Marrying Mr Valentine

by Laura Barnard

  He turns towards me, dragging his hand through his hair. ‘Trust me, I know that. That’s half of the appeal.’

  I frown back at him. ‘What, because I’m some feeble woman who’s easy to manipulate?’ I cross my arms over my chest. What an arsehole.

  HIs eyes widen. ‘No! Of course not. It’s just that you’re so different to Clara. You’re not the type of girl to attempt breaking up a couple.’

  Hearing her name out loud feels like I’ve taken a bullet. That’s obviously why he thinks he fancies me. He’s scared of getting married and he’s deliberately looking for someone the exact opposite of Clara. You couldn’t get more opposite than me.

  ‘Look, I get it,’ I say with a nod, avoiding his penetrating gaze. ‘You’re having cold feet and you’re looking for an excuse to get out of it. But I’m not it.’

  He takes a deep breath, as if to try to shake himself out of it. ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘Look, whatever it is, let’s just try to forget it happened, okay?’

  He looks at me intently, so intently I fear I’ll set on fire. ‘Fine.’

  I swallow down the lump in my throat, desperate not to burst into tears right here.

  ‘Okay, come on.’

  He furrows his brows. ‘Come on where?’

  ‘My house,’ I answer, turning to walk back towards the car.

  ‘You still want me around?’ he asks, slowly following me.

  I nod. ‘As long as you promise not to jump me,’ I say with a giggle. ‘I promised to look after you and I don’t break a promise.

  He smiles, glad I’ve lightened the mood. ‘Okay. I promise.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  The ride back home is a little awkward to say the least. Every time I think of his lips on mine I almost crash the car.

  ‘So how long have you lived back at your parents?’ he asks, clearly in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere.

  ‘About three years now.’ I sound like such a loser.

  ‘What made you move back? London rent prices?’

  If only he knew the truth. That would really scare the crap out of him.

  I nod instead. ‘Something like that.’ I pull into my street and parallel park like a pro.

  ‘Wow, woman, you can park.’ he says, in shocked admiration.

  ‘Excuse me?’ I ask in amusement. Did he think I wouldn’t be able to just because I’m a woman?

  ‘I’m used to women who can’t drive, but you just swung in that spot like it was no big deal.’

  I smile at the compliment. ‘I’ve lived here my whole life. I’m just used to it. Come on.’

  He follows me towards the small terrace house we live in. It’s not much, but its home. Florence’s mum still lives next door with her partner Joan.

  ‘Mum!’ I call as soon as I open the door, the heat welcoming me back. I can already feel myself thawing.

  ‘In here, love,’ she shouts back from the kitchen.

  I follow the voice. ‘Don’t freak out, but I brought someone back.’

  She turns around from the oven, her face wrinkled in horror. You see my mum likes to be prepared for guests. Have her hair done and lipstick on. Right now, she’s in her pyjamas with her hair in a pineapple on top of her head.

  ‘Tell me you’re joking,’ she shrieks.

  Hartley walks slowly into the kitchen. ‘I’m afraid she isn’t,’ he says, with an awkward wave.

  ‘Oh, what on earth's happened to your head?’ she asks, rushing over for a closer inspection. Mum likes to think she’s a proper nurse occasionally, not just a dental one. Since she took that first aid course she acts like she has a PhD.

  ‘Our float crashed,’ he explains with an eye roll. ‘Bit of a drama, but I’m fine.’

  She turns back to me, her eyes creased in confusion.

  ‘He was on a school float,’ I explain. ‘For a parade. He’s a teacher.’

  ‘Oh,’ she says, a wide smile on her face as she takes in the rest of Hartley’s handsome features. Obviously assessing him as husband material for me. She has no idea he’s someone else’s.

  Then I remember I haven’t even introduced him properly.

  ‘Sorry, Mum, this is Hartley.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you, Hartley,’ she says with a broad smile, before engulfing him in a hug. My family are huggers. Normal people are sometimes taken aback by all of the affection.

  ‘Lovely to meet you too,’ he says with a friendly smile. ‘Your daughter was kind enough to offer to look after me overnight, make sure I don’t pass out from concussion. But I’d totally understand if you’d prefer I go home.’

