The arrival of my nephew Aaron seemed to have mellowed Dad out a bit. He’d started leaning into the role of doting grandfather; spending more time with Steven and his family, and less time hovering around Mum or unloading his emotional baggage on me. It made the following few weeks easier to get through. Still, with the wedding fast approaching, I’d started to toy with the idea of logging back ontoOuiMeetto hire someone else, just to get it over with. But I couldn’t stop imagining what it would’ve been like to walk in with Theo. My aunties – and a few distant cousins I barely spoke to – would’ve been seething with jealousy. And honestly, that alone would’ve been worth it.
I spent my lunchtimes at work scrolling through Theo’s Instagram, thinking about what he was probably getting up to. He’d uploaded new photos of him on nights out, alongside a couple of videos of him playing football. How he found the time to do a nine to five, do hisOuiMeetstuff and still have an active social life was beyond me. He looked happy enough in the photos – happy without me. It’s strange how someone could leave such a deep mark on your life in such a short amount of time, but here we were. I often thought of reaching out to him, but the fear of being rejected had taken hold of me. This was all my fault, and I had to deal with the consequences.
My thoughts eventually went back to Jeff. I’d been avoiding him again at work since finding out about his secret family – although could it be considered a ‘secret’ if I never really asked about it in the first place?
For someone who had a whole family at home, it definitelyfelt like he was trying his luck. Not on me, but on some of the other female staff members. All sans a wedding ring too, although that could be argued that because he was a surgeon, wearing a ring all the time at work could be seen as impractical. But still. The next time I bumped into him was in the staffroom; I was in the corner scrolling through my phone, polishing off my packed lunch when he rolled into the room, grabbing his mug of coffee as always. He caught my eye and I smiled awkwardly, returning to my phone, but it was too late.
He sauntered over and plonked himself down, that smug grin of his instantly giving me the ick. Honestly, it made me wonder if charming female colleagues was just part of his onboarding process at every job. Nothing said ‘faithful husband’ like borderline sleaze in the staffroom.
‘Heyyyy, Cassie, how are you doing? What have you got there?’ He nodded at my sandwich.
I decided to turn up the sass and replied, ‘Hey Jeff; I’m good, thanks. Well, in most societies, this is known as a sandwich,’ and I took a huge bite. Jeff just grinned, which for some reason annoyed me more. Could a girl not enjoy her lunch break in peace? I should have stayed in the office with Kofi instead.
‘Ha ha, very funny. I mean what’s in it?’ he replied, taking a sip of his coffee, his glasses perched delicately on the bridge of his nose, making him look pensive. ‘Cheese and ham,’ I said simply, trying to engage as little as possible.
‘Nice, nice. Oh! Also, are you all set for your mum’s wedding? It’s quite soon, isn’t it? Got your outfit ready and everything?’
I needed to nip this in the bud; this was excruciating. I went for it:
‘Yeah, I’m all set! I didn’t know weddings could bethatstressful, with all the different options for outfits and making sure they kinda match with the rest of the wedding party. It’s been such a ball ache. Did you have to go through all of thisat your wedding?’ And I smiled the biggest, most innocent smile I could muster, fluttering my eyelashes at him. Jeff stared at me – stumped. He then looked down at the place where his wedding ring should have been, and began to rub his ring finger frantically. Gotcha, bitch!
‘Oh, um … yeah, haha, it was erm—’ he started, and I could see his eyes darting back and forth from me to his ring finger, no doubt probably trying to come up with an excuse. I had to admit that it was delicious seeing him scramble in such a way.
‘Haha, yeah, it was quite the day. Weddings can be quite frantic, I suppose—’ he caught me looking at his left hand, no doubt noticing the phantom ring, and continued to spill.
‘I don’t usually wear my ring at work if you’re wondering – I’ve always either got my hands in water or in someone’s body and it’s too easy to get lost, you know … haha’
I smiled. He was positively panicking now. I took another bite of my sandwich, finishing up my lunch. My work was done here.
‘Oh, don’t worry! It’s easily understandable – I do that with some of my jewellery too. Anyway, I’m gonna get back to the office now; there’s a few forms I need to draft up for you to fill out today, so I’ll send the PDF forms to you a bit later this afternoon, if that’s OK?’
