by Anna Bell
Praise for Anna Bell
‘The perfect laugh-out-loud love story’ Louise Pentland
‘Smart, witty and completely fresh’ Cathy Bramley
‘Romantic and refreshing’ Mhairi McFarlane
‘A fun, bouncy, brilliant tale’ Heat
‘Funny, relatable and fabulously written’ Daily Express
‘Perfect for fans of Sophie Kinsella’ Take a Break
‘Romance, comedy and drama sparkle in this fun, fresh and frothy concoction’ Lancashire Evening Post
‘A hilarious and heartwarming story’ Don’t Bend the Spine
‘Properly funny stuff’ Fabulous
‘A funny, feel-good read’ Closer
‘A brilliantly funny, romantic and effervescent read’ Frost magazine
ANNA BELL lives in the South of France with her young family and energetic Labrador. When not chained to her laptop, Anna can be found basking in the sun in the summer, heading to the ski slopes in the winter (to drink hot chocolate and watch – she can’t ski) or having a sneaky treat from the patisserie – all year round! We Just Clicked is Anna’s eighth novel.
You can find out more about Anna on her website – www.annabellwrites.com or follow her on Twitter @annabell_writes
We Just Clicked
Anna Bell
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Copyright
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2020
Copyright © Anna Bell 2020
Anna Bell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © April 2020 ISBN: 9780008340780
Version 2020-04-07
Note to Readers
This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:
Change of font size and line height
Change of background and font colours
Change of font
Change justification
Text to speech
Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008340773
For Evan, who I become prouder of every day.
Contents
Cover
Praise
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Dedication
Prologue
Two Years Later
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgements
About the Publisher
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 c
ounter 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.
We arrived at the pub before Cameron and his friends, so we ordered drinks and took them out onto the terrace. We managed to find a recently vacated table on the edge, still covered with empty glasses.
‘Will you take my photo?’ I said, looking over at the view over the Thames towards St Paul’s on the other side.
I didn’t bother to wait for a reply; I simply held out my phone to Ben and struck a pose.
‘Is this for your Instagram? I see you’re doing really well. Over 500 followers?’ he said.
‘I know. Can you believe it?’
‘I told you I had a good feeling about it,’ he said, snapping a couple of shots. He checked his work before handing it over with a nod. ‘Not bad.’
I had a look myself and was suitably impressed.
‘Perfect, I can post that later with all the appropriate hashtags.’
‘Move over Zoella,’ he said sipping his drink.
‘I don’t think I’d ever be that big, it’s just nice doing something creative again. And you never know, I could perhaps try and make the move into marketing or PR by showing agencies that I understand how to build a brand.’
‘Still having no luck on the job front?’
I shook my head. I took a job as a copywriter for an advertising agency that specialised in medical products straight out of university. I thought I was going to have a glittering advertising career and that it would all be cocktails and swanky parties à la Mad Men, only the reality was far from glamorous. I didn’t mind when I was younger, when it was all about the pay cheque and where the next party was, but as I’d got older I wanted to start focusing on my career. Only five years writing copy about haemorrhoid creams had left me pigeonholed in the medical sector and longing to do work that people didn’t read in desperation because they had piles.
‘Well, I think you’re onto something with the Instagram thing. From what I’ve seen on your feed, you’re a natural. I’m sure you’ll be making a living out of it in no time.’
I laughed hard. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it would be to get to that stage?’
Ben shrugged. ‘I know you could do it. You know, I’m proud of you for giving it a go.’ He chinked his glass against mine.
‘And I’m proud of you, finally getting married. Can I see the ring again?’ I said, clapping my hands together.
He looked around to see if anyone was watching and he leant down into his bag, which he had looped around his leg. He pulled the little ring box out and flipped it open, holding it out to me.
‘Oh, it’s even more beautiful than I remember it being,’ I said, looking at it longingly. ‘Can I try it on?’
‘I guess so, it’s probably safer on your finger than it is in my bag,’ he said as I picked it up and slipped it on.
I held my hand out and it felt complete again. The table next to us burst into applause. I looked around to see what they were clapping at and it took me a good few seconds to realise they were all staring at me and Ben.
‘Congratulations,’ one of them shouted whilst raising their glass.
‘What the… Oh no, it’s not what it looks like. He’s my brother,’ I said in slight horror as I tried to slip the ring back off my finger but it didn’t want to budge.
The clapping petered out and they all looked a bit embarrassed.
‘I was just trying it on,’ I said, feeling ridiculous and yanking it even harder, but it wasn’t moving in the slightest.
‘Well, I hope the actual proposal goes better than that,’ said Ben, taking a large sip of his drink.
‘Um, that’s if I can give you the ring back,’ I said, holding up my hand. My finger looked like a plump sausage and it was at least double its normal size.
‘You’re joking, right?’ he said, laughing a little awkwardly before he realised I wasn’t laughing back. ‘Izzy!’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, wincing. ‘It won’t come o
ff.’
I tried to pull it as hard as I could.
‘Don’t do that,’ he said, screwing up his face. ‘You might break it.’
He took an audible deep breath before he stood up.
‘Ice, you need to put it in ice. Your hand will shrink,’ he said.
‘I can put it in my cider,’ I said, about to plunge it in.
‘Don’t you dare, it’ll get sticky. Hold tight, I’ll get some from the bar.’
Hold tight, I muttered to myself as I sat there looking at my ever-increasing sausage finger.
‘Izzy,’ shouted a voice and I looked up to see Cameron and a few of his work colleague friends heading across the pub terrace, glasses in hand. ‘I didn’t realise you’d already be here; I would have got you a drink,’ he said as he sat down next to me and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. ‘So how did the engagement ring shopping go?’
‘Really well,’ I said holding my hand up. ‘I decided I’d save us the trouble and get the ball rolling.’
I’d been about to laugh, thinking he would too, when his whole face started to crumple.
‘Er, Izzy, I don’t know what you were thinking but I really don’t think we’re there, are we? I mean, we only live together because you were living in Balham and I don’t go further out than Zone 2. I mean, you know how much I care about you and all—’
‘Prosecco on the house,’ said a woman, cutting Cameron off mid-flow. ‘For the happy couple, I hear you just got engaged!’
Cameron looked up at the barmaid in absolute horror, his face turning pale. I risked a glance at his work colleagues who were all trying to look anywhere but in our direction. All except Tiffany, who was giving me her usual pursed-lipped, narrowed-eye look. I’d long suspected she fancied Cameron, even though he denied it.
‘Actually, we didn’t,’ I said, mortified. ‘It was all just a misunderstanding. I was trying on a ring for my brother and it got stuck.’
‘Oh well,’ said the woman, looking unbothered. ‘You might as well have it now anyway, it’s been written off by our boss.’
She placed the tray with the bottle and glasses on the table and I muttered a thank you.
