‘Georgie, come on, you know you can talk to me, what’s up? Did Fliss or your auntie say anything?’
‘No – not this time.’
‘Really? Not even about the fact you’re trying on a wedding dress for your cousin’s wedding?’ he laughs.
‘I wasn’t trying it on for hers, I was trying it on for mine,’ I tell him, dropping my head into my hands.
‘Oh,’ Jack replies softly.
For a moment he doesn’t say anything, just wraps one of his big, strong arms around me and squeezes me tightly.
After sitting quietly for a few seconds he lets go, taking my face lightly in his hand so I’m looking him in the eye.
‘This is so embarrassing,’ I admit. ‘I haven’t tried on any wedding dresses since I got engaged, and Fliss and my auntie were asking about it, and I thought it would seem odd if I didn’t act like I was interested, so I said I’d try one on. All the wedding stuff has been tough, but seeing myself in a dress is just too much – especially this one, which it turns out is my dream dress.’
‘You do look incredible in it, seriously. Kind of took my breath away when I saw you – although, obviously, when I noticed you were crying my priorities shifted. Any man would be lucky to see you walking down the aisle in that dress.’
‘I’m not getting married,’ I point out. ‘Worse still, I got married, drunk, in Vegas, in a red dress. Red, the colour of whores and murder.’
Jack laughs.
‘Georgie, I know you think you’ve blown your chance to get married, but that’s crazy. Maybe you think so because you’ve lost John, but he didn’t deserve you. And you seem to think our wedding was your one wedding. Lots of people have more than one wedding these days…’
‘Little girls don’t grow up planning their different weddings in their head, they plan one. One dream wedding.’
Jack strokes my cheek softly.
‘Once our wedding is annulled, it’s cancelled out – it didn’t happen,’ he tells me.
I raise my eyebrows. Quite the insight coming from the man who didn’t know an annulment was a thing before he met me.
‘I Googled it,’ he admits.
‘I just need to get a grip,’ I say, pulling myself to my feet. ‘And I need to get this dress off.’
‘You don’t need to get a grip, you just need time to process everything that’s happened. Time heals,’ he reminds me. ‘You do need to get that dress off, though. I’m petrified you’re going to get tears and make-up on it, and they’re going to make us pay for it.’
‘Shit, yeah. And I can’t afford it. Most of my money is going to you.’
Jack gives me a sort of guilty smile. I wasn’t trying to make him feel bad – a deal is a deal.
‘I’m scared,’ I admit. ‘I’m scared. I’m scared to admit I’m scared. I’m scared because I’m so scared. What’s going to happen to me?’
I can see a real sadness in Jack’s eyes. He must feel sorry for me, this weak little girl who is a third of the way through her life (if she’s lucky) and has somehow managed to find herself with no job, no fiancé, no home and no prospects. I’d probably pity me, too.
‘I know things feel hopeless,’ he tells me. ‘But it’ll get better. I lost my mum when I was really young, and with every day that goes by, I’m petrified I’ll forget her. I only remember random things like the smell of her perfume and the way her mac and cheese tasted, but the longer I go without smelling that smell or tasting her cooking, it gets more and more likely I’ll forget. Then, when my dad died…’
I feel my face fall. Jack notices immediately.
‘Sorry, I’m not trying to depress you. All I meant was that I lost both my parents, I didn’t have any siblings or grandparents – just a great aunt in England somewhere who didn’t even know me. I was alone, and Vegas is an awful place to be when you’re lonely. But things got easier, time went by, and look at me now – a married man.’
I wipe my eyes as I laugh.
‘There she is,’ Jack smiles. ‘Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes.’
Just as Jack begins unzipping me, Annie walks back in.
‘Erm, hello,’ she says angrily, as though she’s interrupting something.
‘Yeah, you should probably do this,’ Jack says with a awkward laugh. ‘Hard to keep my hands off her.’
As Annie helps me remove the dress I can’t help but notice she’s skirting around me, scared I might start weeping again.
‘Don’t worry, I’m done crying,’ I assure her.
