by Anna Bell
‘Did you notice that most of the memories we’d chosen were from the early days when we were falling in love? I worry that once you get married, you forget to make an effort in everyday life. I know I’ve certainly been guilty of that since Sasha’s been born.’
‘I think we both have,’ says Max, nodding. ‘Although, from the last few weeks, I’ve got some new contenders for my favourite memories. Like the time in the tent at the festival.’
‘What, me peeing in the kettle?’
‘Yes, but not for that reason; for the fact that it brought us closer. There’s also the time I told you those stories – the ones I tell Sasha,’ he says, raising an eyebrow. ‘Plus, there was Paris.’
‘How could we ever forget Paris,’ I say, ‘and all that it taught us.’
‘Some more than others, hey?’ he says, causing me to laugh. ‘I promise I won’t need nudging so much in that department either. But that’s not what I meant. It’s special to me because I couldn’t sleep that first night, and you were half lying on me and the baby was doing all sorts of karate moves and I was thinking how on earth is she sleeping through this,’ he says, with a laugh, ‘but you carried on snoring through it all.’
‘Hey, I don’t snore,’ I say, gently pushing him.
‘Not like big snores, cute little snuffily ones, but the point is, I looked at you and I was happy – like happier than I’ve ever been – and that’s when it hit me how lucky I was that that night wasn’t a one-off and that it was forever. It was my life: you, Sasha, and the baby.’
A tear rolls down my cheek. I can’t believe it; even without our backstory he still felt that way.
‘And then you rolled on my arm and, man, did that hurt,’ he says.
‘Hey,’ I stutter, a little choked-up. I go to gently shove him again, but instead he reaches out and takes my trembling hand.
‘I love you more than anything in the world, Ellie.’
‘Even more than Brighton and Hove Albion?’
‘Even more so,’ he says. ‘Getting to remember them being promoted paled in significance to getting my memory back and me remembering how I fell in love with you in the first place.
‘I was lucky enough to fall in love with you not once, but twice. I would do anything for us to stay together. Counselling, therapy, whatever it takes. I want to prove to you that I’ve changed and I’m different and that it will never happen again.’
I look so deep into Max’s eyes that I can just about see through his Batman mask. I can’t believe that he didn’t take it off in the limo.
‘Do you think you can give us another go?’ he asks.
Love is a massive leap of faith. But what this month has taught me is that if you have a love like mine and Max’s then it’s worth fighting for.
‘Yes, let’s make some new memories,’ I say. ‘Lots of them.’
‘But not just the big ones,’ he says, taking a step closer. ‘Let’s enjoy the little ones too.’
‘Like the kisses.’
‘Like all the kisses,’ he says, and he steps forward and runs his hand through my hair and it rests on the back of my neck and he pulls me forward and gives me a slow, gentle kiss.
‘Perfect ten?’ he asks as he pulls away.
‘Nah, more like an eight,’ I say, biting my lip and giggling.
‘What?’
‘Well, they can’t all be tens now, can they? Plus, the whole mask thing isn’t really doing it for me.’
‘Huh, and there was me thinking that you’d be really into the whole dressing-up thing.’
‘I know. Me too. You know that isn’t the sexiest version of Batman?’ I say, tugging at the utility belt. ‘I was always partial to the Val Kilmer one in the nineties.’
‘Noted for next time.’
I’m suddenly delighted that there’s going to be a next time.
‘I wonder if we’ll have more luck getting you out of the Wonder Woman costume than we did that first night in Clapham?’
‘Yes, and I hope you don’t end up with a black eye,’ I say, thinking back to that night. At least this time we’re more even with him in his Batman costume, and I begin to blush at the thoughts I’m having about peeling it off him.
‘Do you think your mum will mind having Sasha overnight?’ I say, feeling like an awful mother. I’m sure in the long run this is in her best interest – her parents working on their marriage and all that.
