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

by Debbie Viggiano

  Oh really? So if it’s just a ‘chemistry thing’, why are you now eyeballing his shirt and admiring the dark hair peeking over the top of that button?

  Willow could feel herself getting hot again, and it was nothing to do with the sweet tea and everything to do with her wretched conscience. Why were her thoughts suddenly skittering off and becoming erotic? Even as she asked herself this question, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Noah’s shirt buttons.

  Now she was imagining her fingers creeping into that tantalising opening and ripping the shirt apart, sending buttons scattering everywhere as she greedily feasted her gaze on Noah’s bare chest… which would be sprinkled with just the right amount of hair… and pecs toned just the way she liked… his warm hands giving just the right touch… for just the perfect kiss and introduction to foreplay–

  Foreplay? Geez, get a grip, woman.

  ‘Willow?’ said Emma, looking at her curiously.

  ‘Fabulous,’ she said brightly.

  ‘Really?’ said Emma, looking both surprised and pleased.

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

  He was looking delighted. Willow wondered why.

  ‘Your guy won’t mind, will he?’ Noah asked.

  ‘My guy?’ Willow queried.

  ‘Charlie,’ Emma prompted. ‘Your boyfriend.’

  She was looking at Willow carefully.

  ‘Remember him?’

  ‘Oh, that Charlie,’ said Willow, rolling her eyes theatrically and playing for time.

  What had Emma and Noah been talking about?

  ‘So Charlie definitely won’t mind?’ Emma prompted.

  Willow looked at her friend in confusion. Oh dear. This was just typical of her. Zoning out. Having a little daydream… and a delicious daydream at that. Well, whatever they’d been discussing, it couldn’t be an issue.

  ‘Of course Charlie won’t mind,’ she said, giving a dismissive laugh, as if the very idea of Charlie minding about anything was preposterous.

  ‘Then he must be a very magnanimous guy,’ said Noah, giving her such a blowtorch smile she thought her eyelashes might self-combust. Emma was now giving her a sly look. Willow ignored it.

  ‘Bro, my battery is running low. We’re going to have to end our FaceTime.’

  ‘Catch you later, sis,’ said Noah. He put up a hand in farewell. ‘Lots of love.’

  ‘Love right back,’ said Emma.

  Willow gave Noah a dinky wave. She only just managed to stop herself from saying, “Lots of love from me too.”

  The screen went blank.

  ‘Well you’re certainly full of surprises,’ said Emma speculatively.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Emma gave her a look that Willow couldn’t quite work out. Pleased? Hopeful? No, more… triumphant. Yes. That was it. Definitely triumphant. Like she’d just played an ace card and was all set to steal the game.

  ‘My brother said that when he gets to England, he’d like to take you out to dinner,’ Emma winked. ‘And you just agreed.’

  Fifty-Five

  Willow looked at Emma in shock.

  ‘What? Are you sure?’

  ‘Quite sure. I think your earlier flirtation with death has upset your marbles. Are you sure Charlie won’t mind you having dinner with another man?’

  Willow was so aghast at what she’d just let herself in for, she failed to see the way Emma was intently staring at her. If Willow had noticed, she would have spotted her friend looking like a world class chess player… one who’d just executed a move that put all her pieces in the right place.

  Willow didn’t know how to extricate herself from what she’d inadvertently agreed to. She didn’t want to make Charlie out to be possessive. Because he wasn’t. Well, she didn’t think he was. He’d never been bothered by Willow dressing up and going out on a girls’ night. If anything, he’d looked almost ecstatic each time he’d waved her off.

  ‘Of course Charlie won’t mind,’ said Willow defensively. ‘He’d probably love to come too.’

  ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t,’ Emma mumbled.

  ‘What did you say?’

  Emma cleared her throat.

  ‘Listen, Willow. I think Noah likes you.’

  ‘Sure. And I like him. He seems very affable.’

  ‘No, I mean, he likes you.’

  Willow stared at Emma.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  Emma was closely studying Willow’s body language.

  ‘And, um, might I dare suggest that you like him too?’

