A Girl's Best Friend

by Lindsey Kelk

  He shook his head and shuffled closer towards me. ‘Easier than I thought,’ he said gruffly. ‘I want to be with you. Whatever that means and wherever it takes us. I want to see everything and go everywhere and I want to do it together because doing anything on my own doesn’t make sense any more.’

  ‘Right then,’ I replied, leaning in closer and closer.

  ‘How was that?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t practise but I think it was all right for off the cuff?’

  ‘You had an entire plane ride to think about what you wanted to say and you didn’t work on it at all?’ I clucked my tongue as he took a strand of hair from in front of my face and tucked it back behind my ear. ‘And you have the audacity to call yourself a writer.’

  ‘I am a disgrace,’ he said, leaning in until I could feel his breath on my face. ‘Whatever do you see in me?’

  ‘It’s mostly the sex,’ I replied. ‘Don’t read too much into it.’

  ‘Oh my GOD,’ Amy screamed, tearing through the chairs like a miniature silk-clad Incredible Hulk. Nick pulled away, a heartbeat before our lips could meet. ‘You’re getting married? You’re getting married!’

  ‘We’re not getting married,’ I said, my arms around Nick’s neck, my temple resting against his forehead. ‘Calm down.’

  ‘Why is he kneeling on the floor then?’ she asked, hands on her hips. ‘That’s just taking the piss.’

  ‘I know,’ I assured her. ‘We’ve covered that.’

  ‘What’s this?’ Al and Kekipi followed Amy, pops of glitter and confetti decorating Al’s beard and sticking to Kekipi’s slicked-down hair. ‘Who’s getting married now?’

  ‘Tess Brookes, if you’re stealing my thunder,’ Kekipi warned, ‘I will not be held accountable for my actions.’

  ‘They’re not getting married,’ Amy said, disappointment audible in her voice. ‘He’s just on one knee for shits and gigs.’

  ‘Then what is going on?’ Kekipi demanded while Al gave me a simple nod and a wink. ‘Are you two actually together or is this a cunning way of getting out of buying me two separate wedding gifts?’

  ‘It’s your day,’ I said, standing up, Nick close by my side, his hand in mine. ‘I’m just here to eat cake and embarrass myself on the dance floor.’

  ‘Me too,’ Nick promised, squeezing my hand tightly. ‘Boy Scout promise.’

  ‘You were never a Boy Scout,’ Kekipi declared, waving a warning finger in his direction. ‘You don’t fool me, Nick Miller.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we be outside with the photographer?’ Al asked, a guiding hand on Kekipi’s back. ‘And your husband?’

  ‘Yes,’ he sulked. ‘I suppose. As long as those two aren’t up to anything.’

  ‘If you mess her around again, I’ll destroy you,’ Amy said, giving Nick a quick side hug. ‘I know I said that before but this time I mean it. I’ll literally tear your balls off.’

  ‘I believe you,’ he replied. ‘And I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she warned. ‘Do better.’

  ‘What do we do now?’ Nick asked, slipping off his jacket and draping it around my bare shoulders as they left us alone in front of the altar. ‘What’s next?’

  ‘Let’s start with this,’ I replied, throwing my arms around his neck and leaning into a kiss. I closed my eyes and felt him all around me, more certain in that moment than I ever had been before. I knew who I was, I knew what I wanted and I knew where I was going. The rest, we could work out along the way.

  ‘As the rest,’ I said, pulling away to see him smiling at me. ‘I’m not sure. But I’m excited to find out.’

  The sun was beginning to set as everyone assembled for the photographer, laughing and smiling and kissing as the night turned cool and the shadows grew long. I wasn’t sure if Nick meant what was next with the wedding or with us, but as far as I could tell, it really didn’t matter.

  Epilogue

  ‘Amy, I can barely hear you, you’re breaking up,’ I said, trying to balance two brown paper bags full of groceries in my arms and open the door to my apartment at the same time. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Milan but I’m in the car,’ she replied. ‘Get out the bloody road, you knobjockey!’

  ‘Tell me you’re not driving.’ I slammed the door shut behind me, my heart in my mouth as I heard a car horn honk down the line and sirens wailing in the background.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said with a sigh. ‘As if they’d let me drive. GET OUT OF THE ROAD. I’m meeting Edward Warren to go over spring–summer. Next spring–summer. I’m knackered. Anyway, how’s you?’

  ‘Good,’ I replied, dropping my shopping on the counter and immediately positioning myself in front of the air conditioner, putting Amy on speakerphone and holding up my arms. ‘It’s so hot, I think I’m going to die.’

  ‘That’s how you know you’re not in England anymore,’ she said, laughing. ‘Milan is hot as balls as well.’

  ‘It’s so humid,’ I told her, turning in a circle and waiting for the frigid air to cool me down. Even though my studio apartment was tiny, it was impossible to keep more than ten square feet of it bearable and it was still only June. I didn’t know if I was going to survive July and August. ‘But I seem to remember Al’s palazzo is fairly well air conditioned.’

