I look up just in time to see her walk through, all red curls bouncing gloriously along. Damn it, she’s beautiful. I can tell she doesn’t even wear much makeup. She’s an English rose. Bitch.
‘Florence,’ she smiles, taking me in an awkward hug.
‘Hi, Felicity.’ I sit down and watch while she confidently orders a mocha latte.
‘So...’ I start, wringing my hands on the table. ‘You wanted to meet today. What’s up?’
She looks down at the table, her face growing troubled.
‘It’s a little awkward...and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think I’m trying to cause trouble.’
Oh, here we go. Something someone says just before they try to cause said trouble.
‘But? What?’ I push, sounding pretty aggressive. I just want to hear her bullshit so that I can dismiss it.
‘I wondered whether Hugh told you how we broke up?’
I can’t tell her I know it’s because he didn’t want to marry her.
‘He mentioned it briefly,’ I say as vaguely as I can, looking down into my coffee.
Her mocha latte gets delivered, and she pauses to take a sip. Trying to build up the tension, drama queen bitch.
‘We’d been together a good few years, and I was desperate to get married. He was never really into it.’
So far this is what I know.
‘Anyway, I fell pregnant.’
Shit. Bombshell. KABOOM!
‘It obviously wasn’t planned,’ she explains, with a sad smile, ‘but Hugh promised to stand by me. He even proposed.’
I nearly choke on my coffee. Engaged?
‘You were engaged?’ I utter in disbelief.
Wow. This changes everything. He lied to me. He told me he never wanted to get married to her, and now I hear he proposed. Just like he proposed to me. It makes my proposal feel tainted. Does he just propose to everyone?
‘Yes,’ she nods, ‘but only briefly. You see, I knew he’d only proposed because of the baby. No matter how I tried to think about it, it always came back to that fact. Without meaning to, I’d trapped him. It was the baby keeping him.’
I smile sadly back at her. I’m not sure what else to do. I can’t help but feel terribly sorry for her.
‘Anyway, around the ten-week mark I lost the baby.’
My mouth drops open.
‘Oh my god. I’m so sorry.’
This is so not the story I was expecting to hear. Where’s the bitch telling me he doesn’t love me? This is genuinely heart wrenching.
‘Yeah, it was awful. Hugh and I were understandably devastated, and in my grief, I pushed him away. I broke off our engagement and told him I didn’t want him anymore. I just couldn’t bear him staying with me out of pity.’
I’m really not sure where this story is going now. She looks like going to continue.
‘He begged for me to take him back, but I told him he wasn’t the marrying type. That he didn’t have that kind of commitment in him.’
Now the pieces of the puzzle are starting to come together. She’s insinuating that the only reason he got engaged to me was to prove to her he’s the marrying type. Make her jealous so that she begs for him to come back to her.
‘So, you think he wants you back?’ I ask bluntly.
She fidgets in her lap. ‘I’m not sure. The first I heard of it was the engagement party invitation.’
Okay, that’s a good sign. It means he didn’t go straight to her to tell her of the engagement. Plus, he didn’t even send the invite.
‘Look, don’t worry. His Mother sent that invitation, not Hugh. I know what you’re trying to say; that he’s using me to make you jealous, but I seriously doubt that. What me and Hugh have is real.’
She frowns. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Trust me,’ I smile smugly. ‘You don’t fuck like we do in order to make someone else jealous.’
Her face drops. Ha, that shut her up. Yeah, bitch. I’ve got your man, and he’s not going anywhere. God, when did I get so ghetto?
I stand up and grab my bag. ‘Now, thanks very much for your concern, but I know full well what I’m getting into, and so does Hugh.’
She opens her mouth to respond, but I don’t give her the chance. I storm out of there, leaving her to pay the bill. I’m sure she has a bag full of dosh, the swarmy, posh bitch.
