They all look to Nadine. She sighs. ‘Okay, the truth is that we didn’t want to be around those stuck up old people. I mean, do you even know any of them?’
I roll my eyes. ‘The only people I know are you guys.’
Sympathetic eyes settle on me.
‘It’s fine, though,’ I quickly add dismissively. ‘Kelly’s right. Let’s get drunk!’
By half eleven everyone is completely shit-faced, but even though I’ve sunk quite a few I can’t seem to get there. I can’t dismiss the unsettling feeling of melancholy that settles on me whenever I think of Hugh in there laughing with all of those pompous people. Is this what my married life is going to be like? Us living separate lives?
Maybe that’s why he wants me. So, that he can carry on with his life and just rely on someone to look pretty and shag every now and again. I’m not on board with that. I want a partner that treats me like an equal. Not some trophy wife bimbo.
I say goodbye to everyone as they run off to get an Uber. Mia hangs back though.
‘You okay, babe?’ I ask her.
‘Yeah,’ she nods, her eyes sympathetic, ‘but are you?’
I plaster on a fake smile. ‘What do you mean?’
Just because I’m upset doesn’t mean I want everyone worried about me. That’ll just add to the stress.
‘I mean, aren’t you worried that you just spent your entire engagement party outside with us instead of with your fiancée?’
‘Mia!’ Nadine calls from the taxi. ‘Hurry up!’
She smiles kindly at me before turning and running to catch up with them.
She’s right. Of course, I know she’s right. This whole thing is a sham.
I rub my arms, the cold night air seeping into my bones now I don’t have Mum’s poncho to keep me warm. I wander back into the reception room to find only a few stragglers remaining. My first reaction should be to find Hugh, but I find myself turning and walking into another empty room at the end and sitting in front of the open fire. Now that the warm flames lick at my body I realise how cold I’ve been outside. My body’s like ice. I stare despondently at the blue and orange flames.
‘Here you are.’
I turn my head to see Hugh sighing with relief, running his hand through his hair. ‘Thank God. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
‘Really?’ I ask vaguely, staring back at the fire. He can’t have looked that far, or he’d have found me.
‘Yeah. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been stuck chatting to every boring bastard going while trying to find you and escape early.’
Likely story. It’s not like he’s going to admit he was having a whale of a time and barely noticed I’d gone until the party ended.
‘I was only outside.’ I’m glad I’m not looking at him so he can’t see the hurt pouring from my every pore.
His footsteps walk closer. ‘Outside? What the hell were you doing outside?’ He kneels behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
If I weren’t so cold I’d shrug him off; let him know just how pissed off I am. But his body is warm and toasty, and mine can’t help but gravitate towards it.
‘Shit, you’re freezing,’ he gasps. He takes his jacket off and lays it over my shoulders.
My mood melts slightly at the warm gesture.
‘I was outside with my Mum and friends. You know,’ I add bitchily, ‘people I actually know.’
He sighs, his body sagging against mine. ‘I know exactly what you mean. My mother must have invited every single person she’s ever met, yet my Grandma couldn’t come.’
I turn to face him. He looks weary. Frown lines are etched into his forehead that weren’t there at the beginning of the night.
‘Tell me married life isn’t going to be like this?’
He touches my chin and stares deeply into my eyes. ‘I promise with all of my heart that life with me will be nothing like this.’ He places a soft kiss on my lips.
That’s exactly what I needed to hear.
‘It’s made me decide something anyway,’ I admit, wondering how he’s going to react to my decision. ‘I’m sorry, but I’d much rather get married in that shit hole of a pub with people I know and love, than have some circus and feel like a trophy wife paraded in to be looked at and not spoken to.’
He smiles, his eyes looking deep into mine. ‘You want to get married in the pub?’
I smile back with a nod. ‘I’m happy with that. I’ve never needed a big wedding.’
He tucks a stray bit of hair behind my ear. ‘That’s one of the things I’m learning to love about you. You don’t give a shit about what people think. You care about the real things. And that’s exactly what our marriage will be. Real.’
