family. He has a whole load of stuff I have no idea about. I was an idiot if I thought I’d got to know the whole story. I know a single chapter. That’s all.
----------------
I blink at it in amazement. This is the longest text Sam has ever sent me, by approximately 2,000 percent.
--------------
:)
I stare in disbelief. A smiley face. Sam Roxton typed a smiley face!
-------------
It’s true; with him on the other end, I do feel secure
--------------
Look for me. I’m coming.
------------
But somehow I can’t loosen my fingers. I feel as though the harder I grip, the more I’m connected to Sam. I feel as though I’m holding his hand. And I don’t want to let go. I don’t want this to end. Even though I’m stumbling and cold and in the middle of nowhere. We’re in a place that we won’t ever be again.
---------------
I’m glad it was your phone I picked up....So am I....It’s been good. Weird but good. Weird but good would sum it up, yes. :) He sent another smiley face! I don’t believe it!
-----------
I’ve never sent kisses to Sam, it occurs to me. Not once. Strange. Well, I can make up for that now. I’m almost giggling as I press the X button down firmly.
:*************
A moment later his reply arrives: :**************
Ha! With a snuffle of laughter, I type aneven longer row of kisses.
:**************
******************
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
:******* :) :***** :)
------------
But my feet are rooted to the spot. I can’t bring myself to move. Because as soon as I do, it will be time to be polite and matter-of-fact and back to normal. And I can’t bear that. I want to stay here. In the place where we can say anything to each other. In the magic spell.
----------
I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where I’m going with this. Except … I do. Of course I do. Because as his hands gently cup my waist, I don’t make a sound. As he swivels me around to face him, I don’t make a sound. And as his stubble rasps my face, I don’t make a sound. I don’t need to. We’re still talking. Every touch he makes, every imprint of his skin is like another word, another thought, a continuation of our conversation. And we’re not done yet. Not yet.
-----------
I can’t believe what just happened. Already it seems like a dream. Something impossible.
--------------
I look up and make the mistake of catching his eye, silvered in the light from the street-lamp.
And just for a moment I’m transported— No. Don’t, Poppy. It never happened. Don’t think about it. Blank it.
------------
As it rounds the corner, I check my phone, half-hoping, half-expecting …
But it’s dark and silent. It remains dark and silent. And for the first time in a long while, I feel utterly alone.
-----------
His voice feels like a blast of sunshine in my ear. There’s so much I want to say. But I can’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.
-------------
Number two, because who is he? Not a friend. Not a colleague. Just some random guy who has no place in my life. It’s over. The only place for us to go from here is goodbye.
------------
My perfect fiancé isn’t perfect after all. He’s a lying, unfaithful, commitment-phobic flake.
-----------
I don’t want the highest-tech phone available. I want that phone. Our phone. I want to keep it safe, not give it up to be hacked about by technicians. But … what can I say?
--------------
No. Stop it, Poppy. Don’t go there. Don’t remember, or wonder, or …
---------------
I can’t read Sam. I don’t know what I expect or want. We’re two people who were briefly thrown together by chance and are now conducting a business transaction. That’s all. What on earth am I expecting him to say?
---------------
“You have a good memory.” I shrug. “What else do you remember?”
-----------------
“Wow.” I can’t believe how many pieces of paper he’s holding. I surely can’t have sent that many texts and emails? I mean, I’ve only had the phone for a matter of days.
----------------
That feels like a million years ago now.
His face is impassive. I have no idea if he felt anything, reading those texts.
------------------
The phone’s gone. These printouts are the only record of that weird and wonderful time. Of course I want them.
---------------
“You’re not over her, are you?” I feel a raw hurt as the truth hits me. Why didn’t I realize this before?
You’d take my side.” My voice is trembling,and I have a dreadful feeling that my cheeks are turning pink.
---------------
Because of reasons I could never tell him. Reasons I can’t even admit to myself. My stomach is churning with humiliation. Who was I kidding?