  Willow’s mouth dropped open. Had her “chemistry” feelings been so obvious?

  ‘Now you’re being absurd,’ she protested. ‘I’m living with Charlie. And blissfully happy.’

  ‘Are you?’ said Emma, pouncing on Willow’s last sentence.

  She was aware that her heart had started to pound unpleasantly. This was unchartered territory. Emma had never dared to ask Willow outright if she was truly happy with Charlie, or whether she ever suspected him of playing away. But suddenly Emma couldn’t bear not knowing any longer. Charlie hadn’t yet walked away from Willow. Could it be that Noah might instead be the catalyst for Willow walking away from Charlie? Emma could only hope so as she continued watching Willow’s reaction to her question.

  ‘Well of course I’m happy,’ said Willow, giving a strangled laugh.

  ‘How’s your sex life?’ said Emma.

  Oh, my goodness. Now she really was crossing a line.

  Willow gaped at Emma.

  ‘What sort of question is that?’

  ‘A nosy one,’ Emma admitted.

  ‘My sex life is fine, thanks.’

  ‘Honestly?’

  This hadn’t been the answer Emma had expected.

  ‘I know we’re best friends, Ems,’ – Willow adopted a cautious tone – ‘and that we share almost anything. I know we’ve laughed together at girly parties. The sort where dildos get passed around, and the best impression of sending a guy to heaven wins fluffy handcuffs. But I do draw the line at you prying into what goes on in my bedroom.’

  Emma put her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

  ‘Hey, I was only asking.’

  ‘Why?’ Willow persisted.

  Emma realised her friend was rattled. Unusually so? Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?

  ‘Because’ – she shrugged helplessly – ‘you accepted a date with my brother. It just got me thinking that maybe you weren’t happy with Charlie.’

  Even as she offered an explanation, Emma realised it sounded lame.

  ‘I haven’t’ – Willow posted quotation marks in the air – ‘“accepted a date” with Noah. To be honest, I don’t even remember him asking if I’d like to go for dinner. However, as you have already pointed out, I’ve not been myself since having a narrow escape with that lorry. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to dump my partner’ – Willow emphasised – ‘and run off with a man I’ve never met. Apart from anything else, you’re way off beam about Noah. He’s coming to England to reconnect with you and your mum. An invitation to join him for dinner is just a platonic extension of easing himself into the community. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to meet Charlie. Hey, Charlie can introduce Ben too. I’m sure Noah would much prefer a night out with a couple of football-mad lads than some ditzy blonde who can’t even cross a road without causing a drama.’

  Willow rattled to a stop. Her cheeks felt pink with indignation and her breath was coming in short gasps.

  The lady doth protest too much, methinks, sneered the little voice in her head.

  And you can shut up, she crossly retorted.

  ‘Well I’m glad we’ve sorted that out,’ said Emma.

  ‘There was nothing to sort out,’ said Willow huffily. ‘In fact, the next time you talk to Noah, give him my apologies and tell him I’m unable to accept his invitation. I don’t want any misunderstandings.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Emma protested.
‘I’ll be sure to tell him, although there’s really no need to be so prickly.’ She decided to change tack. ‘Anyway, I was only teasing you about Noah.’

  Best to back down. She’d given matchmaking her best shot and it had backfired. Not only was Charlie not leaving Willow, but clearly Willow had no intention of leaving Charlie either. For a minute or so, the two women didn’t say anything. Willow was the first to break the silence.

  ‘Sorry, Ems,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I know you meant well.’

  Emma gave Willow a weak smile. If only she knew the half of it.

  Fifty-Six

  As promised, Charlie returned home just before seven. Stepping into the hallway, he hummed the opening tunes to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and went upstairs looking extremely pleased with himself.

  Pausing on the landing, he clocked Willow through the open bedroom door and let out a low wolf whistle.

  ‘You look gorgeous, darling.’

  And he meant it. Why was he only just appreciating how beautiful his girlfriend was? Every time he looked at Willow, Charlie realised how much he’d taken for granted what he’d had all along. His experience with Kev combined with the steep learning curve over Sophie had him constantly looking at Willow with fresh eyes. Everything that had gone before was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered now was the future.

