And that was it. It felt magical. He wasn’t with the blond woman after all, and after the intermission he switched seats to be next to me. We went back to the opera on our first anniversary, and I thought we’d do it every year for the rest of our lives.So much for that. So much for telling the story at the wedding reception and everybody saying, Ahh …“Oh God.” Ben is peering at me. “I’m sorry. I’ve said something. What’s wrong?”“Nothing!” I smile hastily and blink. “Just … everything. You know. Life.” “Exactly. Exactly.” He nods fervently as though I’ve solved some massiveproblem he was wrestling with. “Lotts, do you feel as fucked up by life as I do?” “Yes.” I take a deep slug of wine. “Yes, I do. Even more so.”“When I was eighteen, when we were out there, I knew what I was about.” Ben is staring moodily into space. “I had clarity. But you start out in life and somehow it all gets … corroded. Corrupted. Everything closes in on you, you know what I mean? There’s no escape. There’

FLISSI hope Lottie’s OK, I really do. I’ve been away for two weeks and I haven’t heard one word from her. She hasn’t answered any of my friendly texts, and the last phone call we had was when she was planning to fly to San Francisco and surprise Richard. As Unfortunate Choices go, that one took the biscuit. Thank God I headed it off.But since then: nothing. I’ve tried leaving voicemails as well as texting, but no response. I did manage to get through to her intern, who assured me that she was coming in to work every day—so at least I know she’s alive and well. But it’s not like Lottie to be incommunicado. It troubles me. I’ll go round and see her tonight, make sure she’s OK.I pull out my phone and send her yet another text: Hi, how’s it going??? Then I put it away and survey the school playground. It’s thronging with parents, children, nannies, dogs, and toddlers on scooters. It’s the first day of term, so there are lots of tanned faces and shiny shoes and new haircuts. And that’s

I should never have relaxed. I should never have gone on holiday. I should have realized Lottie wouldn’t rest till she’d found something to channel all her hurt energy into. And it’s this. A marriage.By the time I get to Selfridges, my heart is thumping and I have a head full of questions. Lottie, on the other hand, has a basket full of underwear. No, not underwear, sex kit. She’s standing looking at a transparent basque as I hurtle toward her, almost knocking over a rail of Princesse Tam Tam teddies. As she sees me, she holds it up.“What do you think?”I eye the stuff in her basket. She’s clearly been at the Agent Provocateur concession. There’s lots of black see-through lace. And is that an eye mask?“What do you think?” she says impatiently, and jiggles the basque at me. “It’s quite expensive. Shall I try it on?”Isn’t there a slightly bigger question we should be discussing? I want to yell. Like: who is this Ben and why are you marrying him? But if I know one thing about Lottie,

FLISSI can’t believe she’s ignored me for a full twenty-four hours. She’s got some nerve.It’s the following afternoon, the wedding is due to start in an hour, and I still haven’t spoken to Lottie. She’s sidestepped my every call (approximately one hundred of them). But at the same time she’s managed to leave a whole series of messages on my phone, about the registry office and the restaurant and meeting for pre-wedding drinks at Bluebird. A purple satin bridesmaid’s dress arrived at my office at lunchtime by bike. A poem arrived by email, along with a request for me to read it aloud during the ceremony: It will make our day so special!She doesn’t fool me. There’s a reason she’s not been taking my calls: she feels defensive. Which means I’m in with a chance. I know I can talk her out of this nonsense. I just need to work out exactly where her vulnerability is and exploit it.As I arrive at Bluebird, I can see her already sitting at the bar in a cream lace minidress, with roses in he

“Another?” He looks up and meets my eye, and I feel things shift between us a little. The first drink was like a coda to the whole affair. It was resolution. It was just being polite.This is more than polite. “Yes, let’s.”“Same again?”I nod and watch as he summons the waiter and orders. Nice hands. Good strong jaw. Unhurried, laconic mannerisms. He’s a lot more appealing than his webpage gives away.“Your website photo is terrible,” I say abruptly, as the waiter disappears. “Really bad. Did you know that?”“Wow.” Lorcan raises his eyebrows, looking taken aback. “You’re direct.Lucky I’m not vain.”“It’s not about vanity.” I shake my head. “It’s not that you’re better-looking in the flesh. It’s that your personality is better. I’m looking at you and I’m seeing aguy who makes time for people. A guy who puts away his phone. Who listens. You’re charming. In a way.”“In a way?” He gives an incredulous laugh.“But your photo doesn’t say that.” I ignore him. “In your photo, you’re scowli