With words like that soothing over my frayed nerves it’s easy to melt into the moment, the heat of the fire on my face, his body heat on my back. I just hope they’re not just words.
Chapter Nine
Saturday 10th December
‘So these are your hand-held scanners. Feel free to wander round and ‘zap’ whatever you fancy.’
Hugh and I share excited faces. We decided to spend today getting registered at John Lewis. Finally, a fun wedding activity.
I put my scanner to his face, like a gun. ‘You better stay on the right side of me. Whatever I want gets scanned, okay?’ I joke, creasing up in laughter.
He grabs my hand and starts dragging me along behind him. ‘Come on, let’s head to the TV’s.’
Is he serious?
‘No way! You seriously think someone is going to spend that much on us?’ I ask unconvinced.
‘Who knows,’ he grins mischievously. ‘But it’s worth a cheeky scan, right?’
We get to the TV area, and he’s instantly cooing about all of the technology, rambling on about HD, 3D, Smart TV. It’s all like another language to me. I couldn’t care less.
‘Yeah, just get whatever you want,’ I agree dismissively.
He goes to scan a 65” TV. Apart from that monster!
‘Woah! You don’t seriously think that will fit in our new house, do you?’ I ask, blinking rapidly.
He narrows his eyebrows at me. ‘You mean, the new house that we haven’t bought yet?’
‘Yeah, but it’s not going to be a mansion, is it? Especially if we want to stay within a commute to London.’
It definitely won’t fit that monstrosity in it. Why the hell would anyone want to watch a TV that big?
‘So we’ll just buy a house around the TV,’ he shrugs with a smile.
Is he serious? I hope to God not.
‘Why don’t we move on to homewares,’ I suggest. ‘Something a bit more fun.’
He rolls his eyes. Clearly, the thought of throw cushions repulses him. Weirdo. But, ever the team player, he wanders with me over to the plates.
As I look down at them, I realise I have no idea what style we plan to decorate the new place. The new place we haven’t even chosen yet. Maybe I’ll get an idea from his choice of plates.
‘What kind of plates do you like?’ I ask, attempting to sound as easy going as possible.
He looks over them quickly. Too quickly for my liking. Doesn’t he realise what he’s about to tell me may make or break our future harmony together?
‘These are nice.’ He picks up a square slate plate. Modern, edgy. Totally not my style. Dammit. Maybe if I suggest something I like, he’ll see that they’re an option too.
‘Aren’t these adorable,’ I ask hopefully, holding up the most gorgeous plate. It’s white in the centre with duck egg blue and yellow edging—vintage red roses splashed across them. It’s vibrant but graceful. Vintage, but still modern. Plus, so adorable.
‘Yeah,’ he snorts. ‘If you’re an eighty-five-year-old.’
My mouth pops open in shock. ‘Are you serious?’
How can he offend these beautiful plates? What is wrong with the man?
‘Are you?’ he asks in disbelief. ‘Did you honestly expect me to like that? It’s too fucking g
irly.’
I force myself to look at the plate from his perspective. I suppose it is kind of feminine. Doesn’t stop me wanting it though. Maybe we can get it and only take it out when my friends come over. They’d bloody love it. Plus, the set has a matching cake stand.
‘This is pointless anyway,’ he announces with a sigh. ‘Before we know what kind of kitchen we have, we won’t know what we want. We should be house viewing today instead.’
I slump, feeling defeated. I just wanted to do something fun. The truth is, I really don’t want to leave my flat, but I suppose I need to grow up and move on. God, just the thought of living with a guy is giving me hives. What if he leaves his dirty socks on the floor? What if he shaves in the sink and doesn’t clean up after himself?
‘Hugh?’ a woman’s voice calls, breaking me from my horrifying thoughts.
We both turn, plates in hands, to face a tall red head with glossy Victorian ringlet curls. She’s got pale porcelain skin with not one single blemish on it and piercing blue eyes. She could be a model. Who the hell is this?
‘Felicity,’ he gasps, his face paling. ‘What are you doing here?’
She grins. ‘Shopping, obviously,’ she giggles.