Suddenly, things just don’t seem so bad.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tonight we’re at Dougie’s parents’ house, or ‘The Manor’ as it’s more commonly known among the family. Lord knows why – it’s a relatively newly built, redbrick monstrosity. It doesn’t look at all like a manor; it looks like someone won the lottery and went wild with an architect.
It is a cool place though. It’s just… too much. It’s just Dougie’s parents living here now – good old Darren and Linda. Linda very much lives up to her lady of the manor role whereas Darren, he’s reached that level of rich where generosity dies and tightness kicks in. My mum was saying he won’t go out for dinner any more. Instead he just ‘stays at home and counts his money’, apparently.
If I had a house like this, I’d probably stay at home all the time, too. From the luxury cinema to the large, overstocked kitchen, to the pool in the back garden – it’s a hell of a place to ‘stay in’.
Dougie is giving me and Jack the grand tour while we wait for the last few people to arrive. He’s just taken us through the garage, where his dad’s ‘‘Rari’ and ‘the Aston’ his mum drives live. He tells us about how they’re looking into getting a new Range Rover, as this one is over a year old now and there’s a new one coming out – God forbid they should have to live with last year’s Range Rover.
‘This is the study,’ Dougie says casually. ‘Have a look if you want.’
The fact he doesn’t care about this room can only mean there’s nothing in there that cost over £5,000. Still, I poke my head through the door. Spending so much time alone in the flat, my only two real hobbies are binge-watching TV shows and reading. I’d love to have a study full of books, with a big, corner desk for doing work (says the girl without a job) and a nice, big day bed for reading.
I step inside The Manor’s study, but it’s not really a study at all. Sure, there are walls and walls of books, but it’s that wallpaper designed to look like library shelves. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan, but pictures of books do not make a study. There isn’t a desk either, just a pool table.
‘Very nice,’ I fib.
Dougie leads us back to the lounge, where everyone else is sitting, drinking cocktails, chatting and having a generally lovely time. I have to say, his heart was not in this tour at all – probably because he hates Jack. Still, his mummy told him to do it, so he did.
We’re only back for a few seconds when the rest of the Parker family arrive.
My dad is the first person through the door. The second he sees Jack he grabs him and holds him in some kind of headlock.
‘Now then,’ he says, ruffling Jack’s hair.
‘Hey, Paul,’ Jack laughs.
Oh my God, my dad is in love. It’s funny, to see my little dad with my hulking husband in a headlock. It’s so good of Jack to play along – not just with being the perfect soon-to-be son-in-law, but with everything. The more I think about it, the more I can’t get over how wonderful he is. The more time goes by, the more I realise that Jack isn’t pretending to be a great guy to impress everyone, he just is a great guy. He’d be quite the catch if he could actually be caught. It’s weird how sad it makes me feel when I find out a person has commitment issues, because to love someone and have them love you back is just the most incredible feeling – why wouldn’t you want that? I’m not saying we all have to take the same route in life where you find a partner and have some kids before retiring to an old folks’ home to
die, tucked up in your bed. You don’t have to get married or have kids, and you certainly don’t have to slow down, if you’re a thrill-seeking ninety-year-old who would rather be living it up in Benidorm than chilling in a retirement home in a quiet beach town. But my point is, no matter what you do with your life, why would you not want to be loved while you’re doing it? Maybe I’m mushy, and maybe I’m too scared to be alone, but what’s so wrong with wanting to be loved? Plus, with Jack having no real family left, you’d think he’d want to find love more than anyone.
‘So, dad loves Jack more than he loves me and Jake,’ Olly tells me.
‘Jacob,’ my little brother corrects him, without looking up from whatever game he’s playing on his phone. ‘You know I don’t like being called Jake.’
‘Why?’ Olly asks. ‘Because nicknames are fun and you hate fun?’
Our younger brother gives us both a filthy look.
‘Hey, I didn’t say anything,’ I insist. ‘I guess because we rarely use our full names…’
I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath. Jacob has always been so serious, I don’t think we’re going to change him now.
