Marrying Mr Valentine

by Laura Barnard

  I snort a laugh. My kinda guy.

  ‘I really wouldn’t have put you two together,’ I blurt out before thinking.

  Oops, that didn’t sound good. I can only blame the medication withdrawal. It's forcing me to be honest. I don’t have the time or energy for too much bullshit right now. Not that I can tell him that.

  He snorts. ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘Sorry, just... how did you even meet?’ I ask, trying to move the conversation to something happier.

  I’d imagine they run in completely different circles. Plus, the more I talk to him, the calmer my body is feeling, as if a serene mist is ascending over my body. It’s probably having company and not just being stuck inside my own head, but regardless I don’t want it to stop.

  He smiles sadly, as if replaying the memory in his head.

  ‘In a bar. She was on a hen do, dressed up ridiculously with a pink feather boa, and she asked if she could kiss me to win a dare.’ He smiles, as if he remembers her being adorable. I have no idea how Clara could ever be seen as adorable. The woman doesn’t eat cake for Christ’s sake. ‘She was a lot more chilled out then.’ I bet. The thought of her wearing a jokey feather boa is enough to give me a stroke.

  ‘So, what’s changed?’ I can’t help but ask sarcastically, but come on, that isn’t the woman I’ve met.

  He shrugs and sighs heavily. ‘I don’t know. She’s taken on more responsibility at her dad’s company.’

  I call bullshit. More responsibility doesn’t mean you turn into a bitch. She’s clearly always been one, and he’s been too blinded by her vagina and tits to care.

  ‘It’s another reason why I definitely don’t want to work there,’ he elaborates, looking out of the window at the blustery day. ‘It’s not worth the stress.’

  ‘And being a teacher is stress free?’ I laugh hysterically. Jesus, I sound nuts. Maybe I am nuts? Maybe without the medication I’m a real regular fruit loop who shouldn’t be allowed around sharp objects.

  He joins me in a chuckle, thankfully not seeming to notice my hysteria. ‘No, but it’s different. You know that if you touch one student, it’s all worth it.’

  ‘You know you shouldn’t touch students, right?’ I joke. God, I’m hilarious. Maybe these meds have been holding me back from reaching my full potential as a stand-up comedian.

  He shoves me playfully with his shoulder. I almost fall face first into the plate of cake, he’s that strong.

  ‘Hey! Remember your strength, Lenny!’ I shout, creasing over in laughter.

  ‘Lenny?’ He frowns, his eyes narrowed at me in bewilderment.

  I nod, shocked he’s taking so long to get it. ‘From of Mice and Men.’

  ‘Oh... the book,’ he finally nods.

  ‘Jeez, you can tell you don’t teach English.’

  His eyebrows narrow as if suddenly realising something. ‘Wait, wasn’t he retarded?’

  ‘No one says retarded anymore, idiot. You must have missed the PC talk at work. He had... difficulties, yeah.’

  He lowers his chin. ‘And you’re comparing me to him? Saying I’m all muscle and no brain?’

  I snort a laugh. ‘No, it was just a joke. But now you mention it...’ I burst out laughing again. All of this laughing is calming my erratic heart.

  ‘Do you always insult your clients like this?’ he asks with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Just the ones I like.’ I wink. Jesus, why the hell did I just wink? Am I flirting with him? Openly flirting with him while he picks out his wedding cake? What the hell is wrong with me!

  He stares at me as if trying to figure me out. I break away from his intense gaze, scared if he keeps looking he’ll be able to see all my secrets.

  ‘Anyway, cake. What flavours were you thinking?’

  He shrugs, leaning on the bar. ‘I don’t know. Cake flavour.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘Jesus. This is going to be harder than I thought.’

  ‘That’s what she said!’ he jokes.

  I double over laughing. God, why are we both in such silly moods? Either way, it's distracting me from my panicky thoughts.

  ‘Okay, let me be professional.’

  He stands up straight and nods, a smile still on his lips.

  ‘Let’s start with a basic vanilla sponge with vanilla icing and jam.’

  I pick it up on its tissue, my hand shaking so badly I’m sure he’ll notice, and hand it to him.

  ‘Are you not going to feed it to me?’ he asks, opening his mouth in a big 'O' shape. ‘Or are you too hungover?’

