Free Never Google Heartbreak by Emma Garcia Page A

pressed the pedals and changed gear. I suddenly wish I could see Granddad just one more time, and feel a bit teary. I glance over as Sam cuddles up to Rob, his arms draped casually around her, his hand gently patting her hip. I close my eyes and take a good few gulps of champagne. Jane’s dad is telling us how much he loves his daughter, how proud she makes him, and warning Hugo that she will never back down in an argument. He proposes a toast to true love, and we all stand. Rob and Sam clink glasses and look into each other’s eyes. Then everyone sits down and I’m left standing, swaying like a tree in the wind. A hush falls over the room. I hear a sort of crashing in my head as faces gawp. Rob looks straight into my eyes, alarm clanging across his face.
    ‘I would like to say something!’ I feel surprised to hear my own raised voice. I glance across to Jane; she looks a bit worried. ‘About true love . . . Because sometimes you don’t realise . . .’ Max grabs my hand, but I pull away. ‘You don’t realise you’ve found true love till it’s too late, and then . . . it’s disappeared.’ I look at Rob with what I hope is an expression of deep meaning, and speak directly to him. ‘It’s not too late for us.’ Sam looks as if an old tramp has just flashed her. ‘I really miss you, Rob.’ There is a horrible silence; then suddenly Max is standing beside me, raising his glass.
    ‘We’d like to propose a toast: to true love! It’s never too late!’ The relieved guests leap to their feet with their drinks held high as I lock my eyes to Rob’s. Voices rise around us.
    ‘True love! It’s never too late!’ He gazes at me for a few seconds with such awful sadness before slowly shaking his head, and I sink down into my seat.
    The excited chatter takes ages to quieten. Hugo stands tinging his glass for all he’s worth, but is ignored. Whole tables turn round, straining to get a look at me. I sit motionless, staring straight ahead. My scalp tingles and I feel a heated blush rise around my ears.
    Max puts his arm around me. ‘You okay?’
    I sniff and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. ‘No.’ I stare at Sam; she’s nodding vigorously with the man next to her; then, catching my eye, she smirks. I stand up suddenly and there is a collective gasp before the room goes silent. She leans back in her chair with a kind of amused expectation on her face. You could hear a pin drop as the room waits for me to speak.
    ‘I . . . I’m just going to the loo.’
    The gasps and giggles start up as I walk out, trying to hold my head up amid murmurs of ‘That dress!’ and ‘Ridiculous!’ As the doors close on the wedding breakfast I whimper and stagger across the hall to the toilets. The ladies’ is tiled in marble, with a brightly lit mirror running the full length of one wall. I see myself walk by, a strange bedraggled ballerina, a doll left out in the rain. I gaze at the reflection: the black eyes stare; the red mouth dominates. I put my hands to my hair, smoothing out the ends and trying to fluff up the helmet-flattened top. I lean my elbows on the little shelf under the mirror and rest my forehead on the heels of my hands. I’m suddenly totally exhausted. I try some vocalisation.
    ‘Oh God. Oh Gooooood.’ It feels good, so I try, ‘Oh no, oh nooooo.’
    I hear the toilet door swish open and quickly lift my head, pretending to apply make-up. It’s her! I look at her reflection as I slide on more red lipstick.
    ‘Was that you I heard crying just now?’ she asks in mock sympathy.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Oh, I thought I heard someone crying, “Oh no,” or something.’
    ‘Not me,’ I say chirpily.
    She doesn’t go to the loo; instead she stands next to me at the mirror and slicks on a little lip gloss. Our faces are so different – she’s honey-coloured and natural; I’m ghostly pale and made up to the nines, and next to her my head looks strangely large. I try not to look. She washes her