I look back at him to check if he’s being serious. He seems like he’s genuinely expecting an answer.
‘Er...no.’
He gives a lopsided smile. ‘I knew there was a reason I chose you.’
I scoff. Chose me? I’m not some bloody prize to be selected.
‘We chose each other. Don’t make out I’m the lucky girl you selected, and you’re God’s gift to women.’
‘Oooh!’ he jokes with a wicked grin. ‘Someone’s really not a morning person.’
I take a deep breath and try to collect myself. Mustn’t be a bitch. He might not marry you.
‘I’m fine. I’ll get a notepad.’
I quickly splash my face with water, apply some deodorant and pinch my cheeks. That’ll have to do. I’m far too hungover to bother with makeup.
‘Sorry about the no makeup,’ I apologise as I walk back out with a notepad. ‘But I suppose you’ll have to get used to it.’
He snorts a laugh. ‘Luckily for me you’re not a monster.’
I roll my eyes with a smile. ‘You say the sweetest things.’
Then I realise. I’m assuming we’re going to live with each other as man and wife. Has he thought about that?
‘Um...we haven’t even talked about where we’re going to live.’
‘Yeah,’ he nods. ‘I suppose we should talk about that.’ He raises his eyebrows comically. ‘Your place or mine?’
I look around my beloved flat. It’s taken me years to get it looking just how I like it.
‘Well...I do love my place...’
He scrunches up his face in distaste. ‘Bit girlie though, isn’t it?’
I suppose my taste is a bit girlie, but I haven’t had to please anyone but me.
‘With your stuff in it, it’d look more masculine.’
‘Don’t you like my place?’ he asks, putting on puppy dog eyes. ‘I mean it’s brand new, top of the range. The places are going for half a million.’
Ugh, god. He’s all about the money.
‘Yeah, but...it’s not got much character, has it?’
‘What do you mean?’
How do I put it politely?
‘I mean every flat is exactly the same. I prefer to make it personalised. You should have seen this place when I first bought it.’
He chews on his lip, looking around. ‘It’s not big enough though, is it?’
‘Big enough for what? There’s only two of us. Anyway, it’s cosy.’
‘Cosy’s the word,’ he smirks. ‘And that’s two adults before we start thinking about a family.’
‘Woah, woah, woah! Who said we’re having a family straight away?’
Has he been planning our future without consulting me?
‘Well, not straight away, but you said yourself you need to get a move on.’
I splutter out a laugh. The cheeky fucker!
‘Yeah, but I want to get to know you a bit better first! Jesus, is it not enough I’m marrying you, now you want me popping sprogs out the minute we’re across the threshold?’
He stifles a laugh. ‘No, of course not. I’m just saying would it not make sense for us to both sell up and buy a house together that will do us for the next couple of years?’
I suppose when he puts it rationally like that it does sound like a good idea.
‘Yeah, you’re right.’ I look around at my beautiful flat. ‘I’m just gonna miss this place.’
‘I’ll miss mine, too,’ he reminds me softly, ‘but we’ll get something we both love.’
I think of his ultra-modern flat and my chintzy shabby chic style. Hmm, I can already see a big compromise to be made there.
‘Anyway, back to the wedding,’ he says, pointing at the notepad.
‘Right.’
‘First thing we should do is write a guest list.’
‘Okay,’ I nod. ‘Let’s do this.’
Three hours later and our list is complete. We’ve got eighty-two people, which we’re both happy with. Any more than that and it’ll be too big. We’ve both agreed we want to keep it as intimate as possible. Apart from that, we’re pretty clueless. We’re not sure what kind of venue we want, what kind of colours or even what kind of cake.
In the end, we agreed to do a Christmas theme. It should be easy, as most places will be decorated up for it anyway. It helps that I love this time of year. God, whenever I think that I’m getting married I lose my breath. This is really happening. My friends are right. This is insane.
‘I think we should call in re-enforcements,’ I announce, my head whirling with everything we have to do.
‘Do you mean our...mothers?’ he gulps comically.
