‘Me too!’ I say delightedly. ‘It’s always been my favourite.’ I grin at him. ‘You’re so lucky to have me and my one nice boob.’
He frowns. ‘Hey, I’m not saying I don’t like lefty, I really do! I’m just saying there’s no point pretending I don’t have favourites. The right one just has that je ne sais quoi. It’s just got a bit more sass, y’know?’
‘I get it,’ I say, nodding. I do get it, I gethim. Then I sigh heavily, checking the time on my phone. It’s late. ‘They’re still not back.’
He shakes his head, helping himself to more ice cream. ‘No, but maybe that’s a good sign? Like, maybe they found Eliot,the note man, in the library waiting for Jem, and now they’re snogging each other’s faces off and deciding on a favourite boob.’
‘I hope so,’ I say, perking up. ‘I feel a bit bad about not going along with them all. Do you think we were really out of order?’
‘I feel zero guilt,’ Harry says happily, squeezing righty again. He pauses and looks up. ‘But I think it’s really nice that you’re worrying about Jemma.’ He smiles softly. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you’d have given not going along a second thought a few months ago.’
I hit him lightly with a pillow, but feel warm inside. I do feel like I’ve grown up a bit recently. I feel like I’m surrounded by people who care about me – and I care about them. ‘I haven’t changed that much,’ I point out, laughing. ‘I still didn’t actually go along to offer any support.’
Harry looks concerned. ‘I do really hope it works out. This Eliot dude sounded like a genuinely decent guy in that last note, didn’t he? And Jemma deserves someone great.’
I widen my eyes. ‘You were listening earlier when they read it out?’ I shake my head. ‘When Salma started reading, I was too busy licking that sensitive bit behind your ear.’
He snorts. ‘Ohh, I remember. You’re a very good girlfriend.’
I look over at him. ‘Girlfriend?’
He grins. ‘If you’re up for it?’
I nod silently, feeling a lot of emotions overwhelming me at once. He takes my hand and squeezes it.
Downstairs the front door slams and we both scramble to throw on clothes. I reach the landing first, yelling over the banister, ‘How did it go? What happened?’
I throw myself down the stairs, almost winding myself on the chest of drawers, still sitting in the hallway. I really should do something about it.
‘Was there a new note? Did you find him? Are you and Eliot in love now?’ I’m breathless as I glance anxiously between Jemma, Salma, Angela, Mum and Buffy. They are a collective expression of misery.
Jemma slowly shakes her head, staring down at the ground. She pulls a note out of her pocket and hands it over. I feel Harry behind me and he reads over my shoulder.
Hi Jemma,
It’s been just over a week since I left you the last note and I’m guessing that means you’ve made your decision. For the record, I don’t blame you at all. I know it was a lot – asking you to meet up with me. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable – I’m really sorry. I want you to know how much I’ve loved talking to you. It meant a lot, being able to talk about books, and other silly things. I loved being able to share this passion with you. I won’t send any more notes after this one, I’d hate for you to feel under pressure to reply. I just wanted to say goodbye, I guess, and no hard feelings. In fact, lots of soft, warm, biscuity feelings. I still think you’re really wonderful and I won’t ever forget how special this was. You made me feel seen andmore like myself during a weird time in my life. Thanks, Jemma.
Yours,
Eliot x
I gasp. ‘No!’ I cry, genuinely devastated. ‘Have you written back? He might come back just in case?’
Jemma doesn’t say anything and Salma sighs, explaining, ‘We sat there for ages while Jem tried to come up with something to write back.’ She glances at Jemma with sympathetic eyes. ‘In the end, we left a short, simple note saying she was really sorry and that she’d been away.’
Jemma pipes up, ‘I put my phone number on there just in case.’ She looks crestfallen. ‘But he won’t be back. I know he won’t, I can feel it. I’ll probably get a text in a few months from some other creep who got the book out and found my number.’
Everyone falls silent and the group’s disappointment fills the hallway. I’m heartbroken for Jemma.
‘Let’s all get to bed,’ Jemma says at last, cutting through the awful atmosphere. She glances at Mum and Angela with forced excitement. ‘Tomorrow is going to be so lovely, and we can’t let this silly let-down taint it. I can’t wait to see you two get married.’ We all crowd in for a cuddle, holding one another for the next couple of minutes. Even Buffy allows herself to be group-comforted. Eventually, we disengage, each of us heading back to our own rooms to get no sleep; half excited for what’s to come, half sad for what’s happened.
Chapter Forty-FourJEMMA
I never cry; I hate crying. Except I seem to be crying a lot right now – like alotlot. But they’re nice tears; happy tears. Definitely happy tears.
We’ve just finished the ceremony, where Mum and Angela exchanged personalized vows and a sweet little kiss. There were beautiful speeches that also managed to squeeze in a cool fact from Angela about a wedding in 1993 with thirty thousand guests. The officiant – (Va)Gina – was great and fun, moving us to tears in one moment, then making us laugh the next. It was all just… perfect.
And now we’re heading to a nearby pub, where lunch is waiting for us.