I walk out onto the high street, the cold air making my ears sting. That or someone’s talking about me. How the fuck could this happen? I might have played it up to her, but the truth is that this is something that a fiancée should know. It’s something that should have been shared during one of those deep and meaningful late night chats you have in the first year. But we’ve barely learnt each other’s middle names, let alone discussed a previous pregnancy and engagement.
I have to speak to him. I need to know—need to hear from his own lips that I’m not a consolation prize. That I’m not some stupid ploy to win Felicity back. And my worst fear—that I’m not some handy baby-making machine that he needs in order to stop his grieving.
With every day that passes, I feel more and more unsure of this marriage. God, sometimes I just feel like I need some sort of sign that I’m doing the right thing. That everything will work out.
That’s when I see it. Staring back at me from the window. My dress. My dream wedding dress that I didn’t even know I wanted. It’s like someone has gone into my head and worked out what would look perfect on me.
The fitted bodice is asymmetrically pleated and falls off the shoulder making a portrait neckline. It flares into a sculptured organza ball gown skirt with horsehair edged layers. It’s so simple, yet bloody stunning. A nod to old Hollywood. I need it.
I wander into the shop, as if under a spell.
‘The dress,’ I stammer frantically, pointing at it. ‘In the window.’
She frowns. ‘I’m afraid we’ve been meaning to remove that all day.’
‘What?’ Oh god. I feel my hope sinking like the Titanic.
‘The supplier has discontinued the line, and we’ve just placed our last order. There’s only this sample left.’
‘What size is it?’ I ask, secretly praying that it’ll fit me.
She grimaces. ‘It’s a twelve. Do you think that would fit you?’
Hope inflates in my chest like a balloon.
‘Is the Pope a Catholic? Let’s try on that bad boy!’
My God, it’s like the dress was designed especially for me. It fits like a glove and makes me look so much taller and elegant than I actually am. I have to have it, but I haven’t dared ask the price. I don’t want the last bit of reality to crash down around me.
‘It was on special offer,’ the lady says, fussing around with the dress. ‘But because it’s the last dress left...’
Oh God, she’s going to double it in price. She knows I’ve fallen hook line and sinker for it and she’s using it to her advantage. What a bitch. Just when I think this wedding might not be doomed, this happens.
‘And because I can see you love it, I’m willing to give you a further twenty percent discount.’
I nearly pass out in shock.
‘What? You’re joking! How much? How much?’
She smiles sweetly. ‘I’m not joking. Rarely do I see a bride suit a dress so well.’
‘I bet you say that to all the brides,’ I laugh, slightly hysterical. I need that price. Need to hear it out loud. If I can’t afford it, I think I’ll scream and be admitted to a mental ward.
‘With all the discounts it falls at £575.’
I know my heart should drop in my chest and I should realise defeat. It’s over budget. But I don’t. Instead, I’m handing over my credit card and thanking God such a dress was created. I just won’t mention it to Hugh.
Thursday 15th December
Hugh’s picking me up from mine for us to go house viewing. I finally found a place I liked on their website. It’s the most adorable three-bed cottage with original doors, a butler sink and the cutest
little garden.
He buzzes up. ‘You ready?’ he asks in a husky voice.
‘Coming down.’
I practically skip towards his car to him waiting with my door open. I lean over to peck a quick kiss on his lips.
‘What are you so chipper about?’ he asks with a quizzical grin.
‘Nothing,’ I say with a secret smile.
He shuts the door and jumps in his side. ‘Seriously. You’re freaking me out. What’s happened?’
‘I found my dress,’ I admit, unable to hide my happiness.
‘No way! I bet that’s cheered you right up.’
‘Yep. Just when I was having doubts, I got the sign I needed.’
He frowns. ‘Just when you were having doubts?’
Uh-oh. I didn’t want to let him know that. Damn happiness taking over any rational thoughts.
‘No, I didn’t mean that.’
‘You obviously did,’ he counters, suddenly serious.
‘No. It’s just...’ Oh God, I really don’t want to ruin my good mood right now, and I know if I bring up Felicity it will be ruined. ‘I was just freaking out earlier. I’m totally fine now.’