Oh my god. This is Felicity; the ex girlfriend. The girlfriend his Mum wanted him to marry. No wonder Hugh’s looking so freaked.
‘What about you?’ she enquires, looking at me with interest.
He shakes his head as if trying to clear his mind. ‘This is my fiancée, Florence.’ He takes my elbow and pulls me over to him before wrapping his arm protectively around me.
‘Ah,’ she nods. ‘I never got to meet you last night.’
She attended my engagement party? Hugh’s ex-girlfriend? I look to Hugh, and then back at her.
‘You were there last night? At our engagement party?’
‘More than you, it seems.’ She throws back her head in a totally ridiculous over the top posh laugh. Imagine a horse having a panic attack, and you’re almost there. ‘Poor Hugh here was very fraught, looking for you.’
I look back at him. He’s fidgeting from foot to foot, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but here right now.
‘Nice to finally meet you,’ she says extending her perfectly French manicured hand for me to shake. I take it, but she grips so tight, shaking so hard I’m worried she’ll rip my arm out of the socket. Jesus, where did she learn to shake hands? The military?
‘You two used to go out, right?’ I ask, glad I know enough to ask.
Hugh’s cheeks turn pink. She looks coyly to the floor.
‘Yes,’ Hugh admits awkwardly. ‘But we’re still friends.’
He’s friends with an ex of his? An ex that is THIS good looking? And from her voice, she’s clearly posh just like him and his family. His Mother basically said she’d rather he marry someone like her. And if they’re so bloody friendly, why didn’t he just ask her to marry him?
‘So...you broke up a long time ago?’ I enquire, attempting to sound casual.
Hugh’s grip on my waist tightens.
‘Oh, completely!’ she giggles. ‘Golly, it must be at least six months ago now!’
Six months? Six fucking months? That’s no time at all!
I turn to look at Hugh in disbelief, expecting some kind of explanation.
‘All in the past now,’ he agrees hurriedly.
‘So how long have you been together then?’ she asks me with an eager grin. ‘Hugh here was a bit vague when I asked him.’
Oh, Shit. I can’t exactly tell her the truth, can I? She’ll think I’m insane. She’ll think Hugh’s insane too.
‘Not too long,’ I smile, not wanting to give anything away.
Hugh hugs me tighter, obviously pleased with my answer.
‘Really? How long exactly?’ she presses. ‘It can’t be more than five months, can it?’
‘Um...’ Hugh babbles, pouting as if trying to work out the time. ‘Bit shorter than that I think.’
‘It’s been such a whirlwind romance,’ I admit, choosing to stroke his hair back.
We all know it’s an act of dominance. If I were a dog, I’d be pissing on him right now. He’s claimed, bitch, back off.
‘You must have swept him off his feet,’ she agrees, smiling smugly. ‘When we were together the idea of marriage horrified him.’
‘Really?’
‘I wouldn’t say horrified,’ he argues, awkwardly.
‘Were you together long then?’ I ask, unable to hide my curiosity. I get the feeling I’ll find out more from her than I ever will from him.
She nods. ‘Three years.’
I nearly choke on air. Three years? He was with her three years, and he didn’t want to marry her? Now he’s known me a few days and is supposedly sure. What the hell is wrong with the guy? Does he have some kind of hidden mental health problems?
‘Anyway,’ Hugh interrupts, ‘sorry, Flic, but we must get on.’ He calls her Flic? That irks me much more than it should. ‘We’re registering.’
‘Ooh, how exciting!’ She walks over and picks up the same plate Hugh had suggested. ‘I’ve had my eye on these plates for a while. Anyway, see you soon!’
Shit. She’s made for him. She wants his plate. She wants the same things he wants. She’s from the same background. Why the hell didn’t it work out? Am I just a ploy to get her back? Show her that he’s ready to commit now?
‘Will we see her soon?’ I question, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘Are you seriously still friends with her? You can’t be that close if she doesn’t know how long we’ve been together.’
He avoids my eye line, choosing instead to look over more plates. ‘Please, we’re barely even friends. I just had to say that to be polite.’
