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Book club was one of Stella’s favourite things in the world. The group consisted of Stella, Bridget, Bridget’s old school friend Sarah and Stella’s cousin Lucy, who lived nearby. They’d formed a book club at Bridget’s insistence when they’d all first moved to London, even though Stella had protested at the time that, surely, they were too young to be in a book club. As it turned out, they had only ever managed to finish one complete book between them, the first one. Still, they had got together every other month since to catch up, accompanied by crisps, wine and conversations that often left them helpless with laughter.
‘Thank god for that, where are we meeting?’
Stella nudged Bridget because they always met in the same pub just off the King’s Road. ‘Funny. See you then. And don’t be late.’
‘I’m never late!’ Bridget protested, though they both knew she was always the last to arrive.
Simon called over from the car. ‘It’s all in, ready when you are. No hurry.’ He waved at them, smiling.
‘You sure you know what you’re doing?’ Bridget whispered.
Stella looked at her friend. ‘Not really, no. But it feels right. I really love him, Bridge.’
‘Well then, you go and live with him and be happy. And I couldn’t be happier for you.’ Bridget kissed Stella on the cheek, then looked her squarely in the face. ‘I love you.’
‘Love you too, Bridge.’
Stella climbed into the car beside Simon and waved back at her friend from the open car window all the way down the street until they turned the corner at the end.
2
At first, Stella had felt like she was playing at being grown up, except this wasn’t a Wendy house. It was an actual house, with paintings on the wall and cream furniture; there was even a wine fridge, of all things. Compared to her old flat, where the only ‘artwork’ consisted of photo collages of various family and friends, and the sofas were practically threadbare, this was quite the stylish change of scene.
Both of them were working harder than ever, Stella moving from one position to another at the supermarket’s head office as she successfully climbed the corporate ladder. Meanwhile, Simon had left Stella’s company for a different firm to do what he did best: streamlining with a smile.
Most weekends were spent at home, often in bed wrapped in one another’s arms, with the occasional European city break thrown in for good measure. Their lives were busy, so much so Stella missed a few book club gatherings and had to face the wrath of Bridget for doing so.
‘Come on, Bridge. You know I love our evenings more than anything,’ Stella had said when calling to cancel yet again at the last minute. She’d said she was working late, not wanting to confess the real reason. Simon had in fact booked them a table at a restaurant that was near-impossible to get into and had begged Stella to change her plans.
‘You missed the last one because of work,’ said Bridget.
‘I know. I’m a bad friend. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be at the next one. I miss you.’ Stella had pushed down her feelings of guilt, hating the fact that she was resorting to a white lie. It really wasn’t her style.
‘OK, but if you miss the next one, I’m definitely going to hold a grudge and you know how brilliant I am at that.’
Stella couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Yes, I do. World-class, I know. I won’t, I promise.’
That night, over a bottle of Barolo, Simon had brought up the one topic of conversation that had become something of a sticking point in their otherwise seemingly perfect relationship.
‘So, I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but we do need to talk about it sooner or later.’ Simon swirled his glass and took a sip before putting the glass slowly back down on the table.
Stella had shifted in her seat. Simon often talked about them in the future tense as if it were the most normal thing in the world, as if them getting married was simply a given. And he talked about having children as if that wasn’t up for discussion either. The first time he’d brought it up, she’d laughed it off, saying it was too early to even think about kids given they’d only met just a few months before. But it was a subject he came back to often.
Stella picked up her glass. ‘You know how I feel about this. I hope to have kids one day, just not yet. I don’t feel ready.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, we’re not even married.’ She took a long sip, holding his gaze.
‘Not yet, no. But…’ Simon had reached into his pocket and pulled out a small burgundy velvet box, putting it on the table between them. He pushed it across the table towards her, smiling.
Stella gasped, almost choking on her wine. She looked at him, then back at the box. ‘Is this…?’
‘Open it.’ Simon spoke softly.
She had hesitated before reaching across to pick it up. Slowly, she opened the box. Inside sat the most enormous diamond ring she’d ever seen. It looked like a priceless daisy, a yellow diamond in the middle, surrounded by lots of smaller ones, too many to even count. ‘Oh my goodness.’ The people at the tables on either side had turned towards them, looking but saying nothing. Stella just stared at the ring. ‘Simon, it’s beautiful,’ she whispered.
‘Well, don’t just look at it, try it on.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Stella, I love you and I want us to be together. Please, will you marry me?’
Stella looked across the table at him. Even though she’d secretly hoped a proposal was coming at some point, it was still a shock. Her heart thumped in her chest.
‘Yes,’ she said, so quietly she wasn’t even sure if she’d actually said it.