I grimace. ‘I think it’s a bit too soon for them. They’re probably still a bit angry. I was thinking more Nadine. Now that’s a girl that’s got her entire future wedding on Pinterest.’
He smiles fleetingly. ‘Okay, sounds great. But one thing we haven’t talked about is budget.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yep. Most of my money is tied up in property, and if I’m honest I don’t want to ask my Mother.’
God, I’d rather die than ask her.
‘Yeah, I know the father of the bride traditionally pays, but we’d have to find him first.’ I have a little chuckle to myself at my hilarious joke.
He frowns, his eyes darting helplessly from side to side. ‘Your Mum doesn’t know who he is?’
God, he thinks my Mum was a whore.
‘Yes!’ I shriek. ‘Of course she knows who he is. But he got up and left when I was four years old.’
‘Why did he leave?’
‘Beats me,’ I shrug. ‘Said he was going out for a pint of milk apparently and just never came back.’
His face contorts. ‘Shit. Did you check he wasn’t hit by a car or something?’
I nod, sick of hearing the same questions I’ve heard all my life. ‘She called all the hospitals. Apparently, he just went. It’s no big deal. I don’t remember him.’
‘I’m sorry anyway.’ He smiles sincerely.
‘Either way, my Mum doesn’t have a pot to piss in. She’s not got any money to offer, and I’d hate to have to ask her. But I have about four grand in savings.’
‘Cool. I have three, so together that’s seven. That can do a wedding, right?’
‘I bloody hope so.’
‘Seven grand?’ Nadine repeats, her face twisted in horror. ‘You want me to plan an entire wedding for seven measly grand? And we have less than a month to plan it. It’s official. You’ve lost your minds.’
‘Come on,’ Hugh pleads, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘Seven grand must get us something.’
‘It’s going to be very hard,’ she argues sternly. ‘Let’s see.’ She gets some papers out of her large handbag. ‘When you called and said you have eighty-two guests I shortlisted venues that are still available and can cater to that number. Hmm.’ She turns the piece of paper over and starts scrawling.
‘Okay, so let’s say a grand for the dress,’ she writes down.
‘Woah,’ Hugh and I both say at the same time.
‘A grand for a dress?’ he repeats in shock. ‘That’s fucking ridiculous.’
She glares at him before turning to me. ‘Florence, this is going to be the most important day of your life. Don’t you want to look amazing?’
I shrug. ‘Yeah, but surely I can look amazing in a dress for a couple of hundred.’
She raises her eyes but begrudgingly writes down £500 for the dress. ‘I think you’ll change your mind, but okay, whatever. Let’s put down £250 for the men’s suits.’
‘Woah!’ Hugh jumps in. ‘My suit alone will be that much.’
‘Why don’t you ask the men to get their own suits?’ I ask. ‘I was thinking of asking the bridesmaids to do it as a wedding present to cut costs.’
Nadine nods. ‘That won’t be a problem with us.’
‘But...men are different,’ he moans, shifting uncomfortably. ‘I don’t want to look like a poor bastard.’
<
br /> ‘Right,’ Nadine continues, ignoring him. ‘Officiants are normally around £500 and photography you can get for around a grand. Do you guys want a DJ or a band?’
‘Ooh, I’d love a band,’ Hugh says eagerly, his face lit up like a kid at Christmas. ‘Something really cool.’ He turns to me. ‘That okay with you?’
‘Yep,’ I nod. So far so easy.
‘Okay,’ Nadine scribbles, ‘£1,500 for a band. Let’s see—rings will be £500 minimum and even if you have the bare minimum flowers you’re talking £500.’
‘£500 for flowers?’ I shriek. ‘I don’t even particularly like flowers!’
‘Babe, it’s a wedding,’ she tries to reason as if I’m a child in her class. ‘You need flowers.’ She looks back down at her list. ‘Invitations you’re looking at about £250.’
‘Fuck off!’ I shout, several people in the coffee shop turning around to stare at me.
‘Darling,’ Hugh grins, ‘I didn’t realise you were such a potty mouth.’ He chuckles uncontrollably, clutching his sides in agony.