‘I’ve already asked her. Good job too; it’ll be a busy night as now I’ve got to make it epic enough to make the Evan Wilson fist bump pale in comparison.’
I laugh and Max leans down and kisses me again.
‘Get a room, you two.’ Owen slaps Max on the back as he walks out on to the steps, and we pull apart. ‘I’m glad you’ve worked everything out.’
‘And you two have, as well,’ I say, smiling.
‘Yeah, well, if Max had listened to me from the start this whole thing wouldn’t have happened.’
‘But then we wouldn’t be standing here in these very fetching costumes, now would we?’ says Max, wincing because he knows he messed up.
‘Speaking of costumes,’ I say, ‘have I told you how much I like yours, Owen?’
He gives me a hard stare.
‘The things I do for friendship.’
The door opens and Polly, Helen, Gaby and Rach stream out onto the steps.
‘Cars should be here any minute,’ says Helen, who breaks out into a big grin when she sees Max and me holding hands.
‘So, are we heading back to Comic Con?’ asks Owen.
‘Yes,’ claps Rach, ‘we’re in, right?’
Gaby nods.
‘Great, Claire’s meeting us there in bit; she’s coming as Catwoman as well.’
Polly looks over at me. ‘Are you wanting to go back there too? Or…’
‘Actually, I could do with going home,’ I say, squeezing Max’s hand.
‘Me too to be honest,’ says Helen. ‘I’m knackered.’
‘OK, so we’ll all go in one car and you guys will take the other,’ says Owen.
It takes us a while to hug each other goodbye, chattering about our eventful morning, before we split into the two groups and head off in our respective cars.
‘So, am I going to carry you over the threshold this time?’ says Max, waving to the driver as he heads off down our street.
‘Er no,’ I say, looking down at my bump. ‘And I can’t be carrying you either.’
‘Hmm, but it just feels like we need to mark this occasion. Our fresh start.’
A woman walks by pushing a pram in front of our house.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, walking up. ‘Would you mind taking a photo of us? We’re just moving into our new house.’
‘Of course, congratulations,’ she says, taking the phone and then staring hard at our outfits.
‘We were at Comic Con,’ says Max.
‘Wasn’t going to say anything,’ she says, smiling. ‘Say, Cheese.’
The woman takes the photo and hands back the phone and we thank her, taking a look at it.
I laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but I love how wide our smiles are.
‘That’s one for the memory wall up the stairs,’ I say.
‘The memory wall? You’re really going to put hundreds of photo frames up those stairs and ruin walls that we’re going to get lovingly plastered and painted,’ he says with a groan.
‘Uh-huh,’ I say, turning the key.
‘Can’t you imagine how nice it would look with nothing on them, just beautiful Farrow & Ball paint.’
‘You know, we’re standing here arguing about the walls when Sasha isn’t here and this little one’s staying put. Who knows when we’ll get the house to ourselves like this again?’
‘You’re right,’ he says, moving towards me. ‘I should be concentrating on something else that would look even more beautiful with nothing on.’
‘God, you’re cheesy, Max Voss.’
‘I know, but that’s one of the
reasons you love me, right?’
‘One of the many reasons,’ I say, and this time I don’t wait to be kissed; I grab him and pull him towards me. And this time there’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that it’s a perfect ten.
Loved The Man I Didn’t Marry? Then why not try We Just Clicked, another hilarious and feel-good romantic comedy by Anna Bell. Click here to buy your copy now!
Acknowledgements
Thank you so much for reading The Man I Didn’t Marry – I really hope you enjoyed it and please do pop a review up if you have time! I absolutely love interacting with my readers so do follow me on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. It’s so nice to get all your lovely messages as it spurs me on during those tough first drafts and multiple edits. Thank you to all the lovely bookstagrammers and book reviewers who take the time to review my books too and for generally spreading all the book love.
I have used a lot of dramatic licence for this book – so any errors I made in relation to the medical knowledge, local Fleet geography (the imaginary coffee van at Fleet Pond that I wish existed) etc., are all mine.