  ‘When I settle in one spot, I’ll get my own place,’ she replied, acknowledging the slightly accusatory tone in my voice. ‘You could have moved in with Delia, she offered.’

  ‘I know,’ I admitted, dropping down onto one of the little wooden chairs by my kitchen table-slash-work-space. ‘But it didn’t feel right, I don’t even know her. And I’m coming and going at all hours.’

  ‘And you’re scared of Genevieve,’ Amy added.

  ‘And I’m scared of Genevieve,’ I agreed. ‘This place isn’t so bad. Apart from the heat. And how the hot water is really, really hot. And how you can smell the rubbish in the street when they don’t pick it up until the evening. And I thought I saw a mouse the other day but I’m sure it was just a cockroach.’

  ‘Oh, that’s much better,’ Amy said. ‘Just a mouse-sized cockroach.’

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I told her, opening my laptop and rubbing smeared mascara away from underneath my eye. Make-up was utterly pointless in this weather but I didn’t want David to think I’d stopped trying already. Things were going well at work: my month-long apprenticeship at the David Sanders Gallery had turned into a three-month trial run, which had become a six-month assistant job with two different photographers. ‘I’ve got some pictures to edit tonight and we’re breaking down the exhibition at the gallery tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I bet you’re totally diesel now,’ she said, over the sound of more honking horns. ‘Have you got guns? Are you super buff?’

  ‘Ripped,’ I said, flexing my puny arms. ‘Remind me, when are you back in New York?’

  ‘Two weeks,’ she replied happily. ‘Prepare thy liver.’

  ‘I will,’ I promised. ‘Have fun in Milan. And don’t kill anyone.’

  ‘I’ll try to try,’ she said. ‘Love you.’

  Hanging up the phone, I turned on the tap until the water ran almost cold and filled up my glass before settling down in front of my computer. When I wasn’t slogging my guts out at the gallery or trailing around New York setting up studios and, as Agent Veronica had predicted, making an awful lot of coffee, I was starting to pick up my own jobs. I’d done more work for Gloss, a couple of shoots for Booker and even a few bits and pieces for Belle. I was busier than I’d ever been. I hadn’t left the apartment for anything other than work in days but I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt so content.

  ‘Let’s get this done and then you can order Chinese,’ I bargained with myself, rubbing my eyes as my laptop flickered into life. ‘It’s just a few shots. It won’t take long.’

  ‘What won’t take long?’

  I span around in my chair to see the front door open and felt all the cool air rush out as Nick walked in.

  ‘What are
you doing here?’ I asked, jumping to my feet and crossing the tiny apartment in three strides. ‘I thought you were in London until the weekend?’

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything there that I couldn’t do here,’ he replied, carry-on suitcase at his heels as he hoisted me up off the floor and planted his lips on mine. ‘And I missed you.’

  ‘I missed you too,’ I said, peeling myself away from him, sticky skin against sticky skin. He’d been away for eight days and they were eight days too many. ‘You should have called, I would have made dinner or something?’

  ‘This isn’t dinner?’ he asked, rooting through my brown paper bags. ‘Pringles, Twizzlers, Diet Coke. You’ve got all the major food groups covered.’

  ‘You know I like to get my five a day.’ I fished around in the bottom to produce a banana. ‘Ta-da.’

  ‘You work too hard and you don’t look after yourself,’ Nick said, wiping a smudge of mascara I’d missed from my cheek. ‘Am I going to have to start making you a packed lunch every day?’

  ‘I wouldn’t hate that,’ I admitted, catching his hand in mine. ‘It’s been a busy day, I haven’t been eating this all the time, honest.’

  It was true. I’d been eating Chinese takeaways, pizza, sushi, Thai food and everything else I could get my hands on. It was a good job I was working as hard as I was, otherwise I would have been the size of a house.

  ‘I wish you’d stop being so stubborn and move into my place,’ Nick said, frowning as he looked around my dark little studio. ‘How do you sleep in this heat?’

  ‘You want to go to sleep?’ I ran my hand playfully down the front of his shirt, toying with his buttons. ‘Is the jetlag that bad?’

  ‘Jetlag could never be that bad,’ he replied, kissing me again. ‘Plus, I’m starving.’

  ‘I really do have to finish off this edit.’ I pulled away and planted myself in my wooden chair. ‘It won’t take me more than an hour.’

  Nick looked down at me, tired and proud and hungry and a million other emotions written on his face.

  ‘All right but I’m taking these,’ he said, snatching up the tube of Pringles and hurling himself onto the Ikea bed that butted up next to the table. It really was a small apartment. ‘And if you’re not done in an hour, I’ll be taking myself out to dinner.’

  ‘I promise,’ I said, downing my glass of water and grinning at my laptop. ‘Where do you want to go? I could do Italian or we could try that new Mexican place round the corner?’

  I tapped and clicked at my computer, checking the time on the clock next to the window. The sun was already beginning to set and thankfully, the air outside was cooling off, even if the apartment was still stuffy and close.

