SOON AFTER THAT DAY, Willy and Kate invited me over to dinner.
They knew something was going on with me and they wanted to find out what it was.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell them. I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone else to know just yet. But then, as we sat around their TV room, both kids tucked into bed, the moment felt right.
I casually mentioned that there was…a new woman in my life. They surged forward. Who is she?
I’ll tell you, but please, please, please, I need you both to keep it a secret. Yes, Harold, yes, yes—who is it?
She’s an actress.
Oh?
She’s American.
Oh.
On a show called Suits.
Their mouths fell open. They turned to each other.
Then Willy turned to me and said:Â Fuck off! What?
No way. Sorry? Impossible!
I was baffled, until Willy and Kate explained that they were regular—nay, religious—viewers of Suits.
Great, I thought, laughing. I’ve been worrying about the wrong thing. All this time I’d thought Willy and Kate might not welcome Meg into the family, but now I had to worry about them hounding her for an autograph.
They barraged me with questions. I told them a bit of how we’d met, told them about Botswana, told them about Waitrose, told them I was smitten, but overall what I told them was heavily redacted. I just didn’t want to give away too much.
I also said I couldn’t wait for them to meet her, that I looked forward to the four of us spending lots of time together, and I confessed, for the umpteenth time, that this had long been my dream—to join them with an equal partner. To become a foursome. I’d said this to Willy so many times, and he’d always replied: It might not happen, Harold! And you’ve got to be OK with that. Well, now I felt that it was going to happen, and I told him so—but he still said to slow down.
She’s an American actress after all, Harold. Anything might happen.
I nodded, a bit hurt. Then hugged him and Kate and left.
