I let myself in and give him a shy wave back. He’s still there, checking I get in okay. My Mum always said that’s a good sign in a man.
I run up the stairs and let myself into my flat, the twinkling fairy lights inviting me in. Who knows? By Christmas time I might just have a boyfriend.
‘Florence!’
I wake with a start. What was that?
‘Florence!’
There it is again. Where is it coming from? Am I still dreaming? I stick a toe out of my warm duvet, and the harsh reality of iciness tells me I’m awake. It’s bloody freezing. I grab my phone to check the time and see three missed calls from an unknown number. What is going on? It’s three am.
I begrudgingly get out of bed, quickly wrapping myself up into my big fluffy dressing gown and slippers. I follow the calling, out towards the small balcony. Who the hell is that?
I open the patio doors, the arctic air whirling into the flat. God, whoever this idiot is I’m going to kill them. I step out into the wintry night and look down. What? Hugh is looking up at me, mid calling my name.
‘Hugh?’ I lean over the balcony to see him clearer. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
He beams up at me. ‘I’m so sorry to wake you, but I haven’t been able to sleep.’
‘So you thought you’d wake me?’ I whisper-shout back. I don’t want to wake my neighbours.
‘Not just for that reason. I’ve been thinking all night and...well...I think I should just come out and say it.’
‘O...kay,’ I nod, bemused.
‘I think we should get married.’
My eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. He wants to what now?
‘Are you joking?’ I ask in all seriousness.
‘No. I’m deadly serious.’ He stares up at me expectantly. ‘Look, I told you earlier how I think marriage binds you together and makes it harder to end a relationship. We like each other, we get on well, and it’s clear we’re sexually attracted to each other. Why not skip all of the dating crap and get to know each other as we go?’
He’s serious?
‘Because we could be totally wrong for each other,’ I counter.
‘I doubt that. And anyway, we’ll always find a problem with each other eventually, but if we’re married, we’ll have to just learn to live with it.’
‘I mean...you’re really serious about this?’ I check, wondering if it could be an elaborate joke.
‘Yep. I think we should get married on Christmas Day. Seeing as you love Christmas so much.’
‘That’s only twenty-four days away! You want me to get married in twenty-four days?’ I shriek in disbelief.
‘Shut up!’ a neighbour yells. ‘Some of us are trying to sleep!’
I grimace down at Hugh. Oops.
He smiles. ‘Why not? Think about it. We could be each other’s happily ever after. Why wait?’
Maybe he’s right. This gorgeous guy wants to be my husband. Why the hell am I even hesitating? Because he could have severe mental health problems…
‘Wait a sec.’
I close the doors and run downstairs to meet him. As soon as I open the main door, he’s there, smiling beautifully.
‘So...?’ he asks, a little nervously, his eyes crinkled with nerves.
Let’s recap; a gorgeous man wants to marry me. Am I really going to turn him down?
I take a deep breath. ‘Yes. My answer’s yes.’
His smile lights up his entire face, his turquoise eyes glowing. He grabs my face and pulls me in for the most romantic, enlightening kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Forget a boyfriend. By Christmas, it looks like I’ll have a husband.
Chapter Two
Saturday 3rd December
When I wake up in the morning, I’m sure it was all a dream. That is until I open a text from an unknown number.
‘Morning, wife to be ;-) Got lots to organise today. We should probably tell our parents. That’s assuming you have parents alive. Lots to learn. Call me when you’re awake xx
I smile to myself. He’s actually crazy. I’m apparently marrying a crazy person. Which makes me a little crazy too. Maybe we are made for each other. But I mean, Jesus. What the hell will I tell my Mum? She’s going to have me committed. And not only her but everyone. The question how long have you been together normally gets an answer other than ‘a day’.
I push out those thoughts and call him instead.
He answers on the second ring.
‘Morning, Florence,’ he practically purrs down the phone.
God, even his voice drips with sexiness.
I clear my throat. ‘Morning.’ I sound like a depressed frog.
‘I’m guessing you’re not a morning person?’
