their intention, rather than questioning the sense of the plan. It’s an important nuance.
‘Of course!’ Everyone choruses at once. Everyone, except one person, that is. I’m staring at Adam and he’s silent.
‘I know it’s going to be hard giving up all that wealth: the designer clothes, the mansion, the jewellery,’ says Lisa.
‘The helicopter, the private jet,’ adds Charlie.
‘But you have to,’ says my sister, flatly.
‘Money never brought anyone happiness,’ adds my aunt. I don’t actually think she’s right about this but I know what she’s getting at, besides it’s impossible to argue with her when she adds, ‘I mean, Scott isn’t actually happy, is he?’
‘You can’t buy love,’ notes my dad.
‘I know, I know all this,’ I snap. I don’t think I can bear to listen to another one of their platitudes. Of course I know what I have to do. I have to dump Scott and walk away from the wedding of a lifetime. I have to say cheerio to the most glitzy future imaginable – I know that. It’s just a hard thing to do. I wanted my life to be exquisitely special, distinctly not ordinary, but now I realize that the only way it can be that is by being honest with myself. I used to wonder, if I could have anything what would I ask for? A bath full of M&Ms to sit in? A room full of actors to chat to? A wardrobe full of designer clothes to lounge in? None of the above. Being with Scott is not what I want. I look at Adam, Adam is what I want. I smile at him gently, sure that he’ll communicate his support. With a single glance he’ll make it easier for me to walk away from all that glitters and towards what’s truly golden. Easy.
Abruptly he stands up, grabs his battered leather jacket and walks towards the door. In a flash I push past my mum and everyone else, and follow him out of the restaurant.
67. Fern
‘Hey, Adam.’
My voice cuts through the warm night air. He stops and turns. He stares at me and I’m doused with feelings of almost painful tenderness. He waits for me to say something else. But what do I want to say? What can I say? This has been the most bizarre and painful night of my life. The image of Ben’s bum sticking out of my bed sheets is scored on to my brain. I can’t compute the level of betrayal. But that’s not the only thing I’m grappling with. Suddenly, I am certain that Adam’s steady solidness, his reliability and calmness out-wows Scott’s front-man antics. Yes, Scott is dynamic and innovative – he’s also exhausting and disloyal. Scott feasts on adulation and acts on abandon. It’s all a bit much for me. I’m shrouded in the overwhelming belief that all the sorrow of tonight will be washed away if Adam just holds me. I don’t know what I’m hoping to gain from his touch, where I’m hoping it will lead, but I know that I definitely don’t want Adam to walk away right now; I have a feeling that will be more of a loss than chucking away the jewels and the helicopter. Way, way more. I used to believe that Adam proposing would make my life more luminous, glorious and triumphant. Now I’m sure that being with him, married or not, would be just that.
But Adam didn’t join the rest of my family in their resounding calls for me not to marry Scott. Is it possible that Adam is past caring what I do?
‘Do you think I should marry him?’ I ask.
‘That’s a stupid question, Fern.’ Adam sighs and pulls his hands through his hair. He looks weary.
‘Could you take me back?’ I blurt. ‘I’d give it all up for you – the fame and money and stuff. I’d give up the mansion with the pools and the cars and the store cards and the –’
‘No, Fern. I’m sorry. No.’ Adam stares me full in the soul. ‘You can’t go backwards. I don’t want to be the guy you ran back to.’
My ears start to buzz as a burning heat creeps through my body. Humiliation seeps into every pore, leaks into my bloodstream and carousels through my body. Humiliation and sour, sour, disappointment. What was I thinking? Did I really expect Adam to fling his arms open and say, ‘Come back, Fern-girl, all is forgiven’? How stupid of me. How pathetic.