‘Jake is a much cooler name for a kid,’ Olly reasons, but Jacob still looks unimpressed.
‘Jacob is biblical, I like it,’ he tells us, causing Olly to exhale deeply as he runs his hands through his own hair.
‘He’s a lost cause,’ Olly says.
‘I’m going to say hello to Becka,’ Jacob says, wandering off.
‘A girl, oh my God,’ Olly says with a loud theatrical gasp. Jacob, conscious of how loud he is being, goes bright red.
We’re interrupted by our mother, who plants a kiss on my cheek before telling us off.
‘You two, leave your brother alone,’ she insists, before turning back to me. ‘Hello, Georgie, I hear you tried a few wedding dresses on today. Find anything you liked?’
‘Not really,’ I lie. ‘I’ll just look for one when I get back home.’
‘Oh, OK. Well, if you want to go look at any with your mum, you know where I am.’
‘Or, if you want to call the whole thing off…’ Olly starts.
‘Why would I do that?’ I ask.
Olly shrugs his shoulders casually, flashing me his usual, cheeky smile.
‘Anyway, who’s Becka?’
‘Becka?’ my mum echoes. ‘Lovely girl. Dougie’s cousin, she’s back from uni and staying here until her parents fly in.’
‘I think Jacob might have a crush on her,’ I say, staring over as I watch my brother nervously say hi before skulking off. ‘Has anyone taught him how to talk to girls?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ my mum says. ‘He needs to focus on school.’
With my auntie calling her over, my mum wanders off. That’s when Olly and I exchange a glance, a shared look that means one thing: we’re going to get Jacob a girlfriend.
Jacob has always kind of done his own thing and had his own ideas about everything. Like, he knows what he likes and what he doesn’t like, and that’s that. I remember when he was a kid, not long before I moved away – he was such a fussy eater. He would pretty much only eat chicken nuggets, beans and ketchup, and the only thing he’d drink was Coke, and that was that. My mum would beg him to eat fruit and vegetables – for years – but he just refused. It got to a point where she was quite frustrated, and she would even threaten to ground him if he didn’t eat something for dinner other than chicken nuggets and beans covered in ketchup – that’s when Olly and I stepped in. The stick clearly wasn’t working, so we tried the carrot instead, and within fifteen minutes, that’s exactly what Jacob had eaten, and he realised that vegetables weren’t actually that bad. What we did was, we offered him prizes in exchange for trying certain foods. So he’d try carrots, we’d buy him a toy he wanted. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t (he didn’t like salmon, no matter how many toys we promised him), but the important thing was that we knew how to get through to him. I almost feel sorry for him, being stuck at home with just mum and dad now.
‘Hey,’ Jack says after wandering back over. I guess my dad must have released him.
‘Hey,’ I reply, sliding an arm around his waist.
‘You two are an interesting couple,’ Olly observes.
‘How so?’ Jack asks curiously.
‘I dunno,’ he says. ‘Can’t put my finger on it.’
I laugh my brother’s comments off.
‘Speaking of interesting couples, where’s Sara?’ I ask.
‘She’s not feeling good, she stayed at home.’
‘Is it because she needs a sandwich?’ I ask. I find it really odd that she’s healthy-eating her way through her pregnancy, because everyone else I know in the history of the world ever has eaten whatever they wanted. ‘Or does she just dislike being around me that much?’
I’ve always had this feeling Sara doesn’t like me much. She’s just always so grumpy with me, and that’s when I actually see her. When I’m in town, Olly always seems to come over alone.
‘Don’t start,’ he says. ‘She’s been in a bad mood since someone told her she was getting big at work the other day.’
‘She’s pregnant,’ I point out. ‘You get big because there’s a human growing inside you.’
‘I know. She knows,’ Olly tells me. ‘She’s kind of given in now. She’s eating more and relaxing more.’
‘Good,’ I say firmly.
‘So, is it being pregnant that’s making her so grumpy?’ Jack asks curiously.
‘No, mate,’ Olly says, patting him on the back. ‘She’s always been like that.’