I smile to myself. ‘I’m not the worst, but some prat woke me up at three am.’
‘No!’ he jokes. ‘Don’t worry. Soon you’ll have a big, burly husband to tell any gentlemen callers to piss off.’
I laugh. ‘Oh really. Have I agreed to marry someone else?’
‘Hey!’ he shouts, clearly having winded his ego. I don’t know why I said it. He is big and burly. ‘I might have to spank you when I see you.’
‘Oh God, you’re not into spanking, are you?’ I ask with a cringe.
‘Nah, not really. That is unless you are.’
‘No thanks. My last boyfriend read Fifty Shades and thought I wanted to be beaten every time we had sex. It was beyond awkward.’
‘Why didn’t you just tell him you hated it?’
Because I hate confrontation.
‘Because I didn’t want to embarrass him.’
‘Right, well that’s noted. You need to be bossier in the bedroom.’
I’m glad he can’t see me as I redden.
‘So you wanna meet for breakfast and discuss how we’re gonna tell the parents?’
I look at the clock. It’s only nine am on a Saturday.
‘I’m still in bed,’ I admit. ‘But how do you know I’m not on my way to work?’
‘You told me last night that you’d taken the month off to get ready for Christmas. Whatever that means.’
God, he has no idea about the joy of Christmas. I’m really going to have to educate him. I don’t want to marry Scrooge.
‘I’ll need at least an hour.’
‘No need.’ I hear the smile in his voice. ‘I’m outside.’
What? I race over to my patio doors and see him below the balcony holding up two take away cups and a bag of what I’m assuming is food.
‘If this is how married life is going to be, I’m getting very excited.’
What a dream man. He brought us sausage and bacon rolls. Plus, he rightly guessed that I’m a coffee girl. He was shocked when I told him I take two sugars.
After a lazy breakfast on the sofa, it suddenly occurs to me that I’m wearing no makeup and must look terrifying to him.
‘You must be horrified to see me without makeup,’ I say, shyly.
He looked my face over. A long, lingering gaze.
‘Nah. I reckon I could wake up to that every morning and not shudder in too much horror.’
I throw the napkin at him. ‘Cheeky bastard.’ Just how I like them.
He starts biting his lip, his eyes troubled. ‘So...do you think we could get our parents together tonight to tell them?’
Oh God. This is where I have to tell him my Dad’s not on the scene. ‘It’s only my Mum anyway.’
‘Oh, your Dad not in the picture?’ he asks with enquiring eyes.
‘No, he left when I was four. I don’t really remember him.’ I shrug to let him know that it doesn’t bother me.
‘Crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
He’s so sweet.
‘No, it’s fine.’ I force a laugh. ‘You can’t miss what you can’t remember.’
Now I just need to tell him that my Mum’s a lesbian and will want to bring her life partner Joan.
His eyes scan over my face. ‘Are you sure you’re not
upset?’
‘No. I just...’ I swallow, my throat dry. ‘I need to tell you something else.’
He frowns, a comical look on his face. ‘You haven’t got a penis, have you?’ I burst out laughing, glad for the light relief. ‘Because I’m afraid that would be a deal breaker.’
I shove him on the shoulder playfully. ‘No, idiot. But...’ I twist my hands in my lap. ‘Well...my Mum...’
He sighs heavily. ‘Jesus, spit it out, Flo.’
It’s the first time he’s called me Flo. It feels weird.
I take a deep, steadying breath. ‘My Mum’s a lesbian,’ I blurt out, staring down at the floor. ‘Wherever we invite her, she’ll want to bring her partner, Joan.’
He stares at me aghast but quickly tries to recover and act unbothered.
‘No way,’ he shrugs casually. ‘Do you and her partner get on?’
‘Sort of,’ I nod. ‘She’s fine, and she makes my mum happy. That’s the main thing.’
‘That’s very mature of you.’ He smiles. ‘Well, then we’ll invite them both. How about we say eight pm at my parents’ house?’
