Page 65 of The Ghost of Exes Past

‘It really is.’

‘So, was I your favourite?’ he says. This is the Jake I know, who comes across all macho but still needs reassurance.

‘I think so,’ I say. He raises his brows, wanting more.

‘Okay, yes, yes. Of course you were.’ I laugh. ‘I sort of wish we could have gone back to when we were both working in Maidstone that second summer we had together. In some ways, it was the best time of my life.’

‘You’re saying the nights we spent drinking pints and playing Boggle at The Red Lion, with its smelly carpets, were the best times of your life?’

‘You’re saying getting hit on by Suzie behind the bar wasn’t the best time of your life?’ I tease.

‘Her name was Sharon.’

‘And the ringworm you got from the lake?’

‘It wasn’t ringworm.’

‘Jake!’

‘I had sensitive skin.’

A rap at the door sends a jolt through my body.

I sit bolt upright, and Jake next to me goes very still, eyes wide.

‘Who is it?’ I shout as the door opens and Timothy walks in.

‘Just me. Who were you talking to?’

Fuck.

‘Myself,’ I reply, maybe a little too quickly, eyes flicking to Jake, who is still sitting, frozen, like one of those gargoyles from the fireplace behind him.

Timothy hovers in the centre of the room. He looks around suspiciously, then walks over to the sofa, picks up the remote, and turns off the TV. The room darkens.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Yes. I’m all good. You?’

He ignores my question. ‘You know …’ He’s not looking at me, but at the remote in his hand. He places it on the table and then drags his fingers back through his hair, shaking his head.

‘Timoth—’

‘Belle, if you’re having second thoughts …’ He takes a step forward. ‘If you want to call this off … Is that what you want?’

Jake doesn’t need me to look at him to know he should get up. Slowly, he stands and sidesteps back to the wall. He’s standing behind Timothy now, next to my wedding dress. Two ghosts in a line. He slow blinks at me, then puts his fingers in his ears and tiptoes to the bathroom. Timothy doesn’t see the door close behind him.

I open my mouth but Timothy cuts me off again.

‘I’d rather know, Belle. We can sort it if that’s the case, but I need to know.’

This is my chance. If I have second thoughts or doubts, now is my time to tell him.

I look at my hands. A decent man is standing before me, asking me politely if I still want to marry him. He’s not guilt-tripping me, calling me a shit shag, or trying to control me. He’s offering me the door.

And the answer in the pit of me that shows no hesitation now is one that I don’t expect.

If I could be with Jake, I would.