The Importance of Being Married (29 page)

“Actually—” Max stopped walking. “Actually, that’s not true.”

“It isn’t?”

“I…I had Marcia’s style sheet all along,” he said.

“Style sheet?” My forehead creased in incomprehension. “Which style sh…?” And then I realized what he meant. What I thought he meant. “You did? I mean, you came…”

“To see you, yes.”

“Because…” I could hardly breathe.

“Because I was hoping that I might pluck up the courage, maybe, to…But then I didn’t, of course. I bottled it. Like I always do. But sometimes you’ve got to be brave, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice hardly audible. “Yes, I think you do.”

“So, I’m pleased,” he said. “About you and Anthony.”

“Yes,” I said. Max started walking again and I followed after him, my mind racing. He was pleased. He came to see me. And he was only telling me this now? Why? Why didn’t he tell me before. And then I knew why. It was the same reason Anthony was interested in me—because someone else was. Anthony was jealous of Sean; Max was jealous of Anthony. Although jealousy wasn’t a bad thing, not always.

Max stopped again. “I just wondered if you…if you…”

I stopped, too. My eyes met his, and neither of us could look away. His lips were just inches away; if I moved my head just slightly we’d be kissing. It was what I’d hoped for since I met him, what I’d wanted since I’d set eyes on him at my interview to Milton Advertising.

Except it wasn’t, I realized suddenly. It wasn’t what I wanted, not really. If I kissed Max, if I let him kiss me, everything would change. I’d lose Grace’s inheritance. But more importantly, I’d be vulnerable to so much more disappointment. Too vulnerable. And all for a man who was probably only interested in me because someone else was.

Steeling myself, I pulled away. “No,” I said, my voice barely audible. “No…” And, drawing on every piece of strength in my body and mind, I turned around and ran down the street toward the tube.

Chapter 20

PROJECT: MARRIAGE DAY 21

To do

1. Um…

The next morning, I was woken up by a loud ringing. Pulling my pillow over my head, I did my best to ignore the sound, which I worked out in my sleepy haze was the doorbell and therefore very unlikely to be anything to do with me. I felt myself drifting back into a delicious sleep. A few moments later, though, I felt the pillow being pulled from my head.

“It’s for you,” Helen said, her voice strange and brittle.

“For me? What’s for me?”

“The door. You’ve got a visitor.”

I stared at her.

“For me?” I asked again stupidly. “Who is it?”

Then I frowned. “It’s not Mr. Taylor, is it?” I asked anxiously.

I swung my legs out of bed and lowered my head onto my knees. “Tell him I’m not here,” I said pleadingly. “Tell him I’m still out of the country.”

“Still out of the country? When did you leave?” Helen asked.

“I told him I was going away a week or two ago,” I mumbled. “Please, Hel. Tell him you don’t know where I am. I can’t face him now. I really can’t.”

“It isn’t Mr. Taylor,” Helen said, pulling me out of bed and smoothing down my hair. “But put something on first.” She scanned my wardrobe and pulled out some clothes. “Here, put these on.”

She handed me a pair of jeans and a pretty cashmere cardigan, and I looked at her cautiously.

“Why?” I demanded.

“Just do it!” Helen said irritably. “Quickly!”

“If it’s Ivana with some new activity for me to try, I’m not doing it,” I said sulkily. “I’m really not. I need to talk to you about Project Marriage, actually. You see, I’ve been thinking and I don’t think it’s going to work. Seriously.”

“Fine. Suit yourself. Just go down to the front door.”

“You’re okay with that?” I asked in amazement. “You don’t mind if I abort the whole thing?”

“Not at all,” Helen said vaguely. “Whatever you want. Just do me a favor and answer the door.”

Curiously, I walked toward the front door and opened it. And just before I did, I got a little jolt in my stomach. Because maybe it was Max. Maybe he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and he was going to sweep me off my feet…

The hallway was empty. Of course it wasn’t Max. Which was good. I mean, it was never going to be him anyway. I didn’t know why I’d even thought that.

“There’s no one there!” I sighed, turning around to frown at Helen.

“The proper front door. Downstairs,” Helen said, urging me toward the staircase.

