I've Got Your Number

OK. Let’s focus on the here and now. The simple act of texting a reply makes me feel more relaxed.

Just arrived.

An instant later she replies:

Argh! Going as quick as we can. Anyway, you’re supposed to be late. It’s good luck. Have you still got your blue garter on?

Annalise was so obsessed by me wearing a blue garter that she brought along three different choices this morning. I’m sorry, what are garters all about? To be frank, I could really do without a length of tight elastic cutting off my leg circulation right now—but I promised her faithfully I’d keep it on.

Of course! Even though my leg will probably fall off. Nice surprise for Magnus on the wedding night.

I smile as I send the text. It’s cheering me up, having this stupid conversation. I put my iPhone down, have a drink of water, and take a deep breath. 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?

Well, I’m not going to be rude. I’ll text back a similarly effusive response.

Hi.

A moment later there’s another ding:

This a good time?

What?

Is he for real? Or is he being sarcastic? Or—

Then I realize. Of course. He thinks I canceled the wedding. He doesn’t know. He has no idea.

And suddenly I see his text in a new light. He’s not making a point. He’s just saying hi.

I swallow hard, trying to work out what to put. Somehow I can’t bear to tell him what I’m doing. Not straight out.

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.