  ‘I won’t hear of it!’ she insists, slapping him away. ‘I’ve just put an apple pie in the oven so it's perfect timing. Have you had any dinner?’

  He shrugs. ‘I had a sandwich earlier, so I’m fine, thanks.’

  She scoffs, as if the idea of a sandwich is ridiculous for such a big strapping man like him.

  ‘Well then you must be starving! Let me make you both some beans on toast.’

  He continues to charm the pants off my mum all evening. I can see her getting excited and giving me the occasional look which I can read means ‘he’s a keeper!’ The poor thing thinks I’ve brought a man home for her to check out. She has no idea. But hey, while she’s thinking that at least I can try to forget how inappropriate all of this is.

  We watch TV with just a lamp on in the corner. I can feel myself dropping off, the drama of today mixed with my full belly exhausting me. Without overthinking it I grab a cushion, place it in his lap and lie my head down onto it. He doesn’t seem to react, so I let the warmth of his body wrap around me like a blanket.

  When I open my eyes, I find I’m still in the same place I fell asleep, snuggled on Hartley’s lap. I can feel the warmth of his arm over my back. The lights are all out apart from the glow of the TV, some random all-night bingo programme on.

  I sit up to see Hartley’s head thrown back; he's snoring his head off. It makes me giggle. I cover my mouth with my hand so as not to wake him, but it’s too late. He stirs, one eye opening first, then the other.

  He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me. He’s such a sexy fucker, those eyes shining down at me in the barely lit room. The darkness makes me feel bold. Call it my dream-like state or the fact that I’m already so close to him, but I find myself lifting my bottom and swinging my leg over to straddle him. He watches me, his eyes predatory, his mouth popping open slightly. His breath is coming out in heavy pants.

  I want him so much I ache all the way from my lips that want to connect with his again, to my knickers which are soaking wet with need. But I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. He’s taken. Why have I always got such terrible taste in men?

  He cups my face in both his hands and pulls me to him slowly, watching me intently the whole time. As if waiting for me to back out, to say no. Which I should really do. But I don’t, the magnetic force between us too strong and my resolve too weak.

  Instead I lean in and let my lips connect with his. I kiss him slowly and deeply, pouring all my unsaid emotions into it. I let him know in our kiss how long I’ve wanted to do this, how much I’ve held myself back, even the guilt I’m already feeling.

  I attempt to memorise the feel of his lips on mine, savour the taste of his tongue and the sensations he’s causing as one hand tangles into my hair. God, don’t touch my hair. Game over. This bitch has been conquered.

  We lose ourselves in the kiss, tangling our bodies against each other, the warmth of his body melting my last shred of resistance.

  He stops suddenly, pulling back to grin at me, his eyes fuelled with lust. His hands find my hips, moving me to one side, as if I weigh the same as a feather. Wait, is he moving me to stop? My stomach flips at the rejection, my heart straining against my chest, as if it wants to jump out and personally urge me to carry on kissing him.

  He stands but surprises me when he takes my hand. I stand up and let him lead me upstairs. Oh my God. We’re re
ally going to do this.

  This is wrong. So wrong.

  I ignore that niggling voice in my head and decide to do something completely selfish for once. Just to listen to my body and let it decide. I can deal with the consequences tomorrow.

  I’m careful to creep slowly on the floorboards. The last thing I want is to wake up Mum, or myself, from this dream where I get to live in the moment and only care about myself.

  When we get to the top of the stairs the bathroom door opens and out walks Dad. Shit, I had no idea he’d even got back from work. I freeze, my mouth hanging open, completely caught red-handed.

  ‘Nadine,’ he gasps, looking down at our interlinked fingers.

  ‘Dad.’

  ‘Mr Valentine,’ Dad says to Hartley. Wait, he knows him?

  ‘Hi,’ Hartley says, immediately dropping my hand like it’s on fire.

  ‘How do you two know each other?’ I ask, desperate to know. It’s still dimly lit up here, only the moonlight shining through the hallway window, but it’s enough to see that the colour from Hartley’s face has drained away.

  ‘Mr Blumenkrantz brought him round to meet us the other day.’