‘Sorry, but £250 for a bit of paper. That’s ridiculous!’ I whisper.
‘I have to agree,’ he nods, now serious again. ‘Can’t we just send out an email or something?’
Seems a good idea to me.
‘An email?’ Nadine repeats, her brows snapped together. ‘Are you serious? You’re going to send out an e-invite for your bloody wedding?’
‘Why not,’ I shrug. ‘If it saves us wasting that money.’
She sighs as if we’re a massive inconvenience. Err, it is our wedding.
‘Okay. But we still have transport, cake, hair, and makeup to sort out.’
‘My buddies have some nice cars. I’m sure they can sort us out,’ Hugh replies, already getting his phone out to text someone.
‘And my Mum can make the cake. She’s actually good at it. And obviously, I’ll just do my own hair and makeup.’
She stares at me for a long time. So long in fact, that I wonder if I should say something.
‘Riiiiiiight. So, you’re sending e-invites, and you’re doing your own hair and makeup.’ She scribbles on her sheet. ‘So that leaves...£2,250 for the wedding reception.’
Shit. Hugh looks at me with raised eyebrows. That doesn’t sound like enough.
She goes through her papers, throwing sheet after sheet down on the table until she stares at one for a long time, a permanent line appearing between her eyebrows. She hands it over.
‘I actually put this one in for a joke. But it seems it’s the only one you can afford.’
I look down at the pub on the sheet. It looks old and grotty.
She grimaces, but attempts to force a smile. ‘Okay, so....good luck.’
Chapter Six
Monday 5th December
Hugh pulls into the car park—the parking lines so faded you can’t make them out. I look up at the grotty pub. I can’t believe I’m going to have to get married in this shit hole. I suppose there’s nothing actually wrong with it, apart from the dirty windows and peeling paint. I just never imagined having my wedding reception in a pub. Especially one called The Duck and Goose. But I suppose I never imagined getting married to a near stranger either.
‘So...I’m guessing when you dreamt of your wedding you didn’t imagine a pub?’ he asks good-humouredly.
How is he able to read my mind? I’ve dated people for months, and they’ve never been this in tune with me.
‘Not exactly,’ I admit, forcing a smile. ‘But if this is all we can afford then we need to make the best of it.’
‘That’s my girl,’ he grins, opening his door.
I don’t know why, but it feels weird him saying that. Am I even his girl yet? If this were a normal date, I wouldn’t dare call him my boyfriend, let alone fiancée. The thing that’s niggling at me more than anything is that we haven’t had sex yet. Haven’t done anything like that in fact.
We haven’t actually kissed passionately since the first night we met. I know they say marriage is about a lot more than sex, but what if we’re not sexually compatible? What if he has a weird shaped dick? Or a tiny dick. God, I really need to investigate before I say I do.
My door opens, breaking me from my worries. I absolutely love how he always opens the door for me. His mother might be a monster, but at least she raised him right.
‘M’lady,’ he jokes, holding out his hand.
I take it. ‘Why, thank you, good sir.’
We walk towards the front door. It really hasn’t got kerb appeal. The flowerpots have half-dead flowers in there, and the brickwork has been patched up poorly in areas.
A big burly man covered in tattoos opens the door before we have a chance to knock.
‘Hi there!’ he booms in a loud, confident voice. ‘I assume you’re the love birds looking to get married here?’
‘Possibly,’ I say quickly, eager not to confirm anything.
‘Well, quick, come in from the cold.’
At least he’s friendly. We hurry into the dark, dim pub. I shiver; if it’s possible, it’s actually colder in here. I look around as the mildew smell creeps up my nostrils. There’s nothing particularly wrong with it. There’s a long bar in the middle with tables darted around and a small extension out the back. It’s just that it’s a pub. No sweeping staircase or grand marble. Okay, maybe I have dreamt of my wedding before. I guess I always imagined pure luxury, not a place that does two-for-one shots.
A woman with her blonde hair in curlers comes in. ‘Hi, loves! Would you like a cuppa?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Hugh and I both say at the same time.
Okay, focus on the positives. They’re lovely people.