  ‘Hungover?’ I snort. ‘What are you talking about?’

  He points to my hand. ‘You’re shaking. Big night out, was it?’

  I can feel my cheeks reddening. Damn these withdrawal symptoms. A normal client, not as laid back as Hartley, wouldn’t find it so funny.

  ‘I didn’t go out,’ I insist.

  ‘Okay, if you say so.’ He rolls his eyes jokingly. ‘So, feed it to me.’ He pops his mouth open again.

  ‘No. This cake isn’t grapes and we aren’t in ancient Rome.’

  ‘Such a shame.’ He takes the cake and wolfs it down in one go. The animal. Is it wrong that I find it sexual? Of course it is Nadine. The guy’s getting married.

  ‘Like?’ I ask, my pen hovered over my review sheet on my clipboard.

  ‘Yeah, it’s nice,’ he nods indifferently. ‘But what else you got?’

  I immediately strike that out. A man can’t have a cake he finds ‘nice’ on his wedding day. It needs to be spectacular.

  ‘Okay, we have a fruit cake next.’ I hand it over to him.

  He breaks it in half. ‘Try it with me? I can’t bear the way you look at me with anticipation while I chew. It’s weird.’

  I bark a laugh, but you don’t have to ask me twice. I take the offered-out bit of fruit cake and eat it. Mmm, I love fruit cake. I just need a cup of tea with it.

  ‘So?’ I ask eagerly, some fruit still in my mouth.

  He shrugs. ‘Yeah, I mean, it tastes like fruit cake.’

  I sigh. ‘Don’t you have a flavour in mind when you think of your wedding?’

  He sighs. ‘Nope. Do people actually think things like that?’

  ‘Of course.’ I insist. ‘For some men it’s the only thing they want input in.’

  ‘That’s bloody sad. You must deal with a lot of fatties.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Okay, what would your wedding cake be?’

  He’s challenging the wrong broad. This bitch has had her dream wedding uploaded to Pinterest since it was available online.

  ‘Easy, lemon drizzle.’

  ‘Lemon drizzle?’ he repeats in barely concealed horror.

  What the hell is wrong with lemon drizzle? I’ll show him. I grab the sample and stuff it into his mouth, the icing squished around his lips.

  ‘See, nice right?’ I grin, barely able to stop myself from breaking out into belly laughs at the shock on his face.

  He chews, because he has no choice. I really did shove it in there. What’s come over me? I need my Prozac, that’s what.

  ‘Wow, someone really likes lemon cake,’ he says, still with a mouthful.

  ‘Sorry,’ I grimace. ‘I’m... not really feeling myself today.’ I fiddle with my clipboard, so I don’t have to look him in the eye. ‘So, look, do you like the cake? Or do you just want to blow off the whole wedding?'

  He frowns, clearly taken aback. I really shouldn’t have come into work today. This was a mistake.

  ‘Why do you ask?’ he says calmly. Too calmly. It fucks me off.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Oh, fuck it. I might as well be honest. ‘I guess you don’t seem very happy. Most guys I meet that are about to get married look excited, not terrified whenever I mention it.’

  He swallows down the last of the cake. ‘Yeah, well, I bet most of those men chose to get married themselves.’

  I swallow hard, confused. What does he mean, chose to get married themselves?

  ‘Well you asked her, didn’t you? That’s as much cho
osing as I can think of.’

  He smiles sadly at me. ‘She proposed to me.’

  ‘No way!’ I can’t help but giggle. That’s Clara all over. Not relying on a man for anything.

  He shoves my shoulder with his. ‘It’s not that funny!’

  ‘Sorry, but just imagining her taking it into her own hands gives me the giggles.’ I snort another laugh. Especially because he’s such a big strong man.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.’ He has the slightest hint of a blush on the top of his cheeks.

  ‘Sorry. She is a force to be reckoned with. But you still didn’t have to say yes.’

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t I? She asked me in front of everyone at her 30th birthday party. I doubt that would have gone down well.’

  The girl’s a psycho.

  ‘Ah.’ I suppose I can see how that would have made it that more awkward.

  ‘It was all okay. I had it under control. We weren’t planning on getting married for at least two years. I had time to figure out how to get out of it.’

  ‘And then I called,’ I say, filling in the blanks.