  Dad knows Clara’s dad?

  ‘How do you know Mr Blumenkrantz?’

  He rolls his eyes, his jaw tight with barely concealed outrage. ‘Nadine, he owns the company. I’m sure I’ve mentioned that before.’

  I shake my head. I really need to start listening to him when he rambles on.

  Dad looks pointedly at Hartley, assessing him up and down. ‘How’s your fiancée, Mr Valentine?’

  Well, fuck. I was at least hoping he wouldn’t know that tiny bit of information. Give me something to cling onto.

  Hartley discreetly moves further away from me. ‘Yeah, she’s good, thanks.’ He turns to me, swallowing hard, the fear of God in his eyes. ‘Thanks for offering to keep an eye on me, but I’m pretty sure I’d have shown signs of concussion by now. I should go.’

  He turns and bolts down the stairs and out of the door.

  Dad looks back at me, eyes raised as if waiting for an explanation. He doesn’t need to say anything. I feel awful enough. He turns and walks into his bedroom leaving me feeling like the other slutty woman that I am.

  Why is it the one man who seems to have the key to unlock my heart already belongs to another?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sunday 28th January

  I still can’t believe I was so close to sleeping with him. A soon to be married man. What is it about this dude? The minute I get around him I start acting like a wanton whore. He must have some kind of pheromones that make women crazy. I’m sure I’m not alone. Surely every woman that meets him falls at his feet?

  Anyway, luckily today I have Sunday lunch with Mia, Kelly and Florence, to take my mind off it. Dad couldn’t even look at me over breakfast this morning. I really hope he didn’t tell Mum Hartley’s engaged. I can’t take more judgement. Well warranted, but still.

  I’ve just walked in and sat down in the cosy pub with its open fire when Mia and Kelly start leaning across the table and whispering to me.

  ‘Quick, before Florence gets here,’ Mia says in a rush. ‘We need to organise a date for her baby shower.’

  ‘It’s a bit bloody soon to be organising that isn’t it?’ I ask, unable to hide my astonishment. She’s only ten bloody weeks.

  Kelly and Mia exchange a glance. What the hell was that?

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Kelly says reasonably with a little shrug. ‘With the way our diaries are, it's best to get something pencilled in.’

  ‘I suppose,’ I shrug, not agreeing but deciding to go along with it to appease them.

  I’m not sure Florence would like this idea. She’s already worried she’s going to copy Felicity’s fate and miscarry before the twelve-week mark. If she found out they were steaming ahead with this I know she’d be mad.

  ‘But aren’t they a bit American and like tempting fate?’ I voice, not being able to help myself. ‘I mean, it’s still early days.’

  Mia looks at me with pity in her eyes. A look I’ve come to know so well.

  ‘Babe, bad things can happen regardless of a shower.’

  I snort aggressively. ‘Trust me, if anyone knows, it's me.’

  ‘We know,’ Kelly says, a hand on my arm. ‘We know this is going to be really tough for you, which is why we’re offering to take this completely off your hands and organise everything.’

  Ugh. The last thing I want is some stupid sympathy.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ I snap. ‘My best friend is having a baby. I told you the other day I’m happy for her. Don’t make out I’m not.’

  ‘We’re not!’ Mia shouts defensively, hands up as if to surrender.

  Gah, where is the waiter? I’d be feeling better about this whole thing if I had some garlic bread right now.

  ‘What have I missed?’ Florence asks as she walks towards us. She’s looking a lot healthier than the last time I saw her. More of a colour in her cheeks that isn’t green.

  I stand up to hug her. ‘Nothing. You’re looking well.’

  ‘I’ve finally stopped puking you mean,’ she says on a smile.

  How could they think I’d have any bad feelings towards her? Having a baby is a bloody miracle and yes, I’m scared for her, but in a loving way. I don’t begrudge her this. Her and Hugh are such a gorgeous couple. I can’t wait to hold their little bundle of joy.

  We settle into our usual chatter, catching up on some meaningless gossip from our jobs. I’m desperate to tell them about Hartley, unload some of it, but I know they’d judge me and I’d rather not see that in their eyes.

