I Heart London

  ‘Right.’

  ‘But it was a bit weird.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘So I invited him to the wedding.’

  Alex rubbed his eyes and blinked a couple of times before setting his emerald eyes on me. ‘Just so I’m straight here − you hung out with your ex, it got weird and then you invited him to our wedding?’

  I squeezed my nose and swiped my smudged eyes again.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then did you call Solene and invite her along to completely destroy any chance of this wedding working out?’

  Solene. AKA Le French Bitch. AKA Alex’s ex. AKA my nemesis. Well, one of them, along with Cici and Mark’s girlfriend. I hated having three nemeses at twenty-nine. It was too many for someone who wasn’t a master spy.

  ‘I did not call Solene − I don’t have her number,’ I replied. My joke fell flat. Besides, I did have her number. It was saved in my phone under ‘evilbitchfromhell’ just in case. ‘It was stupid, I know. It just came out. But I’m sure he’s not going to come.’

  ‘Did he say he’s not going to come?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ I admitted. ‘And I also invited his girlfriend.’

  ‘Angela.’ Alex leaned back against the spare bed, looking at me with tired surprise. The way a teacher might look at a pupil who has been eating the papier-mâché. Again. ‘Do you want him at the wedding?’

  I looked at the photo albums, the scrapbooks and half of Clintons Cards’ warehouse piled up in the plastic storage box in front of me. ‘Well, it’s not like I want him to give me away.’

  ‘And it’s not my dream come true to hang out with your ex on our wedding day.’ He put his arm back around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest. His heart rate was definitely up, and not in a ‘let’s do it on the bedroom floor’ way. ‘We both know what happened when you met mine.’

  We did know. The short version of that story was ‘nothing good’.

  ‘And I don’t want to come off as the jealous type,’ he said, kissing my hair and holding me tightly. ‘But I kinda am.’

  I tilted back to drop a kiss on his lips. ‘Me too.’

  This didn’t appear to be a good time to tell him about the attempted snog, and really, what was the good in him knowing? Mark had taken a kicking and it wasn’t like anything had really happened. This was definitely one of those better-off-not-knowing things.

  ‘This one is easy,’ Alex said, dropping the cover on the storage box and clicking it tightly closed, ignoring my sharp intake of breath. Was he going to suggest disinviting him? Had he forgotten I was English? ‘Just call him and tell him he can’t come.’

  ‘There’s no way he’ll come,’ I promised. ‘He’s stupid, but he’s not that stupid.’ I really hoped I was right. He was pretty stupid.

  ‘And all of this stuff? The cards, the photographs, all of it − ancient history,’ he said, pushing the box underneath the bed with his foot. ‘No more tears over the past. As of Saturday, it’s you and me for good. No ex-boyfriends, no ex-girlfriends, just me and you every single day, exactly like it should be.’

  ‘Just me and you.’ I bit my lips, trying to put some colour into my face that wasn’t a variation on grey. ‘Sounds nice.’

  ‘I guess I should add a proviso for the fact that we’re never going to get rid of Jenny.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘And I figure it’s only a matter of time before Craig ends up living on our sofa.’

  ‘And now you’ve given my dad some keys, I’m pretty sure he’s eyeing a move over,’ I added.

  Alex laughed and unwrapped his arms from around my neck. He gave me a gentle push backwards and we looked at each other quietly for a moment.

  ‘I think you should wear that to the wedding,’ he said. ‘Suits you.’

  ‘Might have to if the dress doesn’t get here.’ I pulled the faded black T-shirt out and looked at it properly. Hmm. Mum wasn’t much for AC/DC. ‘Have you got your ensemble sorted?’

  ‘Your dad wants to take me to some place called Westfield?’ He stretched out a denim-clad leg and poked me with his Converse. ‘Is that a good thing?’

  ‘Westfield is a good thing,’ I confirmed. ‘Dad wanting to spend every waking moment with you is just adorable. Bromance of the century.’

  ‘Right?’ Alex’s mouth curled at one corner. ‘If he weren’t giving you away, I’d figure he’d challenge Graham to a duel for best man.’

  ‘He might still. Don’t think he’s nearly as taken with me as he is with you.’

  ‘Angie! You have a wedding present!’

