Willow's Wedding Vows: a laugh out loud romantic comedy with a twist!

by Debbie Viggiano

  Tonight. You and me. I have chocolate body paint. Let’s get saucy!

  He’d not replied.

  Lick and tease! We’ll work off those chocolate calories!

  Charlie had hit the trash icon.

  Sorry, sweetie. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just miss you so much. I can’t stop thinking about us together. I’ve never had this kind of connection before.

  Charlie had replied to this last text somewhat curtly.

  The connection is now a disconnection.

  And then he’d blocked Kev’s number.

  The only woman Charlie wanted was the one who’d been by his side all along. He’d told Ben of his plans to propose to Willow and received a good reaction.

  ‘At last!’ Ben had whooped. ‘You’ve finally come to your senses. Grown up. Admittedly it’s taken a few decades for you to get there. But, as they say, better late than never. When are you going to ask her?’

  ‘This weekend,’ Charlie had smiled. ‘Saturday night, to be precise. Do you think Willow will say yes?’

  Ben had looked at his friend and been astonished to see the sudden anxiety in Charlie’s eyes.

  ‘Of course she’ll say yes,’ he’d assured. ‘Just promise me two things.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ll never behave like a dog with six dicks again.’

  ‘I promise. What’s the second thing?’

  ‘That you let me be your best man.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Charlie had said with a grin.

  ‘When are you hoping to get hitched?’

  ‘Soon.’

  ‘How soon?’

  And Charlie had grinned.

  ‘I’ve been making discreet enquiries at one of the most romantic wedding venues outside London.’

  ‘Not Goldhill Grange!’

  Charlie had smirked.

  ‘Yup. Sweeping entrance. Beautiful gardens. Lavish accommodation. Can’t go wrong.’

  ‘And when’s it going to happen?’

  ‘I was thinking of a Christmas wedding.’

  ‘Nice. Gives you just over a year to plan it.’

  ‘No, no, no, matey. I’m talking this Christmas. And they just happen to have had a cancellation for Saturday the seventh of December.’

  ‘Oh my goodness. Have you reserved the date?’

  And Charlie’s smirk had turned into a full-blown grin as he’d high-fived Ben.

  There had then followed lots of manly back clapping and congratulations, but Ben had suddenly clamped a hand to his mouth in horror. He’d protested that he couldn’t possibly continue living under Charlie and Willow’s roof when they’d be embarking on life as newlyweds. He’d then set about making alternative accommodation arrangements. But Fate had lent a hand.

  The following day Ben had surprised Charlie with the news that Anna had successfully re-mortgaged in order to buy Ben out. Consequently, Ben was now able to proceed with his newbuild purchase and a whole year sooner than anticipated. Apparently the property sales team at Ebbsfleet Valley had been in touch. The sale of the last apartment on Phase 2 had fallen through. They’d told Ben it was his if he wanted it. Ben had said he did… and as soon as possible.

  ‘So I’ll be out of your hair long before you shake off the confetti,’ Ben had laughed.

  ‘Does this mean you’ll be rekindling your romance with Mystery Woman?’ Charlie had asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ Ben had said coyly.

  Charlie had never felt happier. Sophie had gone. Kev was out of the equation. Ben would shortly be moving into his bachelor pad. Finally, Charlie’s secret stash of money remained buoyant enough to pay for Willow’s ring, a modest wedding and even a honeymoon in the Bahamas. Life was good.

  For now.

  Fifty-Three

  Monday rolled around and, as the day got underway, Charlie was delighted that it was boring as hell. As was Tuesday and Wednesday. There was no summons to Drummond’s office asking for an explanation about a tearful pregnant girl who’d rung his private line. Nor were there any messages from Kev.

  Charlie had been twitchy about Kev making a second anonymous phone call to Willow at the library. He wouldn’t have put it past her to whisper further commands that Willow dump him. Happily, the only memorable telephone call Willow had dealt with had been from an embarrassed OAP. Apparently the pensioner’s puppy had destroyed a library book about dog training.

  ‘I don’t think my dog liked it,’ the pensioner had laughed.

  On Thursday, Ben took himself off to Cornwall telling Willow and Charlie he wanted a long weekend with his parents.