  ‘Troy said the funniest thing the other day,’ Mia says, giggling hysterically.

  We all look at each other knowingly, then back at her.

  ‘What?’ she asks, barely able to conceal a smile.

  ‘You’ve got it bad,’ I laugh. She’s never been this goofy over a guy.

  ‘Shut up,’ she snaps, still with that goofy grin on her face.

  Those two have been pussyfooting around each other for over a year now. It’s ridiculous. I mean, look at me. I meet a soon to be married man and within weeks I’ve almost bedded him. You can’t say I’m not efficient.

  ‘Anyway, any news from you?’ Mia asks me, obviously desperate to change the subject.

  I’ve considered telling them since I woke up this morning, but I just can’t. Yes, a problem shared is a problem halved, but this affects Florence too. If Hugh finds out, he’s going to go spare. He could potentially lose everything: his business, his house and his family. All because I can’t keep it in my knickers.

  ‘Nothing really. Just working lots.’

  I despise lying, but it’s for the best. If I tell them, they’ll only try to talk me out of it, which is what I’ve been doing myself.

  ‘Seen much of Mr Valentine?’ Florence asks with a cheeky wink.

  I glare back at her. Dammit, Flo, why did she have to bring that up?

  ‘Ooh,’ Kelly coos leaning in, ‘who on earth is Mr Valentine?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Mia nods with a devilish grin. ‘And are you fucking?’

  ‘No!’ I shriek, far too quickly in hindsight. ‘Jesus, I’m organising his wedding. Flo’s talking crap.’

  They all stare back at me, with raised eyebrows, clearly unconvinced.

  ‘Is that why you’ve gone bright red?’ Florence teases, elbowing me in my ribs. I roll my eyes. She can be so juvenile sometimes.

  Just then my phone pings with a text. I open up the unknown number and read it.

  I need to see you. Meet me please? Hartley x

  My stomach does a nervous flip. How did he get my number? He wants to meet me? What the hell could he want to say? He must be embarrassed about last night and want to apologise. Make sure I’m not going to run back to his fiancée and tell her. Not ask me to run away with him. No, obviously, that would be crazy.

  ‘Everything alright?’ Flo asks me, attempting t
o not so discreetly read my phone over my shoulder.

  I quickly put it away. ‘Fine, but I’ve actually got to go.’

  ‘Now?’ Kelly says in shock. ‘We haven’t even ordered bloody starters yet.’

  I nod furiously, trying to look confident. ‘I forgot I was meeting a wedding couple today.’

  ‘On a Sunday? Jesus, you work too much,’ Mia says with a sigh.

  ‘I agree,’ Flo nods, chewing on her lip, her eyes suspicious. ‘I’m gonna have to speak to Hugh about you getting some help.’

  Crap. That’s the last thing I need. Hugh looking into what I’m doing.

  ‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ I insist. ‘I enjoy it. You know how I like to keep busy.’

  Kelly gives me a sympathetic smile. It makes me suddenly want to cry. It’s one thing being sad at this time of year. It’s another being reminded of it and getting the pity look from your besties.

  I wave my goodbyes and get out of there sharpish, before the pinching at my throat turns into tears, my mascara runs, and I look like I belong in a Kiss video.

  He’s asked me to come around his, so we can talk properly. I would’ve made him come around mine, but Mum has today off so I can hardly invite him there. Plus, I don’t want to talk about this anywhere in public. The thought of someone overhearing has me feeling sick to my stomach with dread.

  So instead I’m checking the number of his flat in his text and taking a deep breath before knocking on the door, having been let in by a neighbour. Brace yourself Nadine. This is going to be embarrassing. Having someone tell you they regret coming onto you. Never an enjoyable experience. At least I know by the time I’m leaving today it’ll all be over. I can go back to my normal shitty little life.

  He answers the door wearing soft faded jeans and a navy-blue t-shirt that clings to every curve of muscle. Fuck, he’s not going to make it easy for me. I avoid his gaze, instead swinging my eye-line to the floor. And he’s barefoot. Why is that sexy? I’ve never been into feet before but damn his are huge and manly.

  ‘Hi,’ he says on a swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down erratically.