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When Emma was a teenager, she was desperate to escape home and explore. As a student, she spent summers backpacking in Europe and Asia. She finally settled in Edinburgh and had carved out a successful career as a lawyer and had never intended to settle down.
Then a few years ago she had met Max through work. He was also a lawyer and despite her intentions to remain single, she’d fallen for him instantly. But she didn’t tell him that. To begin with they met with a mutual group of work colleagues in a wine bar for drinks after work on a Friday. Then as the weeks passed, they started spending more and more time together. Then one night Max invited her out for dinner on her own. He took her to a small, French bistro tucked away down a cobbled lane. It was cosy and intimate, and each table had a flickering candle. They both drank Kir Royales and took far too long to order because they were so absorbed in their conversation.
Eventually they had shared steamed Shetland mussels, to start, then roast confit of duck leg. It was the first time Emma had ever tried duck but it became evident Max was a foodie and passionate about eating good food. Afterwards they had shared a plate of cheese and full-bodied red wine.
It was only when she glanced up and saw the restaurant had emptied of all the other diners, that they realized the staff were keen to get home and it was definitely time to leave. When he walked her back to her apartment in Stockbridge, everything seemed to have a rose-tinted gloss to it. She had never quite noticed before how elegant the Georgian and Victorian terraced houses were. Max lived near the Meadows, and didn’t know the area so well, and kept stopping to look in the delis and at the menus of gastropubs whose customers were also starting to spill out onto the pavement. It was only as they approached her flat, right by the Water of Leith, that he finally admitted that he wanted to kiss her.
‘When did you decide that?’ she’d asked him coyly.
‘When you ate a mussel tonight,’ he joked.
‘And you saw the sauce dripping down my chin?’
‘Yes, that did it for me. But I also wanted to kiss you when I saw you arguing with that numpty that I work with,’ he said.
Emma laughed. She knew exactly who he was talking about. Max’s colleague, Raymond, a man of a certain age who held outdated and sexist attitudes and had a habit of mansplaining whenever he spoke to, or at, a member of the opposite sex. Emma quickly derided his comments with her razor-sharp wit.
‘I don’t think anyone has told me they want to kiss me because of my put-downs and mussel-eating prowess,’ she said with a giggle.
‘I also wanted to kiss you the first time I saw you and then every time after that . . .’
They’d reached her front door and as he stepped towards her, he cupped her face in his hands and finally kissed her. It had been worth the wait.
That was almost three years ago and apart from being intelligent and handsome, he was kind and that was what she loved most about him. She switched off her terminal and then began to gather her things, swallowing back the lump in her throat for the umpteenth time that day when she thought about her husband-to-be.
They’d moved in together two years ago and bought an apartment in Leith Docks which was small but the view over the harbour made up for its compact size. The area was trendy and vibrant with bus routes to the city centre and there were plenty of pubs, clubs and restaurants within walking distance.
Emma tended to walk to her office in St Andrew Square, at the east end of George Street in town, if she could. Aside from anything else it was quicker as Leith Walk had been ripped apart for the new tram lines which seemed to be taking forever to sort out. For that reason, she always kept trainers in her bag, so she had no excuses and tonight was dry and mild so she decided to walk home.
Max was a criminal lawyer, but she knew his heart was no longer in it. He had been exposed to a lot of vicarious trauma over the years and it had started to take its toll. The passion he once felt for law and for justice had started to wane and he had become disillusioned with what was once his dream job. Now he spoke of ambitions to open a restaurant.
His family lived in North Berwick, a pretty seaside town around thirty minutes from the capital. It was a place they visited often as Max was close to his mother, a widow, and his younger sister who also lived in the town with her girlfriend. Emma realized she could actually imagine them living there one day and raising a family. She quickened her pace as the thought gave her a slight jolt.
By the time she arrived home, her heart was racing. Why on earth was she feeling so jittery? She had cut way back on caffeine and was trying to make sure she did her Wim Hof breathing exercises several times a week. She had even begun finishing her daily shower with a sixty-second blast of cold water in a bid to help her stay calm. She didn’t feel particularly nervous or stressed about the wedding preparations. It was very small and informal so she couldn’t blame that on the swirl of anxiety constantly sitting at the pit of her stomach. So what was it?
The couple had an agreement that whoever arrived home first would prepare dinner. She always preferred it when Max beat her to it because he was so good in the kitchen and, she thought wryly, every other room too. But when she let herself in, the flat was empty. She glanced at her watch which told her she’d beaten her step-count target for the day. And it was just after 8 p.m.
Reaching for her phone, purposefully shoved to the bottom of her bag, so she wouldn’t be tempted to scroll through it as she walked home, she saw he’d sent a text.
Sorry love. Held up. Should be home at 9 x
Her heart sank. That meant it was down to her. She kicked her shoes off and decided to have a quick shower to wash away the grime of the day and her walk home.
Feeling refreshed, she pulled on her sweatpants and a T-shirt and wrapped her hair in a turban towel. She opened the fridge and peered in.
There was a punnet of squashed cherry tomatoes, a couple of onions and a block of mature cheddar. Then she checked the cupboard for pasta. That would do. She poured herself a glass of wine to sip while she chopped the onions and browned them in a pan with a drizzle of olive oil. While the onions softened — apparently you had to leave them for a while, Max had told her — she walked over to the window and stared out at the view.
She could hardly believe there were just a few weeks to go until their wedding. It seemed surreal. She thought about work and what she needed to do before going on annual leave. Emma was a family lawyer and much of her work involved divorce settlements and childcare proceedings which could be tricky. Many of the divorces she handled had come about because of social media and jealous spouses who snooped on their partners online. Or indeed a spouse reconnecting with a past lover and being emotionally and physically unfaithful. It was a minefield.
Taking a swig of wine, she gazed at the horizon. She was glad she and Max were united on their view of social media. Emma limited her use as much as possible because of the negative impacts it could have. Max didn’t use it due to his work. He didn’t want to become a target for trolls or clients. Emma was glad about this as she had friends whose partners were obsessive with their scrolling. It didn’t surprise her that social media was the cause of arguments in one in every five couples.You’re not perfect, said the little voice in her head. Emma tried to shake it off and went to check on the onions. She added some garlic, tomatoes and herbs and popped the lid on to let the sauce simmer.
Just then her phone pinged with a notification on her sisters’ WhatsApp chat.
Hey girls. Can’t wait to see you both. How is the bride-to-be?It was Amy. She couldn’t wait to see her little sister and meet the man who appeared to have captured her sister’s heart. She adored Amy and rued their having drifted apart over the years. But she was so glad that she seemed to have finally settled down even though she was on the other side of the Atlantic. Emma started typing.
Good thanks. Just making dinner for my husband-to-be! Where have I gone wrong? Can’t wait to see you either and meet Ross! Is he excited about a visit to the motherland and meeting us all?
Emma could see Amy had read the reply and was still online but hadn’t replied. Maybe she was distracted with something else. She would leave it for now and perhaps Amy would reply later. Just then she heard Max’s key in the door.