‘So, why will we see her soon?’
‘Ugh,’ he rolls his eyes with a loud sigh. ‘Her Mum is best friends with my Mum. She’s bound to be invited to the wedding.’
‘Our wedding?’ I repeat, eyes wide. ‘Sorry, I was under the illusion that we’d be sticking with our original guest list seen as she’s no longer paying?’
‘You don’t get it though,’ he says with a grimace. ‘I couldn’t be seen to not invite them. I’ve known them all my life.’
‘Yet you still forgot to add them to the original list.’
He pulls me close to him. ‘I’m sorry. It doesn’t bother you, does it?’
I wrap my hands around his neck. ‘Your ex-girlfriend attending our wedding?’
‘She’s an ex for a reason you know,’ he smiles, pecking a kiss on my nose.
‘Why did you break up?’
‘Because she wanted to get married.’
I pull away from him. ‘And now you’re showing her that you’re up for getting married.’ This is just as I thought. He’s using me. ‘Be honest with me, Hugh, am I just a ploy to make her jealous so you can end up with her? Because you can’t play games like that with me.’
‘No! Jesus, I’d never do that. I didn’t want to marry her because she’s a high-maintenance fucking princess. You’re the complete opposite of her.’
‘And that’s enough?’
I mean, her hair was perfect. Bitch.
‘You are more than enough,’ he smiles, pecking me lightly on the lips. ‘I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life getting to know you.’
‘And what if I turn out to be a princess?’
He grins. ‘You’re already my princess.’
I snort. ‘You’re beyond cheesy. If anything, I’m a Goddamn queen.’
‘As long as you’re my queen I don’t care how demanding you get. Especially in the bedroom.’
Okay, he’s mine. I just have to make sure Felicity knows that.
Hugh’s gone off to check on a building or something. I really need to start listening when he talks about work, but the minute he’s talking about building codes I can’t help but zone out. Anyway, I’m doing wedding stuff. AGAIN. I’m actually glad we’ve condensed the stress into twenty-four days. I don’t think I could ha
ndle it spread out over a year, like a normal person.
Anyway, today I’m seeing a photographer’s wedding portfolio, and I’m bloody excited! His website is amazing, and I think if I turn on my charm we might even be able to get what we want within our budget.
I’m a bit early to meet Nadine here, but I’m too eager to see what his studio looks like inside. I open the large oak door and attempt to take in the cool, edgy surroundings.
Its walls are painted a dark blue, black and white photographs hanging from almost every spare wall. I look towards what seems like a main stage. A photographer is taking pictures of a woman and her child. Wow, that kid’s got a big honker. I hope the photographer is good with Photoshop.
‘Um...hi,’ I mumble awkwardly, ‘I’m— ‘
‘You’re late,’ he snaps at me, his gaze hard. ‘We have to be quick.’
Wow. He’s rude.
‘Sorry, what?’
But he’s already pushing me off to the side of the room. I open my mouth to speak again, but he’s pushing me behind a room divider. What the hell is going on here?
‘If you strip down, I’ll just fetch your outfit.’
‘But, I—’ It’s too late—he’s already walked away.
Well, I know about photographers being divas. Hell, I deal with them on a day-to-day basis, but this is just taking the piss. And why does he want me to get changed into an outfit? Maybe he wants to do some test shots of me in a bridal dress? I suppose that could make sense. And I do understand that some of the most brilliant minds have questionable methods. Who am I to argue?
‘Let’s hurry it up, please,’ he yells over. ‘I have another appointment in ten.’
Shit, he’s bossy.
I quickly pull my jeans and top off, throwing them over the divider.
‘I want you on set in two,’ he shouts, throwing something back over.
I take it off and look at it. What the hell is this? A black and red Basque with matching French knickers?
‘Excuse me,’ I shout over. ‘Excuse me!’
There’s no reply. I peek around it to see he’s nowhere to be seen. Shit. What the hell am I going to do? He’s taken my normal clothes. If I plan on confronting him, I’m going to have to put on this ridiculous slutty outfit.
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