‘Do you think they’d mind?’ I ask with a grimace.
He snorts a laugh. ‘Oh, please! They love any excuse for a party.’
‘Okay,’ I smile, this all still feeling unbelievably weird. ‘So I guess we’re meeting the parents.’
‘Yep,’ he smiles dreamily. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m hoping they offer to help pay for the wedding. Twenty-two days doesn’t give us much time to save.’
‘I’d be happy with a small wedding anyway,’ I insist, happy to have it just immediate family and friends.
He smiles again, but this time it doesn’t meet his eyes. What is he so worried about?
Chapter Three
Saturday 3rd December Continued
Hugh’s invited me round his flat before we go on to his Mum’s. I get the feeling he’s apprehensive about me meeting her and his Dad. He avoided a lot of questions I fired at him. I get the feeling they’re a bit embarrassing, like my Mum too. So, while I nervously despaired over what to wear I also baked a banana bread as a present to her. I never like to meet anyone empty handed, and everyone likes banana bread, right?
In the end, I’ve decided on tight black skinny jeans, Chelsea boots and a burgundy jumper top which hangs low on one side, exposing my nice shoulder. It’s my favourite shoulder. I have this little freckle on it, which my Mum used to always say was adorable.
He gave me the address of his flat. It’s in the posh area of West Hampstead. I wonder what he does for a living. I should really find that out about my future husband. I mean, hopefully, he does have a job. What if I’ve just agreed to marry some jobless slob who expects me to support him? Although I can’t really imagine, morning person Hugh that lives in West Hampstead, waiting in line at the job centre.
The taxi drops me off outside an imposing, old, gated building. It looks like an old school with huge sash windows and pointed chapel-like roof. He lives here?
He buzzes me up, and I take advantage of the lift. He lives on the top floor. Of course, he does.
I knock on number 19 and wait, hopping nervously from foot to foot. God, I’m crazy going along with this. What if he’s a murderer and this whole thing is a rouse so he can lure me here and chop me up into little pieces.
The door swings open, the smell of cinnamon and mandarin hitting my nostrils. Then it’s his face. My god, he’s beautiful. All chiselled jaw, olive skin and turquoise eyes.
The corners of his eyes crinkle. ‘Hi.’ He grabs me by my hand. ‘Come in.’
I let myself be dragged inside. My mouth drops open when I take in the sight in front of me. Not the amazing open plan flat, with huge sash windows overlooking London, but the decorations. He’s decorated it for Christmas. I thought he said he never decorates?
The whole place is dark apart from the soft glow of candles and fairy lights. In front of his fireplace is a huge pine Christmas tree with the most beautiful rose gold and cream decorations dangling from it.
‘Well,’ he grins, putting his arms out wide. ‘What do you think?’
‘You decorated?’ I ask in disbelief.
He nods excitedly. ‘For you.’
Am I dreaming? How is this guy actually real?
‘Really?’ I giggle with a snort. Sexy, real sexy.
‘Yep. And...’ He reaches into the tree and pulls out a bauble. Is he...giving me a bauble as a present?
‘I got you this.’
I try to act excited and not puzzled. Then he opens up the bauble and inside is the most beautiful engagement ring I’ve ever seen. A huge oval soft-pink diamond is held in place by a rose gold band. There are little indentations on the band. When I look closer, I see that they’re snowflakes. Oh my god. How the heck has he turned this round in a day? He must know some awesome people.
He bends down onto one knee, holding it out to me.
‘Florence...’ he pauses, his eyes darting from side to side. ‘Is it bad I don’t know the rest of your name?’ he chuckles.
‘It’s Florence Abigail Gray,’ I quickly whisper.
‘Florence Abigail Gray, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
I try not to smile. ‘Only if you promise we can decorate like this every Christmas.’
He sighs, pretending to be exasperated at the idea. ‘Go on then.’
‘Then my answer is yes.’
He beams back at me, standing and removing the ring from the bauble. It’s only then he seems to notice the carrier bag in my hand.
‘What’s this?’ he asks with interest.
