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“A bloody millstone more like,” Mum grumbles. “I used to think her college work was bad, but this is ten times worse. At least back then she'd go out sometimes, and of course she had Luke...” she trails off, covering her hand with her mouth.
I laugh and shake my head. “You can say his name. I'm not going to curl up into a ball and cry or anything.”
“I can never tell with you. You're a closed book.”
I’m taken aback by that. I'm anything but shut off. “I think I was over him before we even split,” I say. “I just didn't know it.”
Lara catches my eye, and I know she's thinking about my kiss with Callum. I am, too. Remembering the way his lips brushed against mine, the soft sweep of his tongue, it's probably fair to say I'm obsessed by the memory.
Maybe him going to New York is a good thing. He's made it clear we can only be friends, and to do anything else would put my job in jeopardy.
That kiss, though...
“What are you thinking about?” Alex grins at me from across the table. “You look like the cat that got the cream.”
Lara frowns “Do you mean canary?”
“Don't be silly, babe. Canaries don't eat cream.”
There follows a meaningless debate about cats versus canaries, and I sit back and take a mouthful of sparkly wine. Being surrounded by family and friends makes me feel warm from the inside out. Maybe all work and no play really does make Amy a dull girl. I should call Ellie and arrange for a girls’ night out.
After the waiter clears away our main courses, Alex pulls out his chair and bangs on his glass with the end of his spoon. The chatter dies down as we all turn to look at him. He seems nervous, twirling the spoon between his thumb and finger. That isn't like Alex; usually he thrives on being the centre of attention.
“I wanted to thank you all for coming to celebrate the birthday of my beautiful wife,” he says, and we all gush in response. “Seven years ago she married me and I thought I was the luckiest man in the world. Then she gave birth to our beautiful son and I knew I was.”
Lara grabs his hand and squeezes, tears glinting. My eyes feel a little damp, too.
“As you know, we had a bad summer, and nearly lost our gorgeous boy. So I'm delighted you can all be with us to see just how well he's recovered. And that's all down to Lara, who isn't just a fantastic wife, but an amazing mother, too.” Alex slides his hand into the pocket of his black trousers, pulling out a small, blue box. “And if I wasn't already married to her, I'd be down on my knee right now.”
“Do it!” Niall yells. Alex laughs, shaking his head.
“So I'm going to do the second best thing.” He opens the small box, revealing a diamond encrusted eternity ring that catches the light. “Lara Cartwright, love of my life, mother of my child, will you do me the honour of renewing our vows?”
Lara covers her mouth with her hand, hiccupping back a sob. Alex has to gently prise it away to slide the ring on to her elegant finger. She holds it outstretched, moving it this way and that, admiring the way it looks. “Of course I will,” she says, still choked. Then we all surround the two of them, hugging them both and wishing them well, until Max breaks up the party by throwing a chicken nugget at Alex's head.
* * *
The next morning I'm desperately clinging on to sleep when the shrill ring of my phone cuts through the early morning silence. I sit up, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes, squinting to read the caller id. McDuck, S flashes impatiently, and I bite my lip in an attempt to stave off my grin.
My teeth do nothing to stop the excitement swirling in my belly, though.
“Hello?” My voice is lower when I wake up. I wonder if I sound like a man.
“I can't find my passport.”
Groaning, I lean across to my bedside table, flicking on my lamp. “Why are you more demanding now I'm not your PA than you ever used to be?”
“I always want what I can't have.”
And bang, I feel the impact of his words right down to my toes. Touché, Callum, that makes two of us.
“Have you looked in your top left drawer at work? Under the photo?” I ask, my throat suddenly dry. I want to drop my head into my hands and slap myself soundly.
“Under the photo?” he says softly. “I didn't look there.”
“Well, you should.” I try to sound nonchalant and chipper, but it doesn't work. The memory of that picture leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “You need to check in within an hour.”
“I'll pick it up now. Thank you, Amy.” His voice is deep, smooth and completely unreadable. Does he know I've seen the picture of his wife?
