And yes, he hogged the duvet and could occasionally be arrogant in his opinions on art and film and music,
but there was nothing overtly wrong with him. Well – now that she thought about it – he’d never been supportive of her music career,
and had advised her that being in The Labyrinths and signing a music deal would be bad for her mental health,
and that her brother was being a bit selfish. But at the time she had viewed that not so much as a red flag but a green one.
Her thinking was: he cared, and it was nice to have someone who cared, who wasn’t bothered about fame and superficialities,
and could help navigate the waters of life. And so when he had asked her to marry him, in the cocktail bar on the top floor of the Oxo Tower,
she had agreed and maybe she had always been right to agree.
He stepped forward into the room, placed his pint down momentarily and was now on his phone, looking up better pub quiz questions.
She wondered how much he had drunk tonight. She wondered if the dream of owning a pub had really been a dream of drinking an endless supply of alcohol.
“What is the name of a twenty-sided polygon?” “I don’t know,” Nora lied,
not wanting to risk a similar reaction to the one she’d received a moment ago.
He put the phone in his pocket. “We did well, though. They all drank loads tonight. Not bad for a Tuesday. Things are looking up.
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