  Friday was so non-eventful that Charlie could have kissed the ground.

  Come Saturday, his mood had reached an all-time high. The working week was over, and he and Willow had the house all to themselves.

  He’d caught her around the waist and pulled her back to bed for some impromptu sex. There had been no one to listen to them, no chocolate body paint had featured, and nothing out of the ordinary had occurred other than a text message from Charlie’s mother asking if he could pop round when convenient as she had some lightbulbs that needed replacing.

  ‘Shall I come with you?’ Willow asked, still languishing under the duvet.

  ‘No need,’ said Charlie, heading off to the bathroom.

  Willow lay back against the pillows and listened to her boyfriend cleaning his teeth. She hadn’t seen Charlie’s mum, Grace, for a little while. She also knew that Grace was finding widowhood lonely. Willow debated whether she should stop lazing under the cosy cover and visit Grace too. Her conscience won and she flung back the quilt.

  ‘I feel so guilty,’ she called to Charlie as she pushed her feet into her slippers. ‘I’ll come with you. Give me a moment and I’ll quickly get dressed.’

  ‘No!’ said Charlie, reappearing in the bedroom doorway. ‘Honestly, it’s very thoughtful of you, but I… have some errands to do.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ll keep you company. Perhaps we can go for coffee when you’ve finished.’

  ‘Actually’ – Charlie was now looking shifty – ‘the errands are… personal.’

  Willow regarded her boyfriend in surprise. What could be so private that Charlie didn’t want her around? Valentine’s Day wasn’t on the horizon, her birthday had been and gone, and there were still ninety-four shopping days to Christmas. Willow was perplexed.

  ‘What are you up to?’ she laughed, pulling on her dressing gown.

  ‘Something nice,’ Charlie replied as he started to dress. ‘But it’s a surprise.’

  ‘What sort of surprise?’

  ‘I told you. A nice one.’

  ‘Give me a hint,’ said Willow playfully. ‘Just a teeny-tiny clue, eh?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Charlie, looking mighty pleased with himself as he buttoned up his shirt. ‘It involves glamming up.’

  ‘For what?’ said Willow, her brows knitting together.

  Even when Charlie had taken her out on her birthday, it had been low-key. Her boyfriend didn’t take her to places that required proper dressing up. He never had. And likely never would.

  Charlie zipped up his jeans and shrugged on a jacket. Bobbing forward, he kissed Willow on the nose.

  ‘I’ll be back at about seven this evening for a quick shower and change.’

  ‘Seven?’ said Willow in astonishment. ‘But that’s hours away. You can’t be changing lightbulbs at your mum’s all day long.’

  ‘I told you. I have some other things to do.’ He gave her a mischievous wink. ‘All will be revealed later. So, when I come home, I expect you to be dressed in… oooh, I know, that little black number with the side splits that go all the way up to your armpits.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Willow in bemusement.

  She’d only worn that dress once, and that had been on a girls’ night out with Emma and Karen. She was amazed Charlie even remembered it.

  After Charlie had sauntered out of the house, whistling merrily, Willow had some breakfast. Munching her way through some toast, she decided
to give Emma a call.

  ‘Hi,’ said her bestie, a moment later. ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘Not a lot,’ Willow replied. ‘I suppose I could do some housework, but it can keep until tomorrow. Charlie’s gone out but he won’t tell me where.’

  Emma’s antenna pricked up and began quivering. What was Charlie up to?

  ‘Is it a good thing he’s gone out, or a bad thing?’ she asked carefully.

  ‘Oh, definitely a good thing,’ Willow chirped. ‘He told me he’ll be back early evening and that I should be glammed up to go somewhere special. He said he has a surprise.’

  Emma felt a stab of anxiety. She had a sneaking suspicion what this could be about. If she was right, a diamond solitaire would heavily feature. She so hoped her intuition was wrong.

  ‘Well, rather a nice surprise than a nasty one,’ said Emma, forcing herself to sound cheerful. ‘Hey, if you’re happy enough to leave the housework until tomorrow, how about we hang out together for a bit? I’m meeting Noah. You can say hello to him.’

