I arrive fifteen minutes late. Not like me, but these last two weeks have been so surreal that I'm just amazed that I'm functioning almost normally, to be honest. I eat (a bit), work (not very well) and try to sleep, but don't manage much, as the epic bags under my eyes testify.
I suffer from a disease that was completely unknown to me, the one called 'impossible love'. The love I feel for Ian is so deeply rooted inside me that I can hardly function, and at times I even feel as though I'm literally unable to think. It's pretty pathetic get to thirty before finding out what it's like to really fall in love.
I suppose sooner or later it was bound to happen to me.
In any case, after crying non-stop for a couple of weeks, Stacey and my friends have finally convinced me to set foot out of the house, so this evening I'm in this Italian restaurant because I'm meeting Eliott.
Stacey arranged the meeting, not so much to force me to go out with another man as to talk to a psychologist.
A waiter leads me to the table where Eliott is sitting patiently waiting for me and smiling. Lucky him, still having reasons to smile.
“Hello, Jenny,” he greets me, happy to see me.
“Hi Eliott,” I answer, sitting down.
“Normally I'd tell you that you look great, but you don't, to be honest.” I understand that the many sleepless nights are impossible to hide, despite the make-up.
“I appreciate your sincerity, really I do,” I say, smiling. “I do still walk in front of the odd mirror, and what I see isn't exactly reassuring.”
It's the truth, no point trying to get around it.
“At least you're aware of the problem. That's a first step towards healing,” he says in a professional tone.
If only it were all that simple. “I'm afraid this illness will be very long and painful,” I admit, becoming immediately gloomy.
“I take it there wasn't a clean split, then,” says Eliott. We both know who he's talking about, we don't even need to say his name.
I look at him in resignation.
“Clean? Is there any such thing as a clean split? Let's say that in our case, external causes played a role,” I confess. It must be obvious to him that the wound is still raw. “Never get the families involved,” he says, sensing the problem immediately.
“I know, I know. But ours are so difficult that we had to involve them. It would have been totally irresponsible not to,” I explain.
Eliott looks at me as if he was actually dealing with a little girl. “And what does Ian say about it?” he asks. Just hearing his name makes me wince.
“I don't know, to tell you the truth. I haven't had any idea for two weeks,” I admit, not particularly proud of myself.
“You mean you haven't spoken since?” he asks, in surprise.
“Frankly I feel too awful to talk to him. I suppose he feels the same way, because he's never tried to talk to me about it. And if we pass in the hallway, we just try to ignore one another. Perhaps he didn't love me as much as he wanted to believe after all—” I say, pretending not to feel as horrified at the idea as I do.
Eliott laughs. “Believe me, the man I met that evening was one who was very determined and very much in love.”
“We can agree about 'determined', at least.”
“Excuse me, Jenny, but if being apart makes you feel so bad, why not try to get back together?”
It's a question that's anything but stupid. I have asked myself it several times.
“It's not like I haven't thought about it, believe me. I don't like admitting it, but of the two of us, the one who was most certain was Ian. Without him, I don't know how to do it. It's as if I'm suddenly wandering around in the dark.”
Eliott looks at me kindly, with understanding. “So if you could go back in time, you wouldn't break up with him?” he asks.
I look at him with sad eyes. “No, I don't think I would. It was a stupid thing to do. Now I understand that our families are important, but not as much as us. They can't tell us how to live our lives. I'm afraid I've learned the hard way that they either accept us the way we are, or… or they can piss off!”
Eliott looks very satisfied with my answer. “So what's stopping you from going to get him back?” he asks.
I rest my elbows on the table and hide my head in my hands in desperation. “But how?” I moan. “He's bound to have got somebody else already. His diary's probably full of dates with one of his brain-dead barbies.”
I hear my psychologist friend chuckling softly. “Something tells me that it isn't—” he says, enigmatically.
I lift my head. “What do you mean?”
Eliott points to the figure of a man who has just entered the restaurant. Unfortunately, I'd recognize Ian anywhere and at any distance. As he walks over, I realise with surprise that he's not looking too great either: he's got a few day's growth of stubble and his eyes are lacking their usual electricity.
With long, determined strides, he approaches our table.
“Ian,” I exclaim in surprise, with an expression that must be a mixture of joy and terror. What the hell is he doing here? And above all, how did he know that he would find me here?
Ian says a quick hello to Eliott, who greets him in an almost amused tone, and then stares at me intensely. “Jennifer—” he says, sounding very resolute.
I'm about to speak but he cuts me off with a gesture of his hand. “I know that it wasn't a great idea just turning up here like this—” he says.
“I'm not—” I say, but he cuts me off again.