  ‘In fact’ – Charlie stepped into the bedroom with a gleam in his eye – ‘I think we have time for a quick sesh.’

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Willow, putting up her hands and creating an instant barrier between them. ‘You’re not wrecking my make-up just before we go out.’

  ‘Okay, but I’m giving you fair warning now that I’ll be wrecking it later. Starting with that luscious lipstick. I can’t wait to kiss it all off.’

  Willow giggled.

  ‘Go and get in the shower. Perhaps you should make it a cold one.’

  Charlie disappeared into the bathroom leaving Willow feeling bemused. She’d never known her boyfriend to be in such good humour. Whatever he’d arranged for tonight had clearly made him very happy. She just hoped it made her happy too, and that it wasn’t a “buttering up” ploy in order to ask something of her that she wouldn’t be too thrilled about.

  The last time Charlie had been so attentive had been prior to telling her he was off on a stag weekend to Scotland. He’d assured Willow that he and the lads would be indulging in golf and a few innocent beers. The reality had been the stag drunkenly hooking up with a prostitute that someone had jokingly hired for the night, and Charlie nearly getting arrested for being naked from the waist down in public.

  Willow had been unamused when Anna had accidentally let these details slip at one of her interminable dinner parties. Nor had she been able to get to the bottom of why Charlie had peeled off his boxers and trousers. At the time, Ben had given Anna a furious look as if to say, “Did you really have to tell Willow that?”. Later, when home, Willow had pressed Charlie for details, but he’d feigned amnesia and airily said that none of it mattered because Ben had looked after him. As always. Good old Ben.

  As Willow now reflected on the memory, she realised there’d been several occasions where Ben had stayed sober, but Charlie had enjoyed one too many beverages and ended up in “situations”. He’d always strenuously denied these situations being of his own making. Hm. Willow’s curiosity deepened about what tonight was really about.

  Charlie came out of the bathroom, a towel wound around his hips. A second later it had been dumped on the bed. Willow sighed and removed it, as she’d done a thousand times before. She left Charlie getting dressed and went to the bathroom. Folding the towel over the heated rail, she didn’t linger to tidy up shampoo and conditioner bottles or wash away a puddle of toothpaste froth in the sink. The room was full of steam and she didn’t want her carefully waved hair turning into a frizz-bomb.

  Walking back to the bedroom, Willow selected a pair of high heels from the wardrobe.

  ‘I’ll be downstairs putting my shoes on,’ she said.

  Charlie looked up. Seeing the stilettoes, he nodded his approval.

  ‘You can keep them on later,’ he said with a wink.

  ‘My pleasure,’ she said, winking back.

  He was definitely up to something. Ah well. Not much longer to find out. Turning on her heel, Willow went downstairs.

  Slipping her feet into the strappy heels, Willow briefly admired her crimson toenails. She’d painted her fingernails in the same shade. Even her lipstick matched. It was colour-coded “Scarlet Woman”. Not that Willow was a scarlet woman. She was a good girl. But right now, with the overhead light giving the illusion of a halo circling her hair, she looked like a very beautiful fallen angel. Charlie was almost visibly drooling when he came down the stairs.

  ‘If I hadn’t put so much effort into tonight, I’d drag you upstairs right now,’ he said hoarsely.

  My goodness, Willow was a stunner. Yet again Charlie was bewildered at how he’d failed to see what was under his nose all along. Compared to his girlfriend, Kev, Sophie and all the others were nothing more than a bunch of Plain Janes.

  ‘I don’t look that different,’ Willow protested. ‘It’s just the dress.’

  ‘And your lippy.’

  ‘It’s a new shade. Do you like it?’

  ‘I love it,’ he said. ‘Your lips look like two rubies.’

  Oh my God, what had he just said? That had to be the naffest compliment he’d ever paid a woman. Willow was looking at him like he’d turned into an alien who’d suggested beaming her up to Planet Knobhead.