---------------
“You have no right to comment on something you understand nothing about—” “Oh, I’m sorry!” I give a sarcastic little laugh. “You’re right. I don’t even begin to understand you two. Maybe you’ll get back together, and I hope you’ll be very happy.”
--------------
I don’t think I’m capable of calm. I feel erratic and out of control. All sorts of deep dark feelings are coming to the surface. I hadn’t fully admitted my hopes to myself. I hadn’t realized quite how much I’d assumed …
Anyway. I’ve been a deluded fool and I need to get out of here as quickly as possible.
---------------
who I’m most furious at I’m not sure. Maybe myself.
------------
There are moments in life that the white chocolate Magnum ice cream was invented
for, and this is one of them.
--------------
“Is that what you expect out of a man? Perfection? You want a flawless man? Because, believe me, that man doesn’t exist.
----------
My heart skips a beat. I sent Sam my new number this afternoon, just so that he had it. And at the last minute I added, Sorry about this afternoon, with a couple of kisses. Simply to clear the air. Now he’s answering me. At midnight. What does he want to say? With trembling fingers, my thoughts veering onto wild possibilities, I click on the message.
---------------
I feel a sting of humiliation as I read the words.
-------------
Well, he couldn’t be any clearer than that, could he? I was so stupid. What did I think?
---------------
OK. I’m feeling better. The iPhone dings with a new text, and I pick it up to see what Annalise has replied—But it’s from Sam Mobile. For a few instants I can’t move. My stomach is moiling around as though I’m a teenager. Oh God. This is pathetic. It’s mortifying. I see the word Sam and I go to pieces. Half of me wants to ignore it. What do I care what he’s got to say? Why should I give one iota of head space or time to him, when it’s my wedding day and I have other things to focus on? But I know I’ll never get through the wedding with an unopened text burning a hole in my iPhone. I open it as calmly as I can, bearing in mind that my fingers can hardly function—and it’s a one-word Sam special. "Hi." Hi? What’s that supposed to mean, for
God’s sake?
-----------------
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?
--------------
It’s gone through the ether. Now he knows. I’ll probably never hear from him again afterthis. That’s it. It was a strange little encounter between two people, and this is the end.
-----------------------
----------------
I want to scream at him. It’s not fair. He can’t say all this now. He can’t shake me up now.
---------------
This is my real life. Not some guy I’m connected to through theether. It’s time to say goodbye. It’s time to cut this thread.
--------------
If I look like I’m sick, then he looks like he’s got malaria.
--------------
If I could go back in time, I’d do it differently. But I can’t. It’s now or never.
----------------
This was never about him and me, it was about proving a point.
---------
“Let me tell you why. As a clever man once said: A treasure such as this should not be left in the hands of Philistines. And Poppy is a treasure, though she doesn’t realize it.”
--------------
“Lover? I don’t know. I don’t know if she loves me. I don’t know if I love her.”
Deep down inside, I feel a crushing disappointment. Of course he doesn’t love me.
“All I can say is, she’s the one I think about.” “All the time. She’s the voice I want to hear. She’s the face I hope to see.”
---------
My throat is full of lumps. I’m swallowing desperately, trying to keep my composure.
He’s the one I think about. All the time. He’s the voice I want to hear. When my phone bleeps, I hope it’s him.
-----------
“He’s just … a guy. I found his phone… .”
------------
There he is. On the other side of the road.
------------
I see his face expand into the most brilliant, joyous smile. And finally he looks up at me.
---------
“He’s the one, isn’t he?”
--------
“I always wear a wedding dress for coffee dates. I think it adds a nice touch, don’t you?”
------------
But right now I’m entwined with a man I think I might love. And I haven’t married the man I know I don’t love.
--------------
He must have just sent it a few seconds ago. Without looking at him, I open it to see: <3
------------
It’s a heart. He sent me a love heart. Without even saying anything. Like a little secret.
-------------
I want to add more … but, no. More can come later.
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