‘You’re sure?’ he asks, furrowing his eyebrows at me.
‘Positive,’ I nod. ‘Now let’s see some houses!’
Well, this has quickly turned into a fucking disaster. We can’t agree on anything! He wants something completely modern and edgy, whereas I want something cute with character. Neither one of us wants to back down, and it’s going to end ugly.
We’re just walking around the cottage bedroom of the house I picked when he says everything I’ve been thinking.
‘We’re never going to agree on anything, are we?’
‘Not when you’re so pig headed!’ I bark, bad temperedly. ‘What the hell is wrong with this place? It’s adorable.’
‘Yeah, for a midget! This bedroom won’t even fit my king size bed in it.’
‘It totally would!’ I protest, hand on my hip. ‘I don’t want a modern, ugly Lego house!’
He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. ‘Maybe we should just forget it.’
Oh my god. He’s admitting it. We’re not right for each other.
‘Oh, that would work out for you, wouldn’t it!’ I snap, barging past him into the hallway. ‘Show Felicity, how you’re marriage material, and then just dump me. I’m just collateral damage to you, aren’t I!’
He holds his hands up in defeat. ‘Woah. What the fuck are you talking about?’
I barge past him again, back into the bedroom. I throw myself face down on the bed. Well, I’ve fucked it up now, haven’t I?
I feel the bed sink lower as he lies down next to me. He places his hand on my shoulder and pushes me back, so I’m facing him.
‘Why on earth would you say that?’ he asks, his eyes looking deeply into mine, trying to figure out why I’m acting so hostile towards him.
Oh God, I’m going to have to admit it.
‘I met up with Felicity for coffee.’
His eyes widen before such a huge frown appears on his forehead, I’m sure he’s going to have to start saving for Botox. ‘You did? Why?’
‘Because she asked me to.’
I can already see him closing down. It’s like shutters are slamming down in his eyes. He knows I know the truth.
‘And what did she tell you?’ he asks with a gulp.
I have to tell him. I take a deep breath. ‘She told me about the baby.’
His jaw tenses, his eyes closing as if I’ve slapped him. ‘She had no fucking right,’ he finally growls.
‘She didn’t do it to be a bitch,’ I find myself admitting. ‘She just wanted to warn me. She doesn’t want me getting hurt.’
He scoffs. ‘You don’t get it. She dumped me. It wasn’t enough our baby had died. Then she threw me to the side like I wasn’t good enough for her.’
This doesn’t sound like someone over his ex. This sounds like someone still hung up on her.
‘So...if she hadn’t have dumped you, would you still be together?’
He thinks for a moment before pushing his head into the bed. ‘No. I was about to end it just before I found out about the baby. I would have broken up with her eventually, but unlike her, I wasn’t heartless enough to do it straight away—while we were grieving.’
That actually makes me feel better.
‘So you definitely don’t want her back?’
‘No,’ he snaps. ‘For fuck’s sakes, this is what she wants. What she did the whole time we were going out. She plays games. Fucks with your mind. That’s one of the reasons I like you so much.’ He strokes my cheek affectionately.
‘What, because I’m so simple?’
He snorts. ‘No.’ He spins me around on the bed and hovers over me. ‘But you are adorable.’ He kisses my cheek. ‘And straightforward.’ He kisses my other cheek. ‘And sexy.’ His kisses start trailing down my neck. Okay, now I’m starting to feel wanted.
A cough makes both of us look towards the door. Standing there is the estate agent.
‘Um...so any thoughts on the property?’
Chapter Twelve
Friday 16th December
Tonight is my hen do. Nadine, Kelly and Mia explained to me in the car that we’re starting off with a meal in a nice restaurant and then we’re hitting a club. Sounds perfect to me. I hate how most people drag it out over a whole weekend.
When we walk into my favourite restaurant, faces jump up and down screaming ‘surprise.’ God, the other diners are going to hate us.