  The front door opened and Jenny’s voice screeched up the stairs at exactly the same time.

  ‘I love it when she proves my point,’ Alex said as I jumped up and vaulted over him towards the door. ‘How come it’s not our wedding present?’

  The reason it was my wedding present and not ours became immediately apparent as I rounded the bottom of the stairs. Expecting a ribbon-wrapped box or something sparkly at the very least, it was more than a bit of a surprise to see a strapping six-footer standing in the kitchen.

  ‘James!’ I bounded up to my buddy and leapt into his arms. He spun me round the kitchen and dipped me low into a dramatic Hollywood kiss. As was the way with his people.

  ‘You made it!’ I dropped to my feet and settled into a more conventional neck-breaking hug. ‘Why didn’t you email?’

  ‘Because I’m shit,’ James Jacobs replied. ‘So I thought I’d just stop in and say hello. Hey, dude!’

  He gave Alex a far more manly hug as he appeared behind me.

  ‘Glad you could make it, man,’ Alex said, clapping him on the back.

  ‘Is it me,’ I heard my mum whisper to Jenny, ‘or does he look ever so familiar?’

  It wasn’t just her. Aside from being my very favourite homosexual in the whole world, James was a very famous actor. I’d interviewed him in Hollywood and after a bit of a shaky start and accidental global outing, we’d become firm friends. He’d even collaborated with Alex on a couple of film scores for some independent movies he was working on. I’d read an article in which James claimed coming out had given him a ‘new-found creative freedom’, but I had a horrible feeling it was more to do with not being offered the romantic leads and hard-man roles he’d taken on before the world knew he preferred boys to girls. Sad. But he seemed happy; that was enough for me.

  ‘Right, get yourself dressed − we’re going out for cocktails,’ he said, slapping me on the arse and turning to flash his million-dollar smile at my mum while I hopped from foot to foot, clapping. I was excited. ‘You ladies will be joining us, of course? And Alex?’

  ‘Oh.’ Mum held a hand up to her throat and blushed. Actually blushed. ‘I don’t think you want me out on the town with you.’

  ‘And I promised David I’d go suit-shopping with him and Alex,’ Jenny said as the initial excitement wore off and the cold curtain fell around her again. ‘You guys go.’

  ‘Yeah, suit shopping,’ Alex confirmed. ‘Take a shot of Jack for me?’

  I was sort of pleased Alex couldn’t make it, this was definitely girl bonding territory, but Jenny wasn’t getting out of it that easily.

  ‘Jenny, they can dress themselves − they’re grown-ups. They’ve got ninety years of getting-dressed experience between them,’ I pleaded, hanging off James’s hand. ‘Or they can wait until tomorrow and we can all go.’

  ‘And should you be having cocktails?’ Mum remembered her place and gave me a stern look. ‘Really?’

  ‘Just one.’ I waved away her motherly concerns and turned back to Jenny. She looked like she was wavering. ‘Come on. We’ll go somewhere brilliant. Won’t we go somewhere brilliant?’

  ‘We’ll go somewhere brilliant,’ James confirmed. ‘Come on, Lopez. I’ve got a car outside, and if you really must, I’ll have you home by midnight − you won’t turn into a pumpkin.’

  She scrunched up her face and looked down at her notebook. ‘I just have so much more to do.’

  ‘Jennifer L
opez.’ James put on as stern a voice as he could manage. ‘I demand you come out with us. Besides, if this one is going to insist on getting married, I’m going to need you as a wingman.’

  Apparently that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Jenny’s eyes froze over and she took a step back towards the living room. ‘You guys go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Louisa is coming over at ten.’

  ‘I’ve got to say,’ Mum said, nodding towards the closed living-room door. ‘From all your stories, I thought she was going to be more of a wild one.’

  ‘Well, she is.’ James gave me a concerned glance. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in the car.’ I felt my shoulders droop, kissed Alex lightly on the cheek and started for the stairs. ‘I’ll be back in two minutes.’

  ‘So, Mrs Clark.’ James turned his charm up to one hundred percent. ‘It’s just you and me.’

