I took a deep breath and rustled my phone out of my pocket. Before I had a chance to talk myself out of five months of aversion therapy, I dialled.
‘Hello?’ he answered on the first ring.
‘Hey,’ I said softly, thrown by his voice. ‘Alex?’
‘Angela?’ he asked. He sounded sleepy.
‘Yep,’ I smiled. When was I going to learn to think about what I was going to say on the phone before I called people? ‘I was just thinking about what you said? About seeing the city when it snowed. And I saw the interview. About the new album.’
‘Interview? Snow?’ he yawned. ‘Angela, are you in New York?’
‘Yes,’ I said, hopefully. ‘Actually, I’m in Max Brenner’s. I was thinking about – about, well, you.’
‘You were?’ he asked. I hoped I could hear a smile in his voice.
‘I wondered if you fancied a hot chocolate?’ I asked, crossing as many of my fingers as gripping my phone would allow.
‘Uhh,’ he paused for half a moment. ‘Angela?’
‘Yes?’ I said. Please don’t hang up, I prayed silently.
‘You took a really long time to call me,’ he said. ‘But I’m really glad you did.’
‘Me too,’ I said happily. ‘Now get your arse out of bed and come meet me.’
I hung up and put my phone in my bag, taking out The Look. I opened it on my page and looked at the intro.
The Adventures of Angela. Twenty-something ex-Londoner, Angela Clark, guides us through life and love, finding friends and finding her way in the Big Apple.
It wasn’t a very complete description, I thought, but at least it was somewhere to start.
The wedding was perfect.
Just ten people at City Hall, no hymns, no readings, no fuss; and then over to Alta in the West Village for the reception. Tiny candles flickered in the faces of my favourite people: Jenny, Vanessa, Erin. And Alex. God, he looked pretty in a suit. I made a mental note to get that boy a three-piece more often. Like maybe at our wedding … no, bad Angela, too soon to even think it. Dum-dum-dee-dum …
‘So you don’t think I’m making a ridiculous mistake?’ Erin whispered over my shoulder, bringing me back with a bump. ‘I mean, it can’t be six months since I was telling you I would never get married again.’
I shook my head. ‘Not at all.’ I glanced over at the new Mr Erin, or Thomas as he was known to his friends. Or ‘that mad hot piece of ass’ as he was known to Jenny. ‘You wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t absolutely the right thing to do.’
‘Uh, which it totally is. Hello?’ Jenny Lopez swung in and planted a great big kiss on the bride, smudging Mac Ruby Woo lipstick all over her face. ‘He’s a super-hot, super-rich lawyer and super in love with you. I’m pretty sure they are the main three factors to take into consideration before you hitch your wagon. Plus, wow, classiest wagon ever. Even better than your last wedding. And way better than the one before that.’
‘My God, you are so rude,’ Erin playfully slapped Jenny’s mass of chocolate brown curls. ‘But you’re right. I couldn’t not marry him. He’s so sweet.’
‘Yeah, sweet. I’m totally only getting married when the guy can rent out my favourite restaurant for an entire Saturday evening.’ Jenny sighed and sank a full flute of champagne. ‘Doesn’t Thomas have any single friends? And I do mean, single, rich lawyer friends?’
I couldn’t stop smiling. The last wedding I’d been to hadn’t been such a roaring success. I had started the day as a blushing bridesmaid with a devoted fiancé and ended up a high-heel-wielding hand-breaker, whose devoted fiancé was at it with some tart in the back of their Range Rover.
After leaving everyone in the wedding party in tears and/or hospital, I had hotfooted it over to New York only to be taken in by Jenny: an entire family, best friend and therapist all in one. It hadn’t been a walk in Central Park but I’d found my way eventually. A job blogging for The Look magazine, great friends, an actual life, all the things that had been missing for so long. As a hand slid around my waist and pulled me close, I was reminded of the other thing I’d found in New York: Alex Reid.
‘So this is the nicest wedding I think I’ve ever been to,’ he gently pressed his lips against my skin. ‘And I have the hottest date here.’
‘Firstly, there are only eight girls in the entire wedding and secondly, it’s still not even true,’ I said, turning to brush Alex’s long black fringe out of his eyes. ‘Erin looks stunning, Jenny is ridiculously pretty in that dress and Vanessa—’
‘Will you please just take the compliment?’ Alex shook his head. ‘And I don’t care what you say, there’s not a girl in the whole city that could compare with you right now.’
I wrinkled my nose and accepted a kiss, silently thanking my lucky stars. We’d met just after I had arrived in New York and got far too serious, far too quickly. He had put the brakes