Still, I felt confident as I boarded the bus home that Callie was wrong. I wasn’t going to turn into some spoiled brat insisting that it must be all ‘My Day, My Way’ (which appeared to be the mantra of Lacy Garter, the agony aunt at Inspired Bride magazine). Well, I would actually want things my way, and Nick’s, because that’s what it was about: our future together, moving forward from where we’d been before. Not custom-made basques and ombré icing.
And anyway, there was a really good chance that Nick hadn’t meant it and would change his mind. Or I would. In which case we’d just carry on as we’d been before. It was all fine. We didn’t need a wedding – we just needed to be together.
I’d take the magazines home to Nick, I decided, along with the rest of the wine gums (all five of them), and we could read them and have a good laugh about Highland castles and croquembouches, and then talk about last night, and decide what to do. Whether we carried on as we were or went ahead with the smallest wedding ever, it would be fine with me.
“Hello!” I called, opening the front door.
“Hi, Pip,” said Nick. “I’m in the office with Spanx. Come and have a look at this, and tell me how it went with Callie.”
Nick works from our spare room, where just about every inch of space is taken up by his iMac, his scanner, printer, graphics tablet and all the rest. Usually when I look over his shoulder as he works, I’m dazzled by edgy magazine layouts, modernist logo designs or sleek website treatments (when I can see anything past the furry ginger body of Spanx, Nick’s self-appointed junior designer). Now, though, I could see a complex grid of words and figures.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“I’m doing a spreadsheet,” he said proudly. “For the wedding. I’ve got about two hundred names so far. We might have to cut down a bit.”
“Two hundred…” I leaned against the door frame, clasping the glossy magazines to my chest like armour. “Nick, what on earth are you…?”
“Hey, did you know we need to take out wedding insurance?” he said. “And is that Inspired Bride magazine? Awesome! Let’s have a read.”
Acknowledgements
Although It Would Be Wrong to Steal My Sister’s Boyfriend (Wouldn’t It?) took less than three months to write, the journey to publication has been a long one and wouldn’t have been completed without the help of many wonderful people.
Huge thanks to my agent, Peta Nightingale at LAW, for believing in me and supporting me, and for all her hard work and excellent advice. My sister Jassy Mackenzie and my friend Lucy Brett read the first draft and provided constructive criticism and some very welcome praise – thank you, you are both amazing. Thanks also to Tash Webber for the gorgeous cover design; to Rachel Alexander for her advice on the world of book publishing; to iron woman Fi Hourston for letting me pick her brains on triathlons; and to Sarah Harman and Jane Brooke for inspiring the Minge Bus.
And finally to Hopi, for being by my side every step of the way. You’re the best and I love you.
About the author
Sophie Ranald is the youngest of five sisters. She was born in Zimbabwe and lived in South Africa until an acute case of itchy feet brought her to London in her mid-20s.
As an editor for a customer publishing agency, Sophie developed her fiction-writing skills describing holidays to places she’d never visited. In 2011, she decided to disregard all the good advice given to aspiring novelists and attempt to write full-time. After one false start, It Would Be Wrong to Steal My Sister’s Boyfriend (Wouldn’t It?) seemed to write itself.
Sophie also writes for magazines and online about food, fashion and running. She lives in south-east London with her amazing partner Hopi and Purrs, their adorable little cat.
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