I kiss hello to my co-workers, Mum and Joan. That’s when I see her. His Mother. My mood plummets instantly. Great, she’s here. That’s just what I need.
She waves over, attempting to be friendly, but her eyes tell a different story. Her eyes look at me like I’m a money-hungry whore.
‘Oh Florence,’ she says, walking over to me. ‘Can I have a little word please?’
Urggh. What the hell could she have to say to me that is in any way nice? Surely she wouldn’t want to upset me this early in the evening...could she?
‘Of course,’ I say, matching her fake smile.
She leads me over to a quiet corner. ‘There’s still time, you know.’
I frown. ‘Time for what?’ Does she mean starters?
She looks through me as if I’m nothing but an inconvenience. ‘To back out of this farce. This so-called engagement.’
‘Huh?’
She narrows her eyes at me as if she can actually shoot out ice with them.
‘I have no idea how you’ve managed to hook my son in. God knows, you must have a magic vagina, but my son has been through a lot the last year.’
Jesus, this woman is vile.
‘I know he has,’ I retort, smug that I know all about it. God, if I hadn’t, I’d have been mortified.
‘Then you’ll know that he doesn’t need some money-grabbing whore getting her claws into him.’
My mouth drops open. How can she openly be this bitchy to her future daughter in law?
‘Just because I haven’t signed the prenup? I’ll sign it if it stops you being this vindictive. But for some reason, I have a feeling this is just your personality.’
Her teeth clench together. ‘Why don’t we just skip the whole wedding and I’ll write you a cheque right now for a million? Hmm?’
Is she for real? What kind of person does that? Tries to pay someone off?
I sigh, feeling completely defeated. ‘What the hell do I have to say to make you believe I’m not after Hugh’s money?’
‘The money is only half of it. You’re not Hugh’s type.’
As if his Mother would have any idea what floats his boat. But I know what she means. I’m not from the right stock. That’s what rich people say, isn’t it? Make us all sound like horses. Weirdos, the lot of them.
‘Err, shouldn’t he be the one to know his type? Not his mother.’ I smile, challenging her.
‘His type is Felicity.’ I
t’s like taking a bullet to the heart. ‘And they’d still be together if Felicity hadn’t lost her mind in her grief. She’s from proper stock.’
What did I tell you? Stock! Weird. So basically—because she was brought up with money, that makes her better than me. I have no idea how that logic works. If anything, surely it just produces spoilt princesses?
‘Jesus, we’re not horses!’ I bark, my voice exploding with pent up frustration. ‘And anyway, the only thing I’m after from your son is a long and happy marriage.’
‘Good luck,’ she sneers with a glare. ‘Hugh likes the idea of marriage, but the reality will hit him like a freight train. Get ready to accept some affairs.’
‘What?’
I hate that she’s shocked me into doubting anything, but the thought of Hugh cheating on me feels like someone has physically stabbed me in the stomach. I wonder if his Dad has ever cheated? Maybe he’s seen it growing up and just thinks it’s acceptable, as long as the woman doesn’t find out or agrees to turn a blind eye.
She smirks—clearly pleased she’s shocked me. ‘You don’t honestly think you’ll be able to keep him happy forever, do you?’
‘Err...that’s kind of the idea of marriage.’
She gets her chequebook out and starts scribbling. ‘Whatever. I’m not staying here for this poor excuse of a hen night. Here is the cheque. Think about it.’ She thrusts it into my hand and turns on her heel, storming out of the main door.
‘What the hell was that all about?’ Mia asks her hand on my shoulder.
‘Oh, not much,’ I shrug sarcastically. ‘Just her offering me a million to not marry Hugh.’
The girls’ solution was to get me plastered, and I kindly obliged. Knowing that it’s also Hugh’s stag do tonight has me uneasy. Especially with these worries that he’d cheat when we’re married. That means he wouldn’t think twice about shagging some slag tonight. God, just the thought of any whore’s hands on him makes me mad with rage.
‘Flo!’ Kelly says, snapping her hands in front of me. ‘Snap out of it!’
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