  ‘Nick?’ I turned towards the bed, expecting to see his cheeks filled with Pringles and a guilty look in his eyes. Instead, I saw the man I loved, stretched out on top of the covers, still wearing his button-down shirt and travel-rumpled jeans, fast asleep.

  Smiling, I stepped away from the computer and picked up my camera, snapping a picture of his peaceful face.

  ‘Stop it,’ he said as I sat down on the bed beside him. ‘I’m just resting my eyes.’

  ‘Go to sleep,’ I said, kissing the top of his head the way he always kissed mine. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

  ‘I need your freezing feet to cool me down before I can go to sleep,’ he muttered, smiling even though his eyes were closed. ‘I missed you, Tess.’

  ‘I missed you too,’ I said, brushing the hair back off his face. ‘Now let me finish off these photos.’

  ‘My very own Annie Leibovitz,’ he whispered into a yawn. ‘I can’t wait until you’re incredibly successful and I can retire a kept man.’

  ‘One day,’ I promised, settling back down in front of the computer as Nick rolled over onto his side, reaching out to rest his hand on my leg. ‘One day.’

  Discover the first two books in Lindsey’s Girl series …

  ‘Fans of the I Heart series will instantly fall for this gorgeously funny and romantic read’ Closer

  Click here to buy ABOUT A GIRL now

  Click here to buy WHAT A GIRL WANTS now

  Catch up on Lindsey’s I HEART series!

  Click here to buy I Heart New York

  Click here to buy I Heart Hollywood

  Click here to buy I Heart Paris

  Click here to buy I Heart Vegas

  Click here to buy I Heart London

  Click here to buy I Heart Christmas

  If you love Lindsey’s books, why not try one of her standalones

  Everyone loves a bridesmaid – except Maddie, who’s perpetually asked to be one.

  Everyone loves a wedding – except Maddie’s best friend, who’s getting divorced.

  And everyone loves the way Maddie’s so happy behind the scenes – except Maddie herself.

  One best friend is in wedding countdown while the other heads for marriage meltdown. And as Maddie juggles her best chance at promotion in years with bridezilla texts and late-night counselling sessions, she starts to wonder – is it time to stop being the bridesmaid?

  Click here to buy now

  Acknowledgements

  I feel like everyone in this list is getting really bored of seeing their names on these pages but that’s just tough luck. If you will insist on sticking around, you’re going to have to be thanked.

  Rowan Lawton, thank you for all that you do. I mean, the agenting obvs but really all the rest of it as well. Lynne Drew and Martha Ashby, I literally couldn’t do it without you, which you quite clearly already know, thank you so much.

  To everyone else at HC, we’d be here all day and I know you’re already sick of me so I’ll just send cupcakes later, OK? Special thanks to Sarah Benton, Liz Dawson and Louise Swannell for dealing with me this summer, champions the lot of you. Massive thank yous to Blaise McGowan and Georgie White at James Grant and Liane-Louise Smith and Isha Karki at Furniss Lawton, thank you for being so on top of things when I quite clearly am not.

  We’re reminded daily that the internet is a wonderful and terrible place and I really want to add a special thank you to the people who genuinely make the interwebs, and therefore the world, a better place. Talking to you all on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram reminds me I’m not alone, even when I’m feeling a little lost, and I appreciate your comments and photos and messages more than you could ever know.

  It’s been a funny old year and without these people, God knows where I’d be right now. So thank you Della Bolat, Ryan Child, Kevin Dickson, Philippa Drewer, Ilana Fox, Bren Lee Gomez, Mhairi McFarlane, Rosie Walsh, Terri White, Rachael Wright and Beth Ziemacki. Robert Kelk gets a special thank you for being the best damn brother that ever there was and there’s a huge hefty thank you for Jeff Israel. Thank you for looking after me, feeding my kittens when I go away and taking me to San Diego to see Taylor Swift. If that’s not the sign of a keeper, I don’t know what is.

  About the Author

  Lindsey Kelk is an author, journalist and prolific tweeter. Born and brought up in the UK, she worked as a children’s editor before moving to New York and becoming a full-time writer. She now lives in LA.

  Lindsey has written eleven novels: I Heart New York, I Heart Hollywood, I Heart Paris, I Heart Vegas, I Heart London, I Heart Christmas, The Single Girl’s To-Do List, Always the Bridesmaid, About a Girl, What a Girl Wants and A Girl’s Best Friend. You can find out lots more about her here: http://lindseykelk.com

  Follow Lindsey on Twitter @lindseykelk

  Also by Lindsey Kelk

  I Heart series

  I Heart New York

  I Heart Hollywood

  I Heart Paris

  I Heart Vegas

  I Heart London

  I Heart Christmas

  Girl series

  About a Girl

  What a Girl Wants

  Standalones

  The Single Girl’s To-Do List

  Always the Bridesmaid

  Ebook-only short stories

&n
bsp; Jenny Lopez Has a Bad Week

  Jenny Lopez Saves Christmas

  About the Publisher

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