  I didn’t think I’d ever heard my mum giggle. First time for everything.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘Where are we again?’ I cowered behind James as we pushed through a narrow bar, following a ridiculously attractive waitress to a ‘quiet table in the corner’. Of course it became wildly apparent as soon as we sat down in our big leather armchairs that it was the most visible position in the entire bar. ‘It feels east.’

  ‘It is east.’ James nodded at the waitress and passed me the menu. ‘It’s Loungelover. It’s nice. Shut up.’

  ‘There’s a hippo’s head on the wall.’ I rubbed my turquoise skinny jeans and wondered whether I should have gone with a dress. Everyone else seemed to be wearing dresses. And heels. And all of the make-up.

  ‘Yes, there is, but we’ll get to that after you’ve explained to me why exactly you think you’re getting married on Saturday?’

  ‘Because I am,’ I replied, perusing the cocktail menu. ‘And not that I’m not ecstatic, but how come you’re here?’

  ‘Aside from the irresistible allure of being your bridesmaid?’ James cocked an eyebrow at my ‘you’re so funny’ expression. ‘Fine, pink doesn’t suit me anyway. I was here visiting the family. My dad’s been ill.’

  ‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ I put the menu down and reached sideways to give him a mini-hug, but he shrugged it off before it reached full snuggle status as only a man can do.

  ‘He’s fine,’ he said, taking up the menu. ‘Or he will be. It’s fine.’

  ‘Spoken like a true Yorkshireman,’ I said, taking in my surroundings. The bar was ornate − lots of chandeliers and giant champagne flutes filled with flowers − but any excessive elegance was balanced out by old iron gates that separated out the bar, curious anatomical posters on the walls and, of course, my new friend, hippo head. It was part cocktail bar, part nineteenth-century doctor’s office, and all London.

  ‘What’s going on with Jenny?’ James smiled brightly at the waitress, summoning her in a heartbeat and ordering a bottle of champagne. ‘I didn’t think that girl was capable of turning down a drink. Has she gone mad? Did she take a blow to the head?’ He lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘Is she in AA?’

  ‘Not quite, but she is being really weird.’ I shook my head and rolled up the sleeve of my slouchy soft ivory sweater. I was practising not spilling anything down white clothing. ‘The last couple of months she’s been on this mad bender, and ever since we got here, she’s just gone into crazy planning mode over the wedding. She won’t drink, won’t entertain a conversation if it’s not about place cards. She made my mum take her to the Carphone Warehouse to get a Bluetooth headset yesterday. She bought a clipboard. The girl was in London within a half mile of Selfridges, and she wanted to go to WH Smiths and buy highlighters. And then, just in case that wasn’t random enough, I went to look in her suitcase the other day and she hasn’t got any clothes with her. Seriously, none. Just, like, three pairs of pants or something.’

  ‘English or American?’ James looked concerned.

  ‘English,’ I confirmed. ‘And when I tried to talk to her, she just shut me down.’

  ‘You think she’s jealous? Of the wedding?’ he asked as the waitress brought a bottle of Veuve Clicquot to our table along with assorted appetizers we had not ordered but I would be eating. There were definite perks to hanging out with James. ‘Maybe she’s not organizing anything. Maybe she’s secretly planning to bring it all down.’

  ‘Don’t even jest about that,’ I said, vaguely wondering what it would mean to have Jenny as an enemy while I shoved shrimp tempura down my throat. I would need something stronger than champagne if that was the case. ‘No, she’s still not over Jeff. Although I have to say I wouldn’t have thought organizing a wedding would be particularly good fun for her right now.’

  ‘The heart wants what the heart wants,’ James shrugged, pouring out the champagne. ‘Sounds to me like she’s punishing herself. And punishing you into the bargain.’

  That didn’t sound like a lot of fun. I took my drink and forced a half-smile for James.

  ‘To you and your upcoming nuptials.’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Get it down you, I have to tell you some scary things about the wedding night.’

  ‘Well, I am wearing white,’ I replied, letting the bubbles fizz around in my mouth. Oh, champagne, I thought happily. At least you are always consistent. ‘Obviously.’

  ‘Just remember to try to relax,’ he replied, relaxing into his chair. ‘It only hurts more if you’re tense.’

  ‘How would you know?’ I scoffed before choking on a gyoza. ‘Scratch that. Do not elaborate, I don’t want to know.’

