I’ve resisted her attempts at matchmaking me with random people she knows (including her dentist and the guy who delivers our pizza), but looking at her now, I know she won’t let this one go. She’ll be following me around like my own personal Just Do It Shia LaBeouf GIF cheerleader until I cave.
“Lucie, you have to go! You deserve a free holiday with a hot guy. You’re going!”
I groan in defeat and close my eyes.
“You’re going!” she repeats sternly.
“Yes, Mum,” I joke, sighing in exasperation. But I’m only saying that to shut her up.
I have no intention of changing my mind. It’s too absurd. Yes, the idea of a holiday sounds great, and spending time with a hot, hilarious guy is appealing, but … I’m not brave enough to be that impulsive anymore. Besides, I already have a date lined up this weekend with Netflix and one of my mother’s tiramisus. I’ll simply text Theo a rejection later and then tell Aubrey I couldn’t get time off work at short notice. That’s a perfectly reasonable and believable excuse.
The rest of lunch is her raving on and on about Theo and how jealous she is. She tells me he’s an illustrator. I must admit, I’m more than a little intrigued about him now, and I can’t wait to get back to the office and look him up to see what books he’s worked on and if he’s talented. I tell her about our bargain—that in return for me going to the wedding, he’ll come to my dad’s party and let me pretend we’re a couple to make Lucas jealous. No surprises, Aubrey loves the idea.
I feel bad for lying to her, but it must be done.
By the time lunch is finished and we’re heading back to our building, arm in arm, I feel a little deflated. She’s so upbeat and positive about it, but I’m back to wallowing in self-pity about losing my fiancé to a prettier, fitter, younger version of me. Putting on a brave face is exhausting.
As we flash our badges to get through the barrier at reception, the lady sitting there gives me a wide smile and holds up one finger. “Oh, wait, you’re Lucie, aren’t you? Lucie Gordio?”
“I am.” I nod and stop by her desk, thinking she must have some more galley copies or a delivery or contract for me to sign for.
“Perfect timing. I was about to call upstairs to you!”
“Oh, really?”
She grins and reaches under her desk, pulling out a box of six Krispy Kreme doughnuts, heavy on the biscotti variety. “Someone left these for you.” She makes an excited squealing noise and grins, eyes flitting from me to Aubrey.
I take the box, and my heart leaps into my throat. I don’t even need to read the note that’s written in black Sharpie on the corner of the box to know these are from Theo. It’s too random and too much of a coincidence to be anyone else sending me doughnuts.
“Ooh, yummy! Share!” Aubrey chirps, grinning down at them, not realising the significance of them.
“They’re from Theo.” I take a deep breath and read his message aloud, “Don’t ever let it be said that I didn’t buy you dinner.” It’s so cute that I almost do a little internal swoon as I chew on the inside of my cheek.
Aubrey excitedly claps her hands, and the receptionist gives a dreamy sigh.
And that thoughtful inside joke is all it takes to change my mind again. I open a text, and instead of letting him down … I send him:
Me: Thanks for the calories! They’ll all be eaten within three hours.
And I tack on my date of birth at the end.
Screw it, I have nothing to lose. And I’m now strangely excited about my little impromptu weekend getaway. Aubrey is right; I do deserve it.
I head off upstairs to go book the time off.
Later that night, just as Aubrey and I are sitting in front of the TV, eating my mum’s reheated cannelloni, Theo texts me with our flight times and numbers and the itinerary for the wedding weekend.
I stare down at my phone in confusion for a minute and then text him back.
Me: Is that a joke for Friday night?
Theo: Nope, deadly serious.
“Oh crap, what have I got myself into?” I groan.
six
Theo
London Stansted Airport around lunchtime on Thursday is packed with eager, happy passengers ready to jet off on their holidays. I tug my carry-on suitcase closer to me as a group of young lads