A huge thank you goes to my long-suffering literary agent Hannah Ferguson, for reading very early drafts and being patient through my yo-yoing between giving up on this book and new ideas to make the plot click – we got there in the end! Thanks also to the rest of the team at Hardman and Swainson for all that they do.
Another huge thank you to my editor Emily Kitchin and assistant editor Melanie Hayes for their enthusiasm for this book, and for their brilliant editorial comments that, as always, the book is so much better for. Special thanks to the rest of the team at HQ – especially Katrina Smedley, Lucy Richardson, Lucy Davey, Fliss Porter, Harriet Williams, Sammy Luton, Angie Dobbs, Halema Begum and Tom Keane. Also, to copy-editor Jon Appleton.
Writing and editing in lockdown has been a particular challenge – but it has reminded me of how much I rely on my friends and family to keep me sane during the writing process. So, thank you to Mum and John, Jane, Laura, Kaf, Hannah, Jo, Sam, Sarah, Sonia, Ali, Christie, Janine and Ken, and Jon and Debs. Special mention to Isabelle Broom, Lucy Vine, Vicky Zimmerman and Katie Marsh for the much-needed daily word races and the Zooms. Also, to writer pals Lorraine Wilson, Victoria Walters and the Mirepoix Writers’ Group for all the support.
Lastly, as always, the biggest thank you has to go to my husband Steve and my children Evan and Jessica, for putting up with ‘Mummy always daydreaming about her book’. And to the dogs, Rex and Pru, for letting me also daydream on their dog walks.
Turn the page for a sneak peek at the heart-warming and laugh-out-loud romcom from Anna Bell, We Just Clicked.
Available now!
Prologue
If I’d known that the last time I’d see Ben was that unusually hot day in April, I would have made more of an effort to tell him something profound. I would have told him I loved him. Told him I was sorry for all the times I’d fought petty arguments with him. Told him how he was more a part of me than I ever imagined was possible. I certainly wouldn’t have told him that he had crappy taste in engagement rings and that his hairline was starting to recede. But I guess in some ways that was better than all the soppy stuff because if I’d known it was the last time, I’d never have let him leave that afternoon at all.
He’d taken me to a high-end jewellery shop whose windows I’d only ever drooled over from the outside. I’d never dared enter it, let alone imagined that I, Izzy Brown, would be allowed to touch one of their exquisite rings.
‘Holy shit,’ I said, my hand flying up to my mouth in embarrassment of my potty mouth. Luckily the man behind the counter was polite enough to act like he hadn’t heard. ‘Are you sure the rock’s big enough?’
I held the diamond up to the light and it practically blinded me. There was no denying it was a beautiful ring, but it was far too showy.
‘It’s not that big,’ said Ben. Beads of sweat had started to form on his forehead as the magnitude of what was happening hit him. Or maybe he’d caught sight of the price tag. ‘I just want it to be special.’
‘I think it’s too much,’ I said, shaking my head and slipping it off. ‘I think she’d prefer something more understated.’
‘Something like that?’ asked Ben, pointing to another equally ostentatious ring.
I shuddered, not because the ring was horrid but because it was exactly the type of ring that I imagined that Cameron would propose with. Not that he’d come here. He’d have flown to Antwerp and bought the perfect diamond first before flying back to have it set. That’s what the very few engaged or married traders that he knew had done and Cameron hated to deviate from the pack.
‘I think she’d prefer something like…’ I walked along to the opposite end of the display cabinet and my eyes fell upon the perfect ring, ‘like that.’
I stared at the platinum band with a bright blue sapphire flanked on either side by tiny diamonds. It was elegant and understated, but special none the less. It was exactly what he was looking for.
Ben followed my finger and examined the ring before he looked up at me and a small smile spread across his face.
‘Bloody hell, that’s the one.’