‘Really?’ Jack asks me as soon as we’re alone.
‘Really,’ I reply. ‘Olly is so much fun and Sara is so serious all the time – I don’t know how they wound up together.’
‘Opposites attract sometimes,’ Jack points out. ‘So, are you going to eat whatever you want when you have kids?’
Jack’s question feels like a bit of a weird one, until I realise that maybe this is just a low-key way of finding out if I want kids.
‘Oh man, are you kidding? It’s basically a green light to eat whatever you want, right?’ I laugh. ‘Although, you kind of need to have someone to have kids with. I’m missing that vital ingredient.’
‘But you want them?’ he persists.
‘Yeah,’ I tell him. ‘Do you?’
‘I haven’t really thought about it,’ he says. ‘Except for the fact that, if I had a son, I know what his name would be, based on my surname.’
‘Oh my God, I’ve just realised, I don’t know what your surname is,’ I blurt out. ‘Which means… I don’t know what my surname is.’
Jack laughs wildly, his dimples looking more distinctive than ever.
‘Georgie Bolton,’ he says to himself. ‘I like it.’
‘Your last name is Bolton?’ I giggle. ‘What would you call your son? Troy?’
‘I’m liking the High School Musical reference,’ he laughs. ‘Maybe I’ll save that one for my second born. No, I was thinking Michael.’
‘Michael Bolton,’ I laugh. ‘Promise me you’ll do that.’
‘If I ever have kids… I promise.’
We smile at each other for a second, until Dougie’s mum announces our starters are about to be served.
We’re all ushered into the humongous dining room, which not only boasts two massive chandeliers, but a white grand piano in the corner, too.
Once we’ve all been shown to our seats, prawn cocktails are placed in front of us. Jacob has come a long way, but I don’t think he’ll be eating this, even if we promised him one of each games console currently on the market.
‘How did you get on with trying on dresses? I forgot to ask earlier,’ Fliss calls across the table to me.
‘Oh, none of them was for me,’ I lie. ‘I’ll just have to keep looking.’
‘Are you going to have a theme?’ she asks.
‘Erm, we’re not sure,’ I tell her.
She pulls a face.
‘You sure you two even want to get married? I’ve had mine all figured out for a long time,’ she tells us. ‘You’re not one of those guys who proposes because he thinks he has to, and then the girl says yes because she doesn’t wanna break up, but neither of you has any intention of actually tying the knot, are you?’
All eyes are on us.
‘I proposed because I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this woman,’ Jack says.
‘I proposed because she kept banging on about how much she wanted some bloody ring she’d seen,’ Dougie adds, unromantically. ‘So I took her to her favourite restaurant and paid the waiter to slip it on one of her chips.’
‘Wow,’ I can’t help but blurt out.
‘How did Jack propose?’ my mum asks curiously. ‘You never told us the story.’
Jack and I look at each, smile sweetly and give one another’s hand a squeeze. It seems like an intimate exchange between two people about to share their most romantic moment to date with their nearest and dearest, but it’s actually a shared, nonverbal communication that says ‘what the fuck do we tell people, because we never considered people might ask about this’.
When John proposed to me, it was nothing to write home about – literally. I sent my family a message telling them I was engaged, but I didn’t tell them how John popped the question because it barely popped at all.
One night, when we were in bed, I was reading a book and John was watching footage of a concert he’d recently performed on his iPad, when suddenly he turned to me and said: ‘People keep asking when we’re getting engaged.’ His proposal followed a few minutes later in the form of: ‘So… shall we?’ I don’t think putting an engagement ring on a chip is especially romantic, but it beats my story. We need a story that’s going to put both of those to shame.
‘Jack, erm, he took me to Santa Monica Pier – it’s one of my favourite places – so he knew he had to pop the question there. On the Pacific Wheel.’
I add the bit about the big wheel to the end of my sentence to try and jazz it up a bit because, other than being a beautiful location (and genuinely one of my favourite places), this story isn’t really anything special.
The Accidental Honeymoon Page 15