Tentatively, I made my way downstairs. It
could
be Max. I mean, it was possible. Slowly, I opened the door. And then my mouth fell open.

“Anthony?”

He smiled awkwardly and presented me with a bouquet of flowers, which I took uncertainly. I could smell wine on his breath. Or maybe it was champagne.

“I know you’ve had too many of these, but I wasn’t sure what else to get.”

I looked at him skeptically. “You got these for me?”

“Yes. Yes I did. You see, the thing is—”

He stopped in midsentence, and I looked at him curiously.

“The thing is,” he began again, “I got to thinking last night. After you left, I mean.”

“You did?”

Anthony smiled uncertainly. “Yes, well. You see, I was at this party, and it was crap, as parties always are, and I got to thinking about my life.”

“Your life,” I said, squinting against the early-morning sunlight. “Yes, well, it’s always good to do that.”

“Right. Exactly. And your life, in fact.”

I frowned. “My life?”

“You just said no to that party yesterday. You just walked away. I can never do that. If there’s a party, I have to go. It’s a weakness.”

“Maybe you just like parties,” I suggested.

“I do!” Anthony’s eyes lit up. “But they’re never as good as I think they’re going to be. That’s the point. Things never are. Except you.”

“Me?” I looked at him suspiciously.

“Yes. You’re better than I thought you were going to be. You see? Better, not worse.”

“Right,” I said, not knowing whether to be flattered or insulted.

“And then I thought about Sean. You know, missing the boat, full of regrets. And I thought: you know, Anthony? That could be you one day. Running from party to party and missing the boat right in front of you.”

I frowned. “You mean a boat party?”

“I mean your boat,” Anthony said, his eyes shining.

“I don’t have a boat. I’m just ordinary. Look, Anthony, why don’t you go home. Why don’t you ring up Tamara, or Selina, and talk to them about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to them. I want to talk to you.”

Anthony was staring at me goofily, swaying from side to side.

“Are you drunk?” I asked.

“A bit. Drunk with love.” Anthony grinned.

“You’re in love?” I sighed. Of course he was. He was coming to tell me it was over. Good. I wanted it to be over. It would be a relief.

“Yes I am. With you!”

“Good. So, good-bye then…” My voice stalled as I realized what he’d said, and I took a step back. “You’re what?”

“I’m in love with you. It suddenly became clear.”

“In love with me?” I asked incredulously. “But why?”

“Why?” Anthony frowned with confusion.

“Yes,” I asked, genuinely baffled. “Why? I’m not a supermodel. I don’t like parties. Yesterday we were meant to be having dinner and you went to a party with Tamara instead.”

“Exactly!” he said, as though I’d just solved a difficult mathematical equation. “And it was awful. I drank too much, I stayed too long…And if I’d stayed with you, I’d be at home now, I wouldn’t be hungover, I’d be comfortable.”

“You’re sure you’re not still drunk?” I asked. He wasn’t making any sense. He wasn’t in love with me. This whole thing was just…bizarre.

“Hair of the dog,” he said, winking. “Best cure known to man. So anyway, what do you think?”

“Think? About what?” I was beginning to think I needed a drink myself.

“About us? About my proposition.”

“What proposition? You haven’t proposed anything as far as I can remember.”

“Proposition? Oh my God. Has he proposed? Are you two getting married?” I turned, to see Helen rushing toward me, her arms outstretched to give me a hug.

“No,” I managed to say before she hurled herself at me. “No, he hasn’t. We’re not—”

“We could!” Anthony said suddenly, his eyes shining.

“What?” I stared at him in horror.

“Get married,” he said, grinning. “Settle down. What a brilliant idea.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said firmly.

“Yes it is!” Helen put her hand over my mouth. “It’s a brilliant idea. Wow, how exciting.”

“But…but…” I extricated myself from Helen’s grasp. “But…”

“But nothing!” Anthony swung around and grabbed me in a bear hug. “Your friend’s right. It’s a brilliant idea. I’m not going to miss the boat anymore. I’m going to get on the boat.”

“
I’m
the boat now?” I asked, reeling slightly.

“We’re the boat,” Anthony corrected me. “Marriage is the boat. HMS Commitment.”