‘Oh, I baked your Mum some banana bread.’
A smile spreads on his lips. ‘Honey, you baked! Already acting like the little lady at home.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I’m not going to be your little lady. But you’re lucky that I do like to bake.’
‘That’s good to know.’ He takes it from my hand, places it on the windowsill and slowly slides the ring onto my finger. It’s a bit big, but it’s so beautiful.
‘Then it’s official now. I put a ring on it.’
I laugh and hit him in the chest. He pulls me close to him and kisses me. God, I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of his kisses.
‘We should probably get going now. Now...the thing with my Mother.’
I look back at him, my forehead frowning.
‘What about your mother?’
‘She’s...she’s a bit hard to take sometimes. In fact, some people would just say that she’s a stuck up bitch.’
I laugh nervously. ‘I’m sure she’s not that bad.’ I mean, I brought banana bread. I’m pretty sure she’ll love me. Most parents do.
He takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly. ‘Just remember that whatever she says, I have my own mind. And I want to marry you.’
I smile shyly. I still can’t believe this stud muffin wants to marry me.
‘I want to marry you too.’
We arrive outside the massive country house at quarter past eight. We’re late. Shit, hardly a good first impression. This place is ridiculously huge.
‘You didn’t mention that your family are the royal family,’ I joke.
He grimaces. ‘I don’t want this to change how you look at me. Yes, my family have money, but I’m no spoilt rich boy.’
‘You do have a job then?’ I joke.
‘Yep. I’m a property developer. I actually developed my building and liked it so much I saved myself the best apartment.’
But he probably had a starting hand. I doubt he saved up every last penny himself.
Then it dawns on me. I’m poor compared to him. His Mum is going to hate me. And I’m wearing jeans. Fucking jeans!
‘Why didn’t you warn me?’ I shriek, hitting him on his shoulder. ‘You should have told me to dress up more. I had no idea I was meeting the Queen!’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he shrugs, glancing over my body. ‘You look gorgeous.’
&n
bsp; ‘I look fine to meet in a normal person’s living room, but not a fucking palace!’
‘Ooh, would you listen to that potty mouth,’ he teases. ‘I didn’t realise I was marrying such a sailor!’
‘Shut up! I’m nervous enough.’ My stomach’s in knots.
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. ‘There really is no need. Remember, it doesn’t matter what they think. Just me.’
‘Okay...but they haven’t met my lesbian mother yet.’ That’s when I spot her beaten up Volvo. ‘Uh-oh. I spoke too soon. We need to get in there ASAP.’
He parks haphazardly, and I practically leap from the car. He grabs my hand and pulls me along after him.
‘Calm down. I’m sure it’s fine.’
He knocks on the door and its opened immediately by a little Filipino maid.
‘Hello, Mr Humphrey.’
His name is Hugh Humphrey? My surname will be Humphrey? Florence Humphrey. I actually quite like that.
‘Your mother is in the parlour.’
Parlour? Who the hell calls a sitting room a parlour? Although looking around at these huge ceilings and grandeur, I’m quickly realising this isn’t your normal kind of house.
‘Thank you, Sara.’
I’ve noticed that his whole demeanour has changed since entering the house. He’s standing taller, but his shoulders are tense. Now I look at him, so is his face.
He guides me down a long hallway, his hand on the small of my back until I follow him into a magnificent room. Magnificent apart from the cold feeling which settles upon me. There’s already tension in the room.
My Mum and Joan are standing together holding a glass of champagne. Across from them is a man and a woman, who I can only assume are his parents. His Mum is wearing a cream jacket with matching pencil skirt and heels. Her blonde hair is coiffed to perfection, and her perfect face is looking at me with severe distaste.
‘Mother. This is Florence.’
He pulls me towards him and wraps his arm around my waist. A statement.
‘Florence,’ she nods politely, looking me up and down with distaste. ‘How wonderful to meet you. She looks at Hugh enquiringly and I realise he hasn’t explained yet.
Adventurous Proposal Page 2