“Please don't interrupt me,” he says, and gets even closer. “I prepared a bit of a speech while I was driving over here and I'm afraid I'll forget the lot if you don't let me finish. I haven't been sleeping that well for the last couple of weeks, so I'm not quite myself.”
“Tell me about it,” I reply softly, but he doesn't hear.
He takes my hand as soon as I stand up, while the entire restaurant around us watches the scene.
“First of all, I shouldn't have gone off like that during lunch. I should have stayed there and tried to make you think straight,” Ian says. “Because I know that eventually I could have talked you round.”
“Actually—” I tell him, but he stops me again.
“Second thing, I shouldn't have gone on about moving in together, because the truth is that I'm not really the living-together type.”
I look at him blankly, not understanding what he's talking about: so in the end he didn't even want to live with me after all? I try not to show how hurt I am, but it's hard.
“Jenny, I'm not that type of guy. I'm sorry, but I have to do this and I have to do it my way. When I've finished you can answer me and send me packing for good, if you want. I swear that I'll never barge in on you while you're having dinner or you're out on a date again.”
What on earth is he talking about?
“And so—” he starts, as he hunts for something in his jacket pocket. He pulls out a small blue velvet box and takes a deep breath as he visibly steels himself.
Suddenly I start trembling and feeling as though I might be sick. Still holding my hand, which in the meantime has gone very cold, Ian kneels down in front of me. The whole restaurant breathes a unanimous sigh of surprise.
“Jennifer Percy, I know that you're going to tell me to get lost, and maybe I deserve it, but I have to ask you anyway.” For a moment there's a pause during which there is no sound, not even of cutlery.
“Will you marry me?” he asks, the emotion audible in his voice.
And so saying, still looking me straight in the eyes, he opens the box containing the biggest diamond I've ever seen in my life. I guess this is the famous five carats the Duke was talking about that day…
I stand there for a moment, speechless and too surprised to answer.
From behind me, I hear a girl say, “I swear to God, if she doesn't marry him, I will!”
The phrase brings a slow smile to my lips, because at that moment it's suddenly clear to me that there's nothing for it but to marry him. I, who'd never even dreamed of doing anything like that, am sure that I've finally met the only person in the world to whom I can say yes.
Ian continues to look worriedly at me. “I understand that it's a shock… and I'm slightly embarrassed myself to be standing here in front of everybody—” he says, half seriously.
“You were the one who decided to do it in such a public place, Ian,” I tease him with a smile, “I'd have thought you'd have learned something from all those years of having the paparazzi on your back.”
My smile melts away some of his tension. “I will admit that I didn't waste much time when your sister called me to tell me that you had a date tonight,” he explains in his defence.
“My sister did what?” I ask him in amazement. Apparently Stacey had a diabolical plan when she talked me into going out.
“Anyway, this isn't really a date—” I explain.
“Yes, but she also said that without me you were a mess,” admits Ian.
I was much more than a mess, I think.
“Right, now that I have gone through with this madness, can I get up? I know that you'll need time to reflect… and frankly I'd rather be rejected in private, now that I think about it.”
But I stop him as he starts to rise. “Stay where you are,” I say.
“It's not very comfortable—” Ian complains with a grimace.
“You're only going to suffer for a little bit longer. How many more times you are ever likely to ask a woman to marry you?” I ask him seriously.
“If you give me the answer I'm hoping for, I swear it'll be the last.”
I pretend to be thinking. “Are you sure, Ian? Our life together will be a mess,” I remind him.
He sighs impatiently. “Would I have been on my knees for twenty minutes in front of half of bloody London if I wasn't sure?”
He says it so sweetly that I can't help melting. “No, I don't suppose you would.”
“Jennifer, an answer please,” he says, nervously.
I watch as those beautiful blue eyes slowly start shining again.
“Of course I will,” I say in a faint voice. “And you knew it.”
He finally gets up off the floor and with a sudden gesture grabs me and kisses me until I'm not sure I know what's going on any more. All around us I hear comments of approval and applause.
“I hoped you would,” he confesses, “but I'm never sure of anything when it comes to you.”
He squeezes me tightly to him as though he really is afraid of losing me. What is he thinking? From this moment on he won't have a chance of getting rid of me, no matter how hard he tries.
“Sorry, but where the hell did the famous ring disappear to?” I ask him, laughing.
“All yours,” he says as he shoves it onto the ring finger of my left hand.
The stone is so big and shiny that if I keep staring at it I'll probably pass out.
“It weighs a ton!” I complain.
“Of course – that way you'll never forget that you're mine. And neither will anybody else.”
I look him in the eyes, and try to sound serious. “I swear, I would've said yes even if it had been a half carat zircon.”
He takes my face gently in his hands and carries on kissing me.
“I know, Jennifer. Believe me, that's exactly the point.”