Faking It

by Portia MacIntosh

  Henry just kept staring at me.

  ‘You OK, kid?’ I asked him. ‘You’re looking at me like I’m a freak.’

  ‘Do I have two mums now?’ he asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ I quickly insisted.

  ‘Josie Martin has two mums,’ he said. ‘Is it like that?’

  ‘Ella is your auntie,’ Emma told him. ‘I’m your only mum. Auntie Ella was just looking after you while I was away getting better. I didn’t want to worry you, but I should have trusted you all to understand.’

  It was tough, but the most important thing of all was reassuring them that their mum was getting the help she needed, and that I was going to stick around to take care of them all, so they didn’t need to worry about anything. I think one of the hardest things for me, when I found out about Mum, was feeling as though I didn’t have any back-up. All I had was Emma, and I was terrified of what would happen to me if something happened to her too.

  Now that I’m alone again, I remove Mum’s book from one of my bags. The first things that pop into my head are her words about making amends, and how important it is. I feel as if I’ve come such a long way, but I can’t get Christian out of my head.

  I still have Emma’s phone in my bag, so I take it out and call him.

  ‘Hello?’ he answers.

  ‘Hello,’ I reply. ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Which one?’ he replies sarcastically. ‘Now I know that there’s two of you.’

  ‘It’s Ella,’ I reply. ‘The one you’ve spent the last few weeks with. I just wanted to apologise. I was thrown in at the deep end, and you were one of only a few people who were nice to me, and any mixed messages you might have picked up on came from the confusion I was feeling. So, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ he says. ‘My feelings were hurt. I was a dick.’

  ‘It was a very unique situation,’ I reply. ‘I think we should both cut ourselves some slack.’

  ‘Is Emma going to be OK?’ he asks.

  ‘She says the outlook is good,’ I tell him. ‘And I’m going to look after her and the kids, but as myself this time.’

  ‘So, you’re sticking around indefinitely, then?’ he says.

  ‘I guess I am,’ I reply.

  ‘Well, I’ll see you around the school gates,’ he says. ‘I imagine you’ll be blocking them.’

  ‘See you then,’ I reply with a smile. You really do feel lighter when you make amends.

  I pick up Mum’s book and flick through the pages, happy to have taken something positive from it, but as I hit the blank pages at the back, I notice something written on them.

  It’s a bonus chapter, just for me – a handwritten letter from my mum.

  Dear Ella,

  I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this book, and that you’ve been able to take lots of helpful advice from it… or not, to be honest, I’m not sure that it matters all that much any more. I’ve spent years dishing out advice but I’ve never stopped to take any myself. Really, I’ve just never stopped at all. I wanted to keep smiling, keep helping people, keep moving – but we all have to stop eventually. I don’t worry about you, you’re the strong one, you’ve always been able to take care of yourself, but I do worry about your sister so please take care of her. She’s going to need it. Take my advice – don’t take my advice. Do whatever you want, marry whoever you want, quit your job to go travelling or just curl up on your sofa every night. If you have kids, let them eat chips. If you don’t have kids, that’s OK too. I used to think a life without kids was an empty one but now I’m not so sure. Just do what makes you happy, Ella. I know that you always do and that’s a quality I admire about you. Whether it’s from the chocolate wrappers I always used to find stuffed down your bed or the tattoo I don’t think you know that I know you have… Just be happy. All my love, always…

  Not Auntie Angela – Mum.

  I smile to myself as I snap the book closed and place it inside one of the bedside cabinets.

  I always wish I’d spoken to Mum more, during her last few months, but talk was always about what she needed to feel better, or much-needed distractions when she needed those. That letter is the chat that I was in desperate need of, to know that she loved me, that she believed in me, that all she wanted was for me to be happy, and I feel so, so lucky to have it. I’m sure she must have known that there was no way I would read her book straight away – perhaps that’s what she wanted?

  Things might have been tough, and they might be about to get tougher, but my mum is right. Whatever happens I can get through it, and I’ll be there for my sister all the way.

  47

  Seven months later

  ‘I’d buy a Maserati,’ Millie says.

  ‘You’re not even old enough to drive one, and you wouldn’t know a Maserati if it ran you over,’ Rich reminds her.

  ‘Well, I’m seventeen next, and that’s what I want for my birthday,’ she insists.

  ‘Ha! Sure,’ her dad replies.

  ‘Auntie Ella will buy me one, won’t you?’ Millie jokes.

  ‘Oh, don’t drag me into this,’ I say with a laugh as I place plates down on the dining table. ‘Dinner is nearly ready, by the way.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t wait, I’m starving,’ Rich says. ‘Come on, Henry.’

  ‘I’m just harvesting the money tree Auntie Ella planted,’ he calls back.

  ‘That might be the first thing I buy, you know,’ I say. ‘My own Switch, and my own copy of Animal Crossing, so I can have my own island rather than living on Henry’s.’

  I might be slightly addicted to that game now, having spent the last few months playing on Henry’s. I know, it sounds sad, but it’s so therapeutic. It’s like a much-needed escape from the real world.

  ‘It’s hard to believe you’re a bigger geek than me now,’ Marco says with a laugh as he places a large dish of lasagne down on the table.

