I've Got Your Number

“I don’t know who you are.” I gaze miserably at Nemo and Dory. “You lied about everything. I can’t marry someone who’s a lying cheat. So you might as well go. I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”

Magnus heaves another huge sigh.

“Poppy … OK. I made a mistake. Hands up. I’ll admit it.”

“A ‘mistake’?” I echo sarcastically.

“Yes, a mistake! I’m not perfect, OK?” He thrusts his fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “Is that what you expect out of a man? Perfection? You want a flawless man? Because, believe me, that man doesn’t exist. And if that’s why you’re calling off this wedding, because I made one simple error … ” He holds his hands out, his eyes reflecting the colored light of the TV. “I’m human, Poppy. I’m a flawed, imperfect human being.”

“I don’t want a flawless man,” I snap. “I want a man who doesn’t sleep with my wedding planner.”

“We don’t choose our flaws, unfortunately. And I’ve regretted my weakness over and over again.”

How is he managing to sound all noble, like he’s the victim here?

“Well, poor old you.” I turn up the volume of Finding Nemo, but, to my surprise, Magnus grabs the remote and switches it off. I blink at him in the sudden silence.

“Poppy, you can’t be serious. You can’t want to call everything off for one tiny—”

“It’s not only that.” I feel an old, burning hurt in my chest. “You never told me about all your other fiancées. You never told me you’d proposed to Lucinda. I thought that ring was special. Your mum’s got it, by the way.”

“I have proposed to other girls,” he says slowly. “But now I can’t think why.”

“Because you loved them?”

“No,” he says with a sudden fierceness. “I didn’t. I was nuts. Poppy, you and I—we’re different. We could make it. I know we could. We just have to get through the wedding—”

“Get through it?”

“That’s not what I mean.” He breathes out impatiently. “Look, come on, Poppy. The wedding’s all set up. It’s all arranged. It’s not about what happened with Lucinda, it’s about you and me. We can do it. I want to do it. I really want to do this.” He’s speaking with such fervor, I stare at him in surprise.

“Magnus—”

“Will this change your mind?” To my astonishment, he sinks down on one knee beside the sofa and reaches in his pocket. I stare speechlessly as he opens a little jewelry box. Inside is a ring made of twisted golden strands, with a tiny diamond perched at the side.

“Where … where did that come from?” I can hardly find my voice.

“I bought it for you in Bruges.” He clears his throat, as though embarrassed to admit it. “I was walking along the street one day. Saw it in a window, thought of you.”

I can’t believe it. Magnus bought a ring for me. Specially for me. I can hear Wanda’s voice in my head: When he really wants to commit to someone, he’ll find a ring for himself. He’ll choose something carefully. Give it some thought.

But I can’t relax.

“Why did you choose this ring?” I probe. “Why did it make you think of me?”

“The strands of gold.” He gives an abashed smile. “They reminded me of your hair. Not the color, obviously,” he amends quickly. “The shine.”

That was a good answer. Quite romantic. I raise my eyes and he gives me a hopeful, lopsided smile.

Oh God. When Magnus is sweet and puppy-dog like, he’s almost irrestistible.

Thoughts are still spinning round my head. So he made a mistake. A big, big mistake. Am I going to throw away everything for that? Am I so perfect myself? Let’s face it, twenty-four hours ago my arms were wrapped around another man in a wood.

I feel a tiny pang in my chest at the thought of Sam and give myself a mental shakedown. Stop. Don’t go there. I got carried away by the situation, that’s all. Maybe Magnus did too.

“What do you think?” Magnus is watching me eagerly.

“I love it,” I whisper. “It’s amazing.”

“I know.” He nods. “It’s exquisite. Like you. And I want you to wear it. So, Poppy … “ He puts his warm hand on mine. “Sweetest Poppy … will you?”

“Oh God, Magnus,” I say helplessly. “I don’t know … ” My new iPhone is flashing with messages and I pick it up to buy myself some time. There’s a brand-new email from [email protected].

My heart skips a beat. I sent Sam my new number this afternoon, just so that he had it. And at the last minute I added, Sorry about this afternoon, with a couple of kisses. Simply to clear the air. Now he’s answering me. At midnight. What does he want to say? With trembling fingers, my thoughts veering onto wild possibilities, I click on the message.

“Poppy?” Magnus sounds a little affronted. “Sweets? Could we focus?”

Sam is delighted to have received your email. He’ll get back to you as soon as he possibly can. Meanwhile, thanks for your interest.