Thirteen Weddings by Paige Toon Page B

involves trawling through every page of the magazine, marking down which picture came from which agency and how much each one cost.
It’s so we know our picture expenditure for each month and it’s very, very boring, but it ensures we don’t overpay anyone. It’s usually the assistant’s job, not the
picture editor’s, and it’s by no means urgent. But judging by Nicky’s face, it’s not up for discussion.
    I put down my magazine and get on with my work.
    I’m lonely that following weekend. Rachel is doing a wedding with Sally, and Bridget has gone to a leaving party in Cambridgeshire with her friend Marty. She invited me
to go with them, but I don’t know the people who are leaving: a friend of hers who nearly died last autumn when she was hit by a car, and her American-Cuban boyfriend who’s apparently
keen to take her back to Key West where they met. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable gate-crashing, even though Bridget said the boyfriend had to be seen to be believed. She really needs to get
herself a man.
    As for me, I haven’t been with anyone since... Well, I haven’t had a boyfriend since Jason, but I haven’t
been
with anyone since Alex.
    He’s been thoroughly pleasant to me this week and I’m starting to think we could be friends, even though my heart still hurts a little sometimes when I look at him. I’ll get
over it. He came for a quick drink on Friday night, but left early to go for dinner with Zara. I wonder what she’s like.
    I passed on Rachel’s details and they’re meeting up this week. I hope it works out for both of them. I thought a lot about Rachel on Saturday. Sally had better not be taking her job
for granted.
    ‘When are you meeting Rachel?’ I ask Alex on Monday morning.
    ‘Tomorrow lunchtime. She’s coming into town.’
    ‘Is it just you going?’ I don’t know why I asked that.
    ‘No, Zara’s coming to meet us.’
    ‘Cool. Rachel always likes to meet the bride and groom together. Get ready to dazzle her with your proposal story.’ I try to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. I don’t feel
enthusiastic. ‘She’ll want to hear all the gushy details.’
    ‘Oh. It’s not very exciting. We just decided to get married.’
    ‘What?’ I exclaim. ‘You didn’t give your girlfriend of almost a decade a proper proposal?’
    He frowns and then gives me a quizzical look. ‘You remember how long we’ve been together?’
    I shrug. ‘Yeah. I wasn’t that drunk,’ I add and my face heats up under his amused gaze.
    The truth is, I remember everything about that night – the fact that he and his girlfriend have been together since university is just one detail of many. That’s not to say I
wasn’t surprised myself when he remembered I didn’t like weddings.
    ‘Back to it, then,’ I say, rather than taking the conversation further.
    Late on Tuesday afternoon, Clare comes into the office. ‘Can we gather?’ Simon calls to everyone, so we get up from our desks and congregate in the middle of the
room.
    ‘I have some sales information,’ he says, and from the look on his face, it’s good.
    It turns out, last week’s Joseph Strike baby bump issue saw our sales shoot up by over 50 per cent. Everyone gasps and bursts into spontaneous applause at the news.
    ‘Thank you to everyone who worked on the article,’ Simon continues. ‘But special thanks to Bronte for acquiring those stunning pictures
and
the interview.’ I try
to contain my blush as everyone looks at me. ‘If you don’t already know, Bronte’s friend works at the conservation park where these shots were taken. In fact, her friend took the
pictures herself. She could have sold them to anyone, but she sold them to us. So thank you, Bronte.’
    ‘Well done, Bronte,’ Clare chips in.
    My colour deepens as everyone claps again – some more enthusiastically than others. I notice Nicky roll her eyes at Helen, who smirks, but even that doesn’t bother me. Warmth washes
away my embarrassment