We sit down, and Hugh starts discussing all the finer details. I can’t help but retreat into my own head. I’m starting to think we should wait longer and do this properly. I don’t want to look back at my wedding album and regret not having done it right.
On the way out Hugh takes my hand. ‘I know you hate it.’
‘I don’t hate it,’ I say quickly. I don’t want him to think I’m a spoilt brat. ‘I just don’t love it.’
He smiles sadly. ‘I know. We do have other options, you know?’
‘Really?’ I can’t help but ask hopefully. Has he been holding out on me?
He grimaces. ‘My mother.’
Tuesday 6th December
So, that’s how I find myself sat across from her in the posh manor house she arranged to meet us at the next day.
‘Can I take your order?’ a waiter asks, saving me from the awkward silence.
‘Yes,’ she says without a smile. ‘We’ll have a bottle of prosecco.’
A woman after my own heart. Maybe we can be friends.
‘And...’ she scans down the menu. ‘Three La Truite’s.’
Hugh rolls his eyes. This must be a regular occurrence.
I quickly scan down the menu to see that it’s a trout fillet.
‘Um...I don’t actually like fish,’ I say apologetically.
She stares at me like I just spoke in tongues. ‘Don’t tell me you’re one of those vegans?’ she asks, clear disgust in my voice.
I shake my head, trying to contain a giggle. ‘No. I just don’t like fish.’
‘I didn’t know that about you,’ Hugh muses, taking my hand under the table. ‘Still so much to learn.’
His mum snorts. ‘Well, that’s what happens darling when you decide to marry someone after five minutes.’
‘Mother,’ he warns, glaring at her. ‘You promised you’d play nice.’
‘And I am, darling!’ she says, playing innocent. ‘In fact, I want to know more about you, Florence. So, let’s see, we already know that your mother’s a lesbian and that you’re marrying my son, but apart from that I have nothing.’
I chance a look at Hugh. He smiles back apologetically, but I see him lean in, eager to see what I’m going to say.
‘Um...I’m a freelance makeup artist.’
‘Ah, so
you’re used to weddings, then, I take it,’ she says with a smug smile.
‘Actually, I don’t do weddings. I work more on movies sets and with celebrities. In fact, I’ve just finished working with Estee Lauder for their latest campaign.’
Her mouth pops open ever so slightly. That shut her up.
‘That’s why I’ve given myself the month of December off. So I can relax and get ready for Christmas.’
‘Oh, I see. You’ve done well for yourself.’
I can’t believe she’s giving me a compliment.
‘Considering you were raised by a single mother.’
There we go. That’s more like it. I look to Hugh. Has he told her my Dad left or is she just assuming? Why does she make that sound like a bad thing anyway? It’s not her fault my Dad left.
‘You can’t have had much money growing up.’ She re-arranges her features, attempting to look concerned, but I can still see she has a separate agenda.
I think back to my Mum working two jobs, spending her spare time cutting coupons out of our neighbour’s magazines.
‘Things were tight, but my Mum worked hard. Made sure I never went without.’
That’s a total lie. I went without a lot. So did she. I can remember her having cereal for dinner because she could only afford to feed me properly, but I don’t want her knowing that. It would sound like I’m slagging her off when she’s the best mum in the world.
‘She must be very proud of you.’
Wow, a compliment. It sounds genuine. I don’t quite know how to take that. Maybe she is trying to be nice. Maybe this is her…trying.
‘And on the subject of money...’ she shuffles around in her bag and removes some papers, ‘I spoke to the family solicitor and got this written up.’
She goes to hand it to me, but Hugh snatches it off her. ‘What the hell is this?’ he snaps, his ears growing red with fury.
‘What is it?’ I whisper, attempting to look at it.
‘Don’t overreact, darling,’ she says to Hugh. She turns to me. ‘It’s just a little chat about protecting my son.’
‘Mum,’ he growls, dropping the paper to the table. ‘This is out of order.’
I crane my neck to see the title. ‘Prenuptial Agreement.’
Adventurous Proposal (Standalone) (One Month Til I Do Book 1) Page 4
