Page 3 of The Love of Our Lives

A few moments later, I’m still mentally processing who I’m seeing. I try to look away but he’s already clocked me sitting here and I know it’s too late.

We’re going to have to do this whether we want to or not, and panic floods me.

As he approaches, I can better see who he’s with too – an equally attractive girl with long golden hair and long tanned legs in denim shorts. He whispers something to her, and she smiles curiously at me, which makes me burn up inside.

As quickly as I can, I stand up, suddenly conscious of how pale I look in my loose dark dress, my red hair pulled back out the way. It’s only when they’re almost in front of me, that I see – the hard curve of her stomach below her fitted vest, the sparkle of the ring on her left hand. I swallow.

‘Maggie,’ Nick says, coming to a stop. Propping his shades on top of his head, those sparkly blue eyes I used to adore focus in on me. ‘I thought it was you. How have you been?’

‘Oh, good,’ I say immediately, heart racing, tongue thick with nerves. ‘Great really, we’re just here celebrating . . . a thing today.’ I don’t want to get into it.

‘Nice,’ he says, and turns to the girl. ‘This is Sophie, by the way.’

‘Hi, Sophie,’ I say a bit too enthusiastically.

‘Lovely to meet you, Maggie,’ she replies genuinely, which makes it all even worse. I glance briefly at the bangles down her lean arms, the well-worn flip-flops on her feet.

‘Nick,’ a voice behind me says, and I die a bit inside as Mum appears smiling beside me. ‘I thought it was you.’

‘Hello, Sue,’ Nick says, ‘how have you been? Lovely weather for a picnic.’

‘Oh yes,’ she gushes, ‘isn’t it? And how are you, dear? Where are you based these days?’

‘Geneva, actually. We’re running our own ski company there now—’ he and Sophie glance briefly at each other ‘—but we’re back visiting my parents while we can.

’ He indicates at the bump, and even though I smile and immediately say congratulations , my chest is pulling so tight.

Why is this happening today of all days?

And why did I have to be having a bloody picnic with my parents?

‘Oh, that all sounds lovely,’ Mum says.

‘And you, Maggie?’ Nick says. He glances behind me at the blanket where my dad is rummaging about in the cool box. ‘Are you still . . . here?’

‘Yup, in Edinburgh, as always,’ I say, trying for chirpy but it ends up landing flat.

‘At the same agency too,’ Mum quips, and my eyes start to burn.

Nick nods, as if he’s not remotely surprised. ‘Well, if you’re ever in the Alps . . .’ He trails off, something like regret crossing his features. ‘Anyway, it’s been great seeing you again.’

‘You too,’ I reply, and a second later they wander away across the lawn.

Once they’re gone, Mum turns to me, a slightly sad expression on her face. ‘Well, that must have been a little painful. He was quite a catch, that one . . . though I’m not sure it would have ever worked out.’

‘Mum,’ I say, throwing my hands up to my face in frustration, and I wish in that moment that I was anywhere but here.

‘What? What is it?’ she says, but I can’t even answer.

A moment later, Jess appears beside us. ‘Just in time for the champagne, I see,’ she says, then looks between us. ‘What happened?’

There’s a strangled pause, as Mum goes to get a glass of bubbles for Jess.

Before I can say anything, Hunter and Sebs rush over, no doubt to argue over who gets the blue cup.

Two peas in a pod. Just like Cat and I were.

She would have made this whole situation lighter somehow; a story to laugh about during the continuing celebrations later.

God, I miss her.

As my heart rate finally starts to slow again, we all settle down with a glass of something, at long last – Mum and I with our Pellegrino, the boys with lemonade and the others with their contraband bubbles. Awful moment with my ex forgotten, for everyone else at least.

‘Well,’ Dad says eventually, ‘I think it’s about time we toasted our darling Maggie.

And what a perfect place we’ve picked for it.

I can still remember when the three of you were just little things pelting around here,’ he says, looking at me with watery eyes.

‘Happy one-year heart anniversary, Maggie.’

Jess gives my hand a squeeze, and I take a breath in.

‘Happy heart anniversary,’ Graham chimes in from his lounging position on the blanket. He raises his glass.

‘Happy heart anniversary,’ they all say.

Jess smiles down at me, mouth trembling, as if to say, you made it.

Yet all I can think is: but Cat didn’t.

Because of me .