The man behind the counter pulled it out and rested it on the top and glided it over my finger. It was a little tighter than the first one, but it fit well enough. Ben shook a little as he checked the price tag but relief flooded his face when he saw he could afford it.
‘It’s an excellent choice,’ said the man. He started spieling about the cut and clarity of the diamonds and the pedigree of the sapphire, but I could tell Ben wasn’t listening. He’d found the ring and he was happy. As was I – my hand had never looked more beautiful. I fanned my fingers out and stared at it twinkling in the lights. It was entrancing.
The man behind the counter coughed and I looked up a little embarrassed.
‘I need to pop it back in the box,’ he said.
‘Of course, of course,’ I said tugging it off. ‘It’s so beautiful.’
Ben smiled as he handed over his credit card, and just like that, my brother had taken his first step to getting married. Or perhaps it was technically his second step as he’d actually got engaged a few years ago when he’d proposed with a ring from a Christmas cracker. He’d told his fiancée that he’d get her a better ring one day, and after a recent work promotion he’d finally been able to make good on the promise.
‘I can’t believe you’re going to do this,’ I said, looping my arm through his as we left the store.
‘We’ve been engaged for three years, it’s hardly a shocker.’
‘I know, but this is really it, though, isn’t it? You’ve got the proper ring and you’re going to set a proper date. This is huge. We should celebrate.’
‘I was going to head straight back to the station. I don’t really want to be walking round London with it.’
He hugged his backpack tighter to his chest. He looked like such a tourist wearing it over his front.
I pulled out my phone and read a message.
‘Cameron’s going to the Founder’s Arms, it’s just over the river from here. Why don’t we go and have a quick drink with him before I walk you back to Waterloo?’
Ben looked at his watch and I could tell he was uneasy, but I hadn’t seen him in ages. The afternoon had whizzed by and there was still so much to catch up on.
‘OK, but the drinks are on you as I don’t think I can ever afford to drink again after buying that.’
‘Ben, I hope you’re not getting into debt for the ring. It’s not like the wedding will be cheap and—’
‘Izzy, I’m kidding.’
‘Good,’ I said with relief. ‘Of course I’ll buy you a celebratory drink anyway. Plus, I can’t wait for you to meet Cameron.’
‘Oh yes, the famous Cameron. I’m intrigued to meet him too.’
It felt strange that they’d not met before, but my life in London seemed so far removed from my family and friends back home in Basingstoke
. The two might only be an hour apart by train but you’d think I was from Timbuktu judging by the reaction I’d get from Cameron when I suggested we visit. I think he expected that he’d turn to dust if he left the Greater London area, like a vampire entering a church.
I stifled a yawn as we weaved through the empty streets. During the week the same ones would be full of City workers bustling about, but at the weekend they were deserted.
‘Late night?’ asked Ben.
‘Kind of, but it’s been one of those weeks where every night’s been a late one.’
‘I don’t know how you do it; I can barely manage going out at the weekend now.’
‘That’s what happens when you’re old and settled. You get a mortgage, you get married and next you’ll be losing your hair like Dad.’
He rubbed at his hair. ‘Oi, I’m only two years older than you and I’m not receding quite yet. Plus I’m not married yet either.’
Ben’s been with his fiancée Becca for fifteen years; they met at school, and I think of them as an old married couple. It’s been a cruel wait for my mum to splash out on an over-the-top mother-of-the-groom hat and for me who wants to be their bridesmaid.
‘So does this mean you’re going to have to propose all over again?’
‘Oh God, I don’t know. Does it? That was the whole point of proposing with the cracker ring. It was supposed to be whimsical.’
‘I think that would have been fine if you’d then produced the real ring soon afterwards, but three years… I think you’ll have to do it again, and with a ring like that it deserves to be properly romantic.’
He groaned.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll help you think of something.’
By the time we crossed over the river to the pub, we’d come up with a sneaky proposal plan that was both romantic and personal. I’d shed a few happy tears and Ben was once again grateful I’d helped him out.