  ‘Noah?’ said Willow in surprise. ‘I thought he wasn’t coming to England until December.’

  ‘Ah. When I say I’m meeting him, I mean a FaceTime session. We’re hooking up in about an hour. I was heading into Mosley for a coffee anyway. The last thing I want is Mum overhearing me and Noah chatting. She’s still blanking Noah on spending Christmas with us.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because she’s a bitch,’ Emma scowled.

  Willow was shocked at the harshness of her friend’s tone.

  ‘I still don’t understand your mum’s problem over Noah.’

  ‘There isn’t a problem,’ said Emma, frustration creeping into her tone. ‘The “problem” is in Mum’s head. She feels guilty for having nothing to do with Noah all these years.’

  ‘Nobody is going to judge her. And surely not Noah! After all, he’s making every effort to see Karen – I mean, your mum. So much so that he wants to spend Christmas in England with you both.’

  ‘Much as I love my mother, I don’t like her,’ said Emma frankly. ‘To be honest, I think she needs to see a counsellor and have a chat about it. Anyway, enough about her. Let’s make today about us. Meet me in Franco’s. We’ll have a lovely gossip with Noah, without my flipping mother flouncing about in a strop.’

  ‘Is your mum really that grumpy at the moment?’

  ‘Dreadful. She’d probably snap out of it if she found herself a decent guy. Someone grounded. There must be a man somewhere on the planet who can help her forget a thirty-year guilt complex about giving away her son.’

  ‘And what about you?’ said Willow carefully. ‘Any fresh developments on the romance scene?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Emma with a sigh. ‘I guess I have to face the fact that my last man was a plonker.’

  Willow suddenly felt awful. Here she was burbling about glamming up for Charlie and the anticipation of a nice surprise, when all Emma had to look forward to was chatting with Noah – and even that had to be done behind Karen’s back.

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you soon in Franco’s,’ said Willow.

  Ringing off, Willow realised her initial excitement over Charlie’s surprise had dimmed. Instead she was feeling a different sort of thrill. A sense of anticipation. As she slipped off her dressing gown and went to her wardrobe, Willow rifled through the coat hangers looking for a pair of jeans. She was astonished to see that her hands were trembling as they fluttered along the clothes rail. Now why was that?

  Plucking a pair of distressed denims from a hanger, she tried to ignore the fact that her earlier joy about Charlie’s secret surprise had faded like a boat disappearing over the horizon. Instead Willow was filled with a sense of buzzy excitement.

  She was going to speak to Noah.

  Fifty-Four

  Willow parked opposite Franco’s coffee shop. The café had a huge bay-fronted picture window. Peering through her car’s windscreen, Willow could see that Emma was already inside. Judging from her animated expression and extravagant hand gestures, Willow deduced Emma was already chatting with Noah.

  Willow’s stomach gave a delicious flutter of anticipation. Heavens, she felt like a teenager about to go on a date with her first love.

  Get a grip, woman! the little voice in her head scolded. This is Emma’s brother. And as she’s like a sister to you, it’s practically incestuous having a crush on her twin.

  Willow inhaled sharply. Was that what she’d got then? A crush on Noah?

  Oh, do stop trying to analyse your reaction. You’ve been down this path before. We’ve already had this conversation. It’s just a bit of chemistry, right? People experience it all the time. It’s nothing to get in a flap about.

  Willow gathered up her handbag and got out the car. With her mind full of spine-tingling thoughts about Noah, she found a gap between parked vehicles to cross the road.

  Yes, of course people experienced chemistry from time to time with another person. But should they really be quite so thrilled about talking to a person they’d never even met?

  Stepping off the pavement, the sound of a lorry’s squealing brakes duetting with a blaring horn, nearly had Willow rocketing out of her ankle boots. Now a window was buzzing down.

  ‘Oi, Blondie!’ yelled the apoplectic driver.

  ‘W-What?’ stammered Willow, clutching her chest.

  She craned her neck upwards. A furious middle-aged man was glaring down at her.

  ‘Did you know that I’m addicted to brake fluid?’ he snarled. ‘Fortunately I can stop whenever I want. That’s a lame joke, but it’s how I cope when a ditzy person like you decides to cross a road without looking.’

