Free Remember Me? by Sophie Kinsella Page B

smiling at each other. We look so
glossy
. Like people in a magazine.
    This is my wedding. My actual, real live wedding. If I needed proof…this is proof.
    From the TV screen suddenly comes the mingled sound of people laughing and chattering. I look up and feel a fresh shock. Up there on the telly, Eric and I are posing in our wedding outfits. We’re standing next to a huge white cake, holding a knife together, laughing at someone off screen. I can’t take my eyes off myself.
    “We chose not to record the ceremony,” Eric is explaining. “This is the party afterward.”
    “Right.” My voice is a tad husky.
    I’ve never been sappy about weddings. But as I watch us cutting the cake, smiling for the cameras, posing again for someone who missed the shot…my nose starts to prickle. This is my wedding day, the so-called happiest day of my life, and I don’t remember a thing about it.
    The camera swings around, catching the faces of people I don’t recognize. I spot Mum, in a navy suit, and Amy, wearing a purple strappy dress. We’re in some huge, modern-looking space with glass walls and trendy chairs and floral arrangements everywhere, and people are spilling out onto a wide terrace, champagne glasses in their hands.
    “Where’s this place?” I ask.
    “Sweetheart…” Eric gives a disconcerted laugh. “This is our home.”
    “Our
home
? But it’s massive! Look at it!”
    “It’s the penthouse.” He nods. “It’s a nice size.”
    A “nice size”? It’s like a football field. My little Balham flat would probably fit on one of those rugs.
    “And who’s that?” I point at a pretty girl in a baby-pink strapless dress who’s whispering in my ear.
    “That’s Rosalie. Your best friend.”
    My
best friend
? I’ve never seen this woman before in my life. She’s skinny and tanned, with huge blue eyes, a massive bracelet on her wrist, and sunglasses pushed up on her blond, California-girl hair.
    She sent me flowers, I suddenly remember.
Darling girl…love, Rosalie.
    “Does she work at Deller Carpets?”
    “No!” Eric smiles as though I’ve cracked a joke. “This bit is fun.” He gestures toward the screen. The camera is following us as we walk out onto the terrace, and I can just hear myself laughing and saying, “Eric, what are you up to?” Everyone is looking up for some reason. I have no idea why—
    And then the camera focuses and I see it. Skywriting.
Lexi I will love you forever.
On the screen, everyone is gasping and pointing, and I see myself staring up, pointing, shading my eyes, then kissing Eric.
    My husband organized surprise skywriting for me on my wedding day and
I can’t bloody remember it
? I want to weep.
    “Now, this is us on holiday in Mauritius last year…” Eric has fast-forwarded the DVD and I stare disbelievingly at the screen. Is that girl walking along the sand
me
? My hair’s braided and I’m tanned and thin and wearing a red string bikini. I look like the kind of girl I’d normally gaze at with envy.
    “And this is us at a charity ball…” Eric’s fast-forwarded and there we are again. I’m wearing a slinky blue evening dress, dancing with Eric in a grand-looking ballroom.
    “Eric is a
very
generous benefactor,” Mum says, but I don’t respond. I’m riveted by a handsome, dark-haired guy standing near the dance floor. Wait a moment. Don’t I…know him from somewhere?
    I do. I do. I definitely recognize him. At last!
    “Lexi?” Eric has noticed my expression. “Is this jolting your memory?”
    “Yes!” I can’t help a joyful smile. “I remember that guy on the left.” I point at the screen. “I’m not sure who he is exactly, but I
know
him. Really well! He’s warm, and funny, and I think maybe he’s a doctor…or maybe I met him in a casino—”
    “Lexi…” Eric gently cuts me off. “That’s George Clooney, the actor. He was a fellow guest at the ball.”
    “Oh.” I rub my nose, discomfited. “Oh right.”
    George Clooney. Of course