  ‘Are you feeling okay, Charlie?’

  ‘Fine,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Let’s go.’

  He opened the front door and indicated she step outside first. Willow marvelled at Charlie’s chivalry. When had he ever done that before? Never.

  The cool evening air wrapped itself around her shoulders like a soft pashmina. She waited for Charlie to lock up and then accepted his proffered elbow. Wow. Nor could she remember the last time he’d invited her to link arms. Very gallant. And strange. And thoroughly out of character.

  Willow was even more surprised when Charlie drove her to Goldhill Grange. She and Emma had often salivated about this jewel of a hotel promising themselves that, one day, they’d go there and treat themselves to a girly afternoon tea.

  The huge old manor house was set in acres of manicured grounds against a backdrop of Kentish woodland. Renowned for its Michelin starred restaurant, Willow knew that tonight wasn’t going to be a cheap date. She wasn’t used to Charlie being extravagant or spoiling her. Goldhill Grange would have been the perfect place to have celebrated her recent thirtieth birthday. But that had been and gone. So why come here now?

  The headlights arced across the gravel drive as Charlie selected a parking spot. As the engine died, they were momentarily plunged into gloom. He glanced across the handbrake at his girlfriend.

  ‘Ready, sweetie?’

  ‘Charlie, what is going on?’ asked Willow in confusion. ‘Is it your mum’s birthday? A number with a zero on it? Or someone’s special anniversary?’

  ‘Nope,’ Charlie shook his head.

  ‘Is it someone’s surprise party?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Charlie in delight.

  ‘Whose?’ asked Willow, looking panicky. ‘I haven’t bought a gift. Not even a card.’

  ‘It’s our surprise party,’ Charlie beamed.

  ‘You’re making no sense.’

  ‘Come on. Let’s go in. All will be revealed.’

  Willow allowed Charlie to help her out of the car, and escort her up the ornate stone steps to the grand double-doored entrance. Inside the reception area, there were so many chandeliers that Willow momentarily felt like she was in the Lighting Department of John Lewis.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Goodman,’ greeted a uniformed man behind the desk. ‘Miss West,’ he nodded solicitously at her.

  Willow nodded back.

  ‘Your tab
le awaits. Follow me to the dining room, please. I will pass you over to Miguel, your server this evening.’

  Willow’s high heels click-clicked across the polished floor but, seconds later, sank into a carpet so thick and plush she thought her stilettoes might peg.

  She looked around the restaurant in wonder. This was eating out at its best. Diners’ tables were spaced well apart so conversations remained private. It was very different to the local pub’s rowdy babble where she’d celebrated her thirtieth. The only noise here was that of polished cutlery against china, and the soft murmur of couples conversing in hushed tones.

  Willow’s eyes did a quick sweep of the dining room. Yes, all couples. She couldn’t see any evidence of trestle tables lumped together for Aunty Vera’s seventieth birthday celebration, or beered-up lads moving from the bar to the restaurant and loudly belching as they perused drink-stained menus.

  ‘My lady,’ whispered Miguel as he directed Willow to sit down.

  A white linen napkin was draped over her knees and, seconds later, a leather-bound menu pressed into her hands.

  ‘Thank you,’ mouthed Willow.

  She daren’t speak normally. This place was almost quieter than Mosley Library. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to chat to Charlie. It was all very beautiful, but not terribly practical if you wanted to let the wine loosen your tongue and have a moan about someone. Willow immediately thought of Emma. Not that she could moan to Charlie about what her bestie had said. And certainly not here. What would fellow diners make of the conversation?

  “Hush, Fred. I’m earwigging on that young woman over there. Listen!”

  “Lovely restaurant, Charlie. Now that I’ve shipped a few bevvies, can I tell you something? Earlier on today, Emma tried pairing me off with her twin brother. Now why would she want to do a thing like that? She also asked about our sex life. Outrageous. I was tempted to tell her that we do it forty times a week and recently caused a national shortage of whippy cream.”

  “Blimey, Fred. That must be why Miguel could only offer us custard with our dessert.”