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LAYLA: That’s right, ladies, the mansplaining is over. I’ll be on the show once a week, talking about all the things that these guys really are unqualified to talk about. Like bikini waxes, and UTIs, and where you can find period pants that actually look good. And also what it feels like to have a ton of metal beads shoved inside your vag.
(Luke coughs violently)
LAYLA: Not that I would know.
JOSH: Right. Until then, do you have any last words for our listeners?
LAYLA: Everyone you love will hurt you, in some way. Most of them, I hope, will do it by accident. Some of them will do it on purpose. Don’t let them win by letting it harden you. Stay trusting. And hopeful. Fall in love again, and again, and again. It’ll be okay. I promise. And ladies, pee after sex.
(Brief pause)
ZACK: So, what happens next?
LAYLA: Well, for starters, I think you guys need to change the name of your podcast.
LAYLA: Also, I’m absolutely using that discount code.
***
EPILOGUE
***
FIFTEEN MONTHS LATER
Layla Thompson @HerTreatLayla ?
update: we got married ♥
We get married on a flower-filled rooftop in central London, on the day of my thirtieth birthday.
The ceremony is beautiful. The guys all look delicious in dark suits, and I wear a creamy silk dress I designed myself, covered in tiny organza butterflies. We say our vows as the sun sets over the city, streaking the sky in a wash of gold and peach and rose-petal pink. As the last few rays of sunshine fade away from the blackening sky, and the boys each take turns kissing the bride, the rooftop lights up. Hundreds of glowing lanterns illuminate over our heads, and the foliage glows with strings of coloured fairy lights carefully threaded through the leaves and branches.
And then the party starts. Thanks to Zack’s flat-out insistence on an open bar, soon the alcohol is flowing, and everybody is migrating to the flashing disco dance-floor we had set up. I hang back, savouring my slice of frosted birthday cake and watching people dance.
We have way more guests than I would have ever expected at my wedding. My parents are here, chatting to Luke’s niece Lavender, who’s clinging onto the hand of her heavily eye-lined girlfriend. Zack’s parents are happily drinking and jiving in the corner. Josh’s brother Rob also made it, and thankfully didn’t bring Amy with him. Josh told me privately a couple of weeks ago that the couple is currently on a break. She got fired from Emery High last summer, after the Inspection Board decided she was being negligent towards student safety. Apparently, after she lost her job, Amy started to let her sweet facade slip, and some of her usual nastiness began to show. Luckily, Rob is having absolutely none of it.
It sounds bad, but I hope they break up. Rob seems like a lovely guy. He deserves better than her.
Josh also took it upon himself to invite every listener who once invited the boys to their weddings. He said it was only fair. So now the roof is practically overflowing with energy and laughter as people drink and dance and mingle. It’s a good reflection of how my life has been going recently. Ever since the engagement, my life has been a whirlwind of love and work and happiness.
It happened eight months ago. I was in New York to promote some new pieces in my Butterfly collection. It ended up selling incredibly; so well, in fact, that Anna Bardet got back into contact a few weeks after the release dropped. She asked if she could incorporate the design into her new spring collection.
I turned her down. I’m doing more than well enough without her.
The guys came with me to New York, and used the opportunity to do a couple of live shows for their American listeners. Their audience has only expanded since they went solo. They’re regularly hitting the podcast charts, and were named the #1 most popular relationship advice show in the UK last year. Which, admittedly, was much easier, since Sweetheart Soulmates is now disbanded. Apparently, the couple who hosted the show weren’t as perfect as they pretended. After it got leaked that both partners were having affairs, the podcast ended immediately, and they’re now navigating a very messy divorce.
Shame.
New York was a great trip; the only thing that made me sad was that we were all too busy to really hang out together. Even though we were all living in the same hotel suite, I was always up before the guys were awake, and they always seemed to be gone by the time I got back.
By our last night in New York, I’d pretty much given up on having any romantic time with the guys in the city. I’d gotten back to the hotel at three in the morning, absolutely exhausted after spending hours at an afterparty, and when I’d tiptoed back into our shared suite, my jaw had dropped. It had been completely transformed into some kind of romantic dreamland. There were bunches of flowers everywhere. Boxes of chocolates stacked on the bed. Lit candles flickering on the windowsills. And all three guys were down on one knee, each of them holding a little velvet ring box.
I hadn’t eaten all day, and I was still very jet-lagged from travelling, so I’m very embarrassed to say I pretty much literally swooned. I had to sit down on the bed with my head between my legs for a bit. It was fine, though. Zack finger-fed me chocolates until I felt better, and then the guys tried again after dinner. And this time I said yes. Three times over.
And now we’re finally married, and everything is perfect.
Well. Almost perfect.
