Page 124 of The Wedding Forecast

We sit together on the couch in comfortable silence. After a minute, I turn to Hayley.

‘I’m going to message Patrick,’ I say. ‘It’s probably way too late, and I’ve missed my chance, but I’m going to give it a try.’

‘If it’s meant to be, he’ll still be available and interested,’ Hayley says. ‘Trust the universe.’

38

PATRICK IS PICKING me up from the bookshop for our first date. I wore an oversize white shirt today, because I thought it made me look arty and interesting and a little bit sexy when unbuttoned the right amount, but, of course, I spilled coffee on it within seconds of arriving. Despite my best efforts at the tiny sink, I wasn’t able to remove the stain so my options were to wear a stained shirt or put on Bobbi’s ugly shop cardigan. I took off my shirt and wore the cardigan over a singlet top for most of the day, but now, at the end of the day when I’m standing outside, checking the window display I just rearranged, I catch sight of myself in the cardigan in the window reflection, and I look so frumpy that I almost gasp. The cardigan is pilling and looks like it could be my grandmother’s dressing gown. The stained shirt is the only option.

Someone touches my shoulder as I turn my attention back to the window display (I keep changing my mind on whether the new Elizabeth Strout or Claire Keegan should be given pride of place) and I really do gasp then, turning around. It’s Patrick.

‘Hey, sorry to scare you,’ he says.

‘Hey!’ I say brightly. ‘I’m not wearing this,’ I add quickly.

‘You look cute,’ he says. He sounds sincere. How can I ever trust his taste now.

‘It’s the shop cardigan.’

‘I don’t know what that means,’ he says. He sounds apologetic. He’s always so earnestly sweet. I smile and invite him in while I get my things.

I dump the shop cardigan back on its hook. I have a third option: just completely freeze in my singlet even though I’m a firm believer in dressing appropriately for the weather.

Patrick sits in the chair in the corner and watches me fuss around and shut down the computers.

‘You can browse if you like,’ I say. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

‘I’m okay,’ he says.

I am acutely aware of his eyes on me.

‘So where are we going exactly?’ I say.

He was evasive when I asked him earlier, which gives off serial-killer vibes, but Hayley and my mother can both track my phone, and I promised them I wouldn’t go anywhere I didn’t have other people in my eyeline.

‘It’s a surprise,’ he says.

‘A first-date surprise is a bold move,’ I say, smiling.

‘I know,’ he says, looking worried. ‘My mother suggested it and I’ve been rethinking the whole thing ever since.’

Now I laugh.

‘It’ll be fine,’ I say.

‘You’ll be really cold,’ he says, looking at me with concern.

‘We’ll be indoors, right?’

‘No,’ he says, sounding genuinely anguished.

It’s winter. A mild winter night but, still, it’s cold. An outdoor surprise date in Melbourne winter—this is certainly a big swing.

‘Okay. Let me get the ugly cardigan. And let it be known, it’s your fault you have to look at me looking like this for the whole night.’

‘You look nice,’ he says when I return in the cardigan. ‘Honestly. Very nice.’

We bump into each other as we reach the door, and he looks embarrassed and steps back.