Page 57 of The Wedding Forecast

HAYLEY AND LUKE give a warm and funny thank-you toast at brunch the next morning. Somehow, they look rested and radiant, despite being the last ones home last night. I am hiding behind sunglasses, and so is Joel, and so is Mac. I am avoiding them both, sitting with the mums and Jean.

‘You’re quiet this morning,’ Mum says.

‘I’m fine,’ I say. I am wearing sunglasses because my eyes are puffy. From drinking. From crying is the bigger truth.

‘Did something happen last night, sweetheart?’ Bobbi asks at a volume about three times louder than I would like.

I shake my head. ‘I’m just tired.’

‘Darling—’ Mum starts.

‘Mum, please. I’m hungover. I have a headache.’

‘Well, then I’m worried about your drinking.’

‘Mum—’ I don’t have the energy to finish that sentence. I get up, and walk over to the croissants and orange juice.

Mac appears at my side. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

‘When’s your flight?’ I say.

‘Tonight.’

‘Oh. I didn’t think it would be so soon.’

‘It’s a red-eye. 11 pm tonight. So basically tomorrow.’

‘Right.’

‘You could, you should—’ He stops. ‘You should come and visit sometime.’

‘I would love that,’ I say.

Our words feel empty and hollow.

He sits down and I take the chair beside him. He looks rumpled and hungover, but in a hot way, and he smells unbelievably good. I feel like a sewer rat in comparison.

‘Anna, Patrick told me to give you his number,’ Hayley says, leaping onto my lap.

‘Oh, yeah, he mentioned he would last night.’

‘A love affair at my own wedding, I can’t believe it,’ Hayley says.

‘As it was foretold,’ I say.

‘He is perfect for you.’

‘He’s nice,’ I say.

‘I really need to see a bit more enthusiasm from you about this,’ she says. ‘Mac, say something.’

‘Say what?’

‘Tell Anna that she has a perfect guy right in front of her and she needs to do something about it.’

There’s a moment of silence, and Mac lifts up his sunglasses and looks at me. I’m still wearing mine but I swear he can see into my eyes.