  ‘Yep,’ he nods. ‘And all of a sudden I’m getting married in just over a month.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Yep, fuck indeed.’

  But he can’t blame it all on me. ‘I’m sorry that me calling has put you in this situation, but...’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Well you can’t marry someone if you don’t love them.’

  ‘I do love her,’ he says defensively. ‘I just... I guess I love her like I would a best friend. I don’t get those squirms in my stomach when I look at her anymore. It’s like we’ve outgrown each other.’ His eyes find mine.

  God, he’s beautiful. I can see why she’d be fooled into thinking he was in love with her if he’s giving her looks like this.

  ‘I think you really need to think it through. This is a big deal.’

  ‘I know,’ he says, his face pained. ‘I just always imagined when I married someone I’d be totally, ridiculously, over the top in love with them. Not just... going with the flow.’

  ‘You have to tell her.’

  He closes his eyes tight. ‘But I’ll break her heart.’ He opens them again, as if begging for me to understand. ‘I’m not a heartless bastard. I don’t want to humiliate her like this. Her family have already told half of England.’

  I smile sadly back at him. It does sound tough, and I can understand what kind of pressure he’s under. Hugh has already warned me that we can’t fuck up this wedding and here I am telling him to walk away.

  ‘I really shouldn’t be encouraging you to do this anyway. I’m just here to plan your wedding.’

  ‘And sort the costumes for my students,’ he adds with a chuckle.

  I laugh too. ‘Yeah, I got talked into that. Good luck getting out of that engagement.’

  He locks eyes with me, suddenly appearing serious. ‘What if you were happy enough before and then something comes along to make you realise happy enough is not as happy as you want to be?’

  Why is he looking at me so intensely? My pulse starts racing under the scrutiny of his gaze. Is he... no, he can’t be talking about me, right?

  He shakes his head, as if realising he just spilled his guts.

  ‘Sorry for just sprouting all of that. It must just be pre-wedding nerves. You won’t repeat it, will you?’

  I force a smile. ‘Of course not. Your secret's safe with me.’

  Chapter Eight

  Thursday 18th January

  I can’t do it. I can’t reduce my medication. Last night I was back to two tablets and the thought of only having one tablet tonight already has me twitching in anxiety. Why had I ever thought it would be easy? I was stupid to think I could attempt it before Lydia’s wedding this weekend. Hopefully I’ll be less of a basket case by then.

  So maybe it turns out I’m not supposed to have another baby. Maybe Belle is my one and only. In a weird way that’s kind of okay with me.

  The thought of going through it all again just for the same fate to be repeated has my heart already detaching and attempting escape for fear of breaking again. I don’t think I’d survive it a second time. At least now I can work on accepting a child-free future.

  I’m barely in work when the phone starts calling, Clara’s number flashing up at me. I knew giving her my mobile number was a mistake.

  ‘Hi, Clara,’ I say through gritted teeth.

  ‘Hi,’ she says brusquely. ‘So, I’ve been thinking that I want ice sculptures.’

  Jesus.

  ‘Um, okay.’ My voice comes out flat and uninterested. I shake my head, remembering to be professional. ‘Sure, I know a contact. What kind of sculpture were you looking for?’

  ‘I was thinking life-size sculptures of me and Hartley kissing. What do you think?’

  That you’re a crazy bitch who wouldn’t know taste if it hit you in the face.

  ‘Um... okay. I can get a quote for that.’

  ‘Oh, money is no issue,’ she says dismissively.

  Of course, it isn’t, not for Princess Clara.

  ‘Okay. I’ll call you back later then.’

  Money is no issue. God, I’m used to dealing with brides on tight budgets. Not spoilt bitches like her. She so doesn’t deserve Hartley. Whoa, where did that come from? I need to stop thinking about this soon to be married man.

  I call up my supplier, Jenny, and tell her about Clara’s idea.

  ‘Classy,’ she deadpans. ‘So, we’re looking at two grand, easy.’

  ‘That’s fine. She said money is no issue.’ I eye roll as if she can see me.

  ‘Well, isn’t that nice for her,’ she snorts. ‘In that case, tell her three grand.’

  I burst out laughing. ‘Okay, I will.’ The cocky cow deserves it.