  ‘A wise man once told me the geeks shall inherit the earth,’ I remind him. ‘I’m starting small with my island.’

  ‘I’m not complaining,’ he says, kissing me on the cheek. ‘That’s why I love you.’

  ‘I want to say this is gross to witness at the dinner table, but you two are too cute together,’ Millie says. ‘You should use the money to throw a massive wedding.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ I say with a laugh. I look over at Marco, expecting him to be freaked out, but he’s just smiling over at us while he cuts the bread.

  Tomorrow is my thirty-fifth birthday, which means that tomorrow is the day I finally get my inheritance.

  ‘What would you spend it on, Henry?’ I ask him.

  ‘I’d go on a Disney cruise,’ he replies. Something I don’t think any of us are expecting him to say. ‘Iron Man goes on them.’

  OK, now that makes sense.

  ‘What do you think Mum would do with it?’ Millie asks.

  ‘She’d put it in her savings,’ I say, in a purposefully low, slow, boring tone.

  ‘She’d pay a scientist to keep Henry young and cute forever, so he doesn’t grow into a little monster like his sister,’ Rich jokes, tickling Henry as he passes him to take his seat at the table.

  ‘Erm, actually, you’re all wrong,’ Emma announces as she walks in with Marty on his lead. ‘I’d finally book a honeymoon – the honeymoon I never got to have. My dream trip, travelling around all the best cities in Europe.’

  Rich kisses Emma on the cheek before pulling her chair out for her.

  ‘You feeling OK?’ he asks her.

  ‘Honestly, I’m feeling the best I’ve felt in a long time,’ she says with a smile. ‘We had a good jog – it’s starting to get chillier out there now though. You know, it’s funny you should be talking about what to buy – I’ve just noticed a for sale sign outside the house next door.’

  ‘I’ll go halves with you,’ Marco jokes, squeezing my shoulder.

  I laugh.

  ‘I suppose the beauty of it all is that you can do whatever you want,’ Rich says. ‘Whenever you wan
t.’

  ‘Right now, all I can think about is taking down this lasagne,’ I admit. ‘It smells amazing.’

  ‘I kinda thought you’d be more hyped for your money,’ Millie says. ‘I know I would be.’

  ‘Oh, I am,’ I insist. ‘I am.’

  Of course, I am but – and I know this would only sound lame if I said it out loud –I’ve basically got everything I could ever want, and it’s all money-can’t-buy stuff. A happy, healthy family, a job that I love, and genuinely the world’s best boyfriend. This year has been one hell of a roller-coaster ride, with some fantastic ups and some difficult downs, and Marco has been there every step of the way.

  ‘I suppose the two of you can live anywhere you want,’ Emma says. ‘Anywhere in the world.’

  ‘True, but I don’t think we’ll get too far,’ I reply. ‘Everyone we love is here in this village.’

  If there’s one thing this year has taught me, it’s just how important family is. Whether it’s the family you’re born into or the one you make for yourself, you should always keep your people close. I’ve also realised that it’s never too late to fix things, especially relationships, even if they feel irreparable. None of us know when our last day is going to be, or when our loved ones are going to leave us. Don’t waste a minute being mad, running away from things you don’t want to face. Make things right while you still can because no one on their deathbed is talking about how they wish they’d held more grudges.

  In the word of Auntie Angela: take my advice – or don’t. Just be happy.

  Acknowledgments

  Massive thanks to Nia - the best editor in the world - to Amanda, and to everyone else at Boldwood Books. You are all amazing.

  Big thanks to everyone who reads and reviews my books. I really hope you enjoy this one too. Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews, messages and photos you send. It really means so much to me.

  I couldn’t do any of this without my family - my mum and dad, especially my mum, Kim, who I owe so much to. Thanks to Joey, for all of the super important writer meetings - I hope I help you as much as you help me. Thanks to James, my tech nerd, for knowing everything I don’t and patiently making it all happen. Thanks to Aud - you are beyond wonderful and I wouldn’t be who I am without you.

  Finally, thanks so much to my husband, Joe. I can’t believe I finally get to call you that, especially after this year. Sneaky lockdown marrying you is the best thing I ever did. You’ve kept me going (and writing) through such a strange and difficult time. There’s no one I’d rather be stuck indoors with. I love you.

  More from Portia MacIntosh

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  Chapter One

  My Wedding Day

  Your wedding day is the start of a life-long journey, and, like any other journey, it requires a lot of planning.

  First, and most importantly, you need to know where you’re going and how you’re going to get there. Are you on a one-track path to growing old together or are you planning on making stops at pets, babies or house moves?

  On a real trip you’re going to want insurance, but on the life-long journey of marriage, assurance is what you need. Are you doing this with the right person? Will they stand by you for better, for worse? For richer, for poorer? In sickness and in health?

  When your plans are all in place and it’s time to set off on this wonderful, wild adventure, the only thing left to do is pack – but pack light.

  Unfortunately, on this non-stop flight to a happy ever after, ex-boyfriends will not fit in the overhead storage, no matter how much you dissected the relationship. All baggage must be destroyed before boarding – you absolutely cannot bring your baggage into a marriage.