  ‘I’m so s-sorry,’ Willow stuttered.

  Blimey. That had been a close one. She really must concentrate, or she’d have a premature arrival at the Pearly Gates.

  ‘Look where you’re going in future,’ snapped the driver. ‘You’ve just aged me ten years.’

  ‘I’m truly very sor–’

  But the lorry driver wasn’t interested in her apology. Tutting, he roared off leaving Willow feeling very shaken. To her embarrassment, everyone inside the coffee shop had witnessed her near demise. All eyes were upon her as she wobbled across the road on jelly legs. By the time she’d pushed open Franco’s door, her face was crimson with humiliation.

  ‘Flipping heck,’ squawked Emma, as Willow slumped down in the seat opposite. ‘Are you all right? Wait. Stupid question. I can see you’re not okay. You’re shaking like washing pegged out in a hurricane. Here’ – she pressed her phone into Willow’s trembling hand – ‘talk to Noah while I get you a cup of tea with lots of sugar.’

  Willow was now vibrating so much from delayed shock, she wondered if she might judder right off her seat. As her eyes found Noah’s, she just knew that her red face was deepening to magenta.

  ‘What happened?’ said Noah, looking concerned.

  ‘I n-nearly g-got run over,’ gasped Willow.

  How embarrassing. She couldn’t speak properly. Her teeth were chattering so much, she probably looked like she was wearing joke dentures that came out of a Christmas cracker.

  ‘Was the driver not looking where he was going?’ questioned Noah.

  His initial look of alarm had changed to one of outrage.

  ‘Er…’

  Willow trailed off. She could hardly tell Noah that it had been her fault for being distracted due to her brain being stuffed with thoughts about him.

  ‘Hey, look, the main thing is you’re alive. It’s not your time to go anywhere just yet. And thank goodness. Because I really do want to meet you, Willow.’

  Once again she found herself enthralled with that sexy accent. And hearing Noah say her name made Willow think she might just keel right over. Her head was definitely getting closer to Franco’s wooden tabletop. Perhaps her face would crash down on Emma’s screen, and land squarely on Noah’s image. And then, despite being thousand
s of miles apart, ironically they’d be cheek to cheek. A classic case of “so near and yet so far”. She felt a giggle shoot out of her mouth. Oh God. She was losing the plot.

  ‘Whoops-a-daisy,’ said Emma.

  She grabbed Willow’s sagging shoulders with one hand as the other set down a cup of tea. Brown liquid slopped into the saucer.

  ‘Let’s get you sitting up properly. There we go. Sip. And another one. Good girl. How are you feeling now?’

  Willow leant back in her seat as the sugary tea got to work.

  ‘Better,’ she nodded.

  ‘Good,’ said Emma, releasing her.

  She slid into the seat opposite and retrieved her mobile.

  ‘Drama over,’ she said to Noah. ‘Let me prop you against the condiments so both Willow and I can see you.’

  ‘You’ve put me against the tomato sauce.’ Noah protested. ‘Oh well, I shall relish the fact that you’ve mustard up the courage to ketchup to my level,’ he deadpanned.

  Willow burst out laughing.

  ‘That is a truly terrible joke,’ she said, taking another slurp of sweet tea.

  She was relieved that her hand was now completely steady even if, paradoxically, her aortic valves were in pandemonium. It felt like a trampolining gymnast had taken up residence in her ribcage.

  ‘I do love a terrible joke,’ said Noah winking. ‘I can’t wait to say hello properly and charm you with my Australian humour.’

  ‘I shall look forward to it,’ said Willow.

  And she meant it. With a pang, she realised that December seemed light years away. How she wished she could do what Emma did, and just casually pick up her mobile and chat to Noah whenever she wanted. She gazed at the digital image before her, greedily drinking in his face. Those twinkling eyes. That slow, sexy smile. That mouth. Mm. She wondered what his lips might feel like against hers, and what he’d be like to kiss.

  Ahem. Excuse me. I can’t believe you just imagined kissing this guy. Outrageous!

  Willow ignored the little voice in her head. There was nothing wrong in idly fantasising about kissing another man. It was just the chemistry thing. That had already been established.