  She chuckles. ‘If she agrees I owe you a night out!’

  I’m barely off the phone when it starts buzzing again. I look. It's Clara. Of course, it is. There I was thinking my sister was the biggest Bridezilla I’ve come across.

  ‘Hi, Clara. I just got off the phone with the ice sculptor.’

  ‘Never mind that,’ she snaps. ‘Daddy wants to know if you can serve caviar?’

  I grit my teeth to stop myself from growling. I hate being interrupted. My mum has always said, manners cost nothing. ‘We can get that in for you, yes.’

  ‘Fabulous. Also, I’m thinking about swans.’

  I hold my now throbbing temples. ‘Swans?’ I repeat in disbelief.

  ‘Yes. Wouldn’t it be amazing to have a couple of swans wandering around? They’re such majestic animals, don’t you think?’

  I wouldn’t. I hate birds. Their beaks freak me out.

  ‘Well, I’d have to check and see if we need any kind of licence to have them on site first.’ Hopefully this will deter her.

  ‘Nadine, darling, don’t bore me with the details. Just let me know when you know, a simple yes or no.’

  Rude bitch. Don’t tell her to go fuck herself. Don’t tell her to go fuck herself.

  ‘Okay, fine,’ I force through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll call you back.’

  ‘Oh and is there any chance you could look into plastic surgery for one of my bridesmaids?’

  ‘Sorry?’ I must have misheard her. She wouldn’t have just asked me about plastic surgery, right? Especially with less than a month until the wedding.

  ‘My bridesmaid,’ she explains, ‘my dear friend, Jessica, has a huge nose, and she’s been thinking about getting it fixed. I’ve offered to pay as long as it would heal before the wedding. We don’t want that honker getting in the way of the photos!’ She shrills a laugh.

  I cannot believe this bitch.

  ‘No. I’m afraid I don’t look into cosmetic surgery,’ I state firmly. ‘That’s gonna have to be you.’

  ‘Okay. Speak soon. Ciao.'

  Jesus, that woman is awful. Imagine offering to pay for your friend’s surgery! What a heartless cow. I’ve barely open
ed my spreadsheet for suppliers when the phone’s ringing again. This fucking woman!

  ‘Hello?’ I answer aggressively.

  ‘Nadine, now I’m worried about the weather. Is there any way you can cover the entire outside area so if it rains no one will notice?’

  Oh, for fuck's sake. Now this bitch wants me to do an anti-rain dance.

  ‘Clara, you need to calm down.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ she asks, affronted.

  Oops. I’m not used to telling my clients to calm down, but it just slipped out naturally. I can’t help but be passive aggressive with her.

  ‘What I mean is that regardless of the weather, you’ll have a fantastic day,’ I say brightly, attempting to salvage the situation.

  ‘Well that’s not what I asked is it?’ she barks. ‘I might just have to calm down and go somewhere else for my wedding.’

  Oh crap. If I thought she was a pain before, pissed off Clara scares the shit out of me.

  ‘That’s not what I -’ But it’s too late. She’s hung up on me. Great, just great.

  The one client I’m not to upset, and I’ve just fucked her off royally. Fucking fantastic.

  Friday 19th January

  As I drag myself into the school, I have to remind myself why I’m even doing this. It’s really not helping me stop thinking about Hartley and how he’s mental to be marrying Clara. If anything, forcing myself to spend time with him is making me like him.

  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t fancy the guy. Okay, that’s a total lie. I fancy the pants off him. But that’s all it is—he’s good looking and fun to be around. But I’m not in love with the man or anything crazy like that.

  It’s not like I can back out of organising their wedding now. Especially after upsetting Clara. Hugh would kill me. If only their wedding would fall after he’d paid his uncle back, he wouldn’t be so neurotic about it.

  ‘Hi, Nadine,’ Anna says as soon as I’m through the door, bounding over to me. ‘I was hoping you’d be in today.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ I ask, intrigued. She’s a lot more chipper than when I last saw her. Maybe she’s told her parents and they’ve actually been really understanding.

  ‘Yeah, I was wondering something.’ She tucks a bit of blonde hair behind her ear, her eyes finding the floor before looking back at me with her eyebrows squished together, suddenly appearing shy. ‘Would you... I mean, how would you feel about...’