  Before you tie the knot, customs will confiscate any and all contraband still on your person, not limited to, but including flirtatious WhatsApp threads and other miscellaneous weaponry.

  I’m travelling light today. All I have with me is my something old (a necklace my grandma left me in her will), my something new (the sapphire studs in my ears), and my something borrowed (a handkerchief from my mum, which I’m going to keep in the pocket of my wedding dress, because you’d better believe I had my wedding dress made with sneaky pockets). My something blue is (apparently) my best friend, Ali, who is currently lying on the chaise longue at the bottom of my bed in my hotel room.

  ‘Oh, Lila,’ she says dramatically. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

  I smile at myself in the mirror. Most best friends are supportive, attentive maids of honour. Ali is showing me her love and support by constantly questioning whether or not this is the right thing to do. I wouldn’t have her any other way though.

  ‘I’m pretty sure,’ I tell her. ‘I made sure I was sure before I spent thousands of pounds on a wedding and a honeymoon.’

  ‘Well, yeah, I figured,’ she replies. ‘But… I don’t know, I don’t think I thought you’d go through with it.’

  I laugh.

  ‘And yet here we are,’ I say, smiling at her.

  ‘Daniel is… you know, he’s fine,’ she says.

  ‘Fine,’ I repeat back to her. Just what a bride wants to hear on her wedding day.

  ‘Yeah, he’s fine… he’s maybe just fine though?’

  My best friend hasn’t waited until my wedding day to say this, she’s been telling me for years that Daniel was just too boring to settle down with. I think this is a ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ type conversation, not that the latter sounds remotely like something Ali would do.

  ‘I know you think he’s boring,’ I tell her. ‘But, maybe “boring guys” are the ones you settle down with? Take that playboy banker you met last weekend – you wouldn’t marry him, would you?’

  ‘Well, someone clearly did,’ she points out. ‘There was a wedding ring in his hotel bathroom.’

  ‘Was?’ I dare to ask.

  ‘Yeah, I flushed it down the lav,’ she says casually. ‘I really don’t appreciate being lied to.’

  Ali is a real force to be reckoned with.

  ‘I know you’re only being semi-serious with the whole talking me out of getting married thing,’ I start. ‘But honestly, I’ve thought this through. I love him, we’re happy together – OK, things might not be wild, but I know in my heart that it’s time to put sexy playboy bankers behind me.’

  ‘Well, that’s what I do with them,’ Ali says with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

  I know that Ali just wants me to be happy, but I did consider all of this before agreeing to marry my fiancé, Daniel Tyler, and when I say I considered it before agreeing, I mean I literally asked him for a moment, before I gave him my answer. The reason for this is because marriage is something I take seriously. My parents, both sixty-five years of age, have been married since they were nineteen. I might be thirty-one, but I want to marry once, and for life. I had a blast in my twenties, Daniel and I moved in together when I was twenty-nine and now, comfortably accepting of the fact I am in my thirties, I finally feel ready to tie the knot.

  When some women say they have been planning their wedding for years, what they really mean is they’ve been dressing up in net curtains as kids and trolling Pinterest for flower arrangements as adults. Well, I really have been planning weddings for years… sort of. Not my own wedding and I’m certainly not a wedding planner.

  I’m a rom-com author and although the weddings I work with may be fictional, I haven’t just planned a lot of them – I’ve ruined a lot of them too. I’ve written ten books now, so it’s pretty safe to say I’ve considered every pos
sible triumph, every little hiccup and every epic fail my romantic yet devious mind can conjure up.

  So, yes, while I have researched flowers, cakes and dresses, and tweaked them accordingly (pockets! Honestly, this is going to be a game changer), I don’t just know what this wedding needs, I know what it doesn’t need too. Obsessing over what flavour frosting to have is rather silly – that’s just the icing on the cake. What you should be worrying about are the things that are out of your control.

  I have essentially reverse-engineered every single wedding I’ve ever written, to make sure that my real wedding is perfect. It’s kind of a genius move.

  I know for a fact that Daniel’s Auntie Susan and his Auntie Carole hate each other – and I mean hate each other. I also know that Ali would flip out if she knew that Alex, her ex-boyfriend, had been invited to the wedding. But thanks to my choice of venue – and, more specifically, room – they’ll probably never see each other. I know that neither of his aunties likes to dance and I’ve put them at opposite ends of the room, with multiple pillars blocking their view of each other. The same strategy will work for Ali and Alex, although I have had to get a little creative with some balloons to keep him out of her sight. So, he might not have the best view of the speeches, but he’d thank me if he knew it was saving him from having to pick pieces of his jaw out of his salmon. And then it’s only a matter of time. Once Ali has had enough to drink, and my girl drinks, she won’t even recognise him – hell, she’ll probably try and flirt with him.

  There’s a knock on the hotel door. I glance over at Ali, who looks back at me expectantly.

  ‘Erm, can you open it?’ I ask her.

  She pulls a face, like a lazy teenager who doesn’t want to tidy their room. You’d never know she was a hugely successful literary agent (although not mine, I hasten to add).