  ‘I’m just trying to prepare you for married life,’ he said, slouching over the arm towards me. ‘Husbands have certain expectations.’

  ‘So, James −’ I didn’t want to find out where he was taking this conversation − ‘how’s your love life?’

  ‘Good, actually.’ He brightened noticeably and sat up straight. ‘I’m seeing someone. It’s very new so I don’t want to jinx it or anything, but I like him. He’s based in New York, as it happens, so hopefully we’ll be able to hang out more when you get back.’

  ‘That’s good news.’ I tried to ignore the group of girls at the next table who were taking sly pictures of James on their phones. Mostly, I just didn’t want to be in them. ‘Do you have pictures? Facebook?’

  ‘He’s not on Facebook.’ James hid behind his hands and peeped out between his fingers. ‘He’s old.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Forty-seven.’

  I made a very unattractive squealing sound, a little bit like an angry pig, and slapped James on the arm. ‘Look at you dating a grown-up!’ I cackled. ‘I’m so proud.’

  ‘Yeah, shut up.’ He coloured slightly and dropped his head so that his longish curls covered his eyes. ‘He’s nice. It’s nice. Strange but very nice. There’s no drama.’

  ‘Please, I’m all for drama free and nice,’ I said, looking up at the hippo head and hoping he wouldn’t fall. ‘I’m happy for you.’

  ‘Good. But that brings me back to my original question,’ James said, popping a spring roll into his mouth. ‘What’s with the shotgun wedding? Are you knocked-up?’

  ‘Would I be drinking if I was?’ I held up my glass, more to point out it needed refilling than anything else.

  ‘I don’t know − maybe you’re planning to be a terrible mother.’ He topped me up and went back for another spring roll. ‘Or maybe you just want to make sure it isn’t too big and doesn’t wreck your vajayjay. Drinking early on tends to make them pop out smaller.’

  ‘Thank God you are physically incapable of giving birth to a child,’ I said, trying not to think about where he’d picked up that nugget of wisdom. ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’

  ‘So it’s just your common or garden spur-of-the-moment backyard wedding?’ he said, looking disbelieving. ‘Is he going to turn you into a vampire?’

  ‘I’m not pregnant, I’m not dying, Alex isn’t dying, as far as I know, no one else is dying.’ I held out my fingers and ticked off the re
asons one by one. ‘I’m not doing it for a green card and I’m not being turned into a vampire or a werewolf or a fairy or any other mythological creature. As far as I know.’

  ‘It’s just a bit weird.’ James flashed our neighbours a dashing smile and turned back to me with a bored expression. ‘They know I’m gay, don’t they?’

  ‘Even the Pope has accepted you’re gay,’ I replied. ‘And generally speaking, he’s not so OK with it.’

  ‘Is Alex gay?’ he asked eagerly. ‘Has he seen the light? Is that why you’re trying to lock it down?’

  ‘I’m not trying to lock it down,’ I argued, even though I absolutely was. ‘We came home for my mum’s birthday and she suggested we get married while we’re here and, I don’t know, it just sort of made sense. The idea of a big wedding, church, reception, staged pictures? It just freaked me out. I never wanted that.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean you want this, though,’ he said. ‘Your wedding is a big deal − it’s not something you should rush. I didn’t realize it was something you could rush unless you were in Vegas, and I think we’ve already taken that option off the table, haven’t we?’

  ‘We have,’ I acknowledged, shuddering at the memory. ‘But this is different. It’s going to be very simple − just small, no arseholes, lots of dancing and as much food and drink as can be arranged between now and then. As you have seen, Jenny is on it.’

  ‘I’m just playing devil’s advocate, as always.’ He pushed the last spring roll towards me and I gladly ate it. ‘But I think you’re going to regret not taking your time with this. What if there are things you think of afterwards that you wished you had had? You don’t get a wedding do-over.’

  I chewed thoughtfully.

  ‘At least, I hope you won’t, because I love Alex.’

  Damn spring roll. I was being silenced by Asian fusion tapas.

  ‘Although I suppose you could do a Heidi and Seal and renew your vows every year until you get it right.’

  ‘Or until you get divorced,’ I said with my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t wait to speak another second. ‘If they can’t make it work, who can?’