And with the biggest smile I could muster, I got up and left, leaving Jeff squirming in his seat.
Chapter 18
It had been a few weeks since Theo and I last spoke, and the silence weighed heavier on me than I cared to admit. I missed him – more than I should’ve. But with Sade’s reprimand still echoing in my head, guilt kept me from reaching out. Getting in contact felt selfish, and yet doing nothing felt just as wrong. I tried to concentrate all my energy into work, doing overtime and other tasks to keep my mind busy (with a now very meek and professional Jeff at bay), and spent my spare time with my little nephew, going over last-minute wedding details with Mum and Femi, and even dipping a toe back into the dating scene.
The rebound phase didn’t last long. After a week of back-to-back dates with guys from every app under the sun, I tapped out. None of them came close to what I’d had with Theo – and the truth was, my heart still ached for him. It was now three weeks until the wedding and I was at Mum’s house, helping her put together twelve bouquets of fake flowers she’d bought on Amazon for the reception tables after refusing to invest in purchasing real flowers for the day.
‘That floral shop in town quoted me two grand for flower arrangements, as if we’re not in a cost of living crisis?’ she moaned, passing me the coloured bow to tie up the bouquets, kissing her teeth loudly. I chuckled as I tied up the plastic peony bouquet and placed it on the counter.
‘I think flowers are such a scam, personally. Why are we paying for things that die as soon as you cut the stems? Also, if you’re only using the flowers for a day, there should be an opportunity to just rent them instead of buying them. Makes more sense really.’
We spent the rest of the day knee-deep in floral decorations, as well as ticking off other wedding tasks that needed doing. It didn’t take long to realise this wedding was less ‘elegant soirée’ and more ‘Pinterest board’ come to life – minus the budget and a team. I took a break after designing the fiftieth guest seating card on Canva and sat on her bed, watching her hem the Phase Eight wedding dress that she’d bought for £75 on eBay. Mum was determined to cut costs by any means necessary. She had bought a beautiful ivory halter neck-style maxi dress that featured hand-stitched ruffles with pearlescent beads that caught the light as she walked. It was a little long, hence the hemming, but she looked absolutely sensational in it.
‘So, Cassie,’ she started, as I helped her pin the lining of the dress, ‘I know you said I shouldn’t ask but, do you have an update about who you’re bringing?’ I let out an exasperated sigh. She refused to let this go.
‘Mum, no offence, but why does this matter so much? It’s your day; it’s not about me. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m fine.’
Mum dropped her pins and looked at me, her eyes sad. Were you truly an African parent if you didn’t constantly worry about the marital status of your first-born daughter?
‘I know you’re fine, honey. You’ve always been fine. But I worry, you know? It’s more than just you bringing a date to the wedding, I suppose. I always thought my first grandchild would be produced by my first-born – not that Aaron isn’t a blessing served by God, of course—’ she quickly added in, noticing my cocked eyebrow ‘—but I worry about you sometimes. I’veheard from some of the younger girls at work about how hard dating is, and I just don’t want that for you. You’re an incredible spirit – so beautiful – with so much to offer. I just want to see you happy and settled is all. It took me a while to get over the fact that you didn’t want to be a lawyer and now I can see that you’re happy where you are at career-wise which is nice, but I also want more for you. I can’t be blamed for that.’
‘But why must my happiness be framed around settling down, though?’ I asked. We’d had this discussion several times before; about the African urge to centre men in everything and how problematic and patriarchal it was. Despite the many conversations, it always seemed as if she never fully ‘got’ it. ‘Why can’t I just be happy and single? I promise you, Mum, I’m OK! I’m thriving. I’m a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man.’
She looked at me quizzically. I knew she was sick of me at that point. ‘If you say so, my child. I just want you to be happy,’ she eventually answered, going back to hemming her dress.
‘But let’s say I had someone in mind to bring along,’ I continued, a thought suddenly occurring to me. ‘Would you and Dad judge him if he looked a particular way, or didn’t go to university … or had a job that was a bit … unorthodox?’
