we sat up late, the blaze of campfire on our faces, drinking red wine from paper cups while talking. We talked a lot in the evenings because during the day we spent so long riding on the bike, watching the landscape change around us. But I was grateful for this time because it allowed me to think and, gradually, to fall in love with him. It wasn’t like with Rory. There was no rush and I wasn’t worried that Zach would vanish. There were no doubts, no anxiety about my own behaviour or that I’d say something wrong. He was here in front of me, my arms around his jacket.
I felt safer on the back of that bike than anywhere I’d ever been before. Turns out, you can’t write a prescription to help you find that person, your person. You might think you want blond hair and blue eyes but it doesn’t work like that, fortunately. There’s magic in life that remains beyond our control. I thought I’d known exactly what I wanted but been proven wrong. Zach was what I needed and I felt grateful every day that I realized this before it was too late.
As the waiter put down the bottles in front of us, the last flash of sun dropped away and I looked back to him.
‘What?’ he asked, squinting at me sideways. He’d become used to a constant barrage of questions in the past two months, most often ‘What are we having for lunch?’. In Patagonia, my devotion to cheese and tomato sandwiches had been superseded by one for Argentinian hot chocolate, as thick as golden syrup. I was drinking one a day and the waist of my jeans now cut into me when I sat behind him. Well, it was either the hot chocolate or I was pregnant. Patricia would be appalled if I had a baby without being married. Apparently she was still in mourning about Mia’s wedding and, from the sound of Ruby’s emails, there was little danger of another family wedding for some time; she and Mia were out partying almost every night and the house was chock-a-block with Jeremys again.
‘Nothing,’ I replied, shaking my head and reaching for my beer. ‘Just happy.’
He smiled before his glance slid past me and his eyes widened in recognition. ‘He’s here,’ he said, pushing his chair back to stand and lift his hand in a wave.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Dad approaching, and then stood with him. ‘You’ll be fine.’
‘Course,’ he said, his hand dropping and reaching for mine. ‘I’ve got you.’
If you loved The Wish List, then don’t miss out on more hilarious and feel-good romcoms by Sophia Money-Coutts:
What Happens Now?
The Plus One
Acknowledgements
Stupidly, I can’t remember the name of the person I have to thank most of all for this book. The idea came about when my friend Jackie invited me to a ‘sex tech’ dinner she was hosting in London. Jackie works for a trendy tech start-up which had recently launched a range of ‘pretty’ and ‘elegant’ pastel-coloured vibrators, the sort of sculptural object that wouldn’t look out of place on a mantelpiece. Everyone going to the dinner would get given a vibrator, said Jackie. Free food and a free sex toy? I RSVP’ed immediately.
At this dinner, I sat next to a woman who told me a story which made me quite forget the vibrators. Some years before, she’d become pregnant with her boyfriend who’d upped and left halfway through her pregnancy. She was devastated: left alone, soon to have a baby and heartbroken. As a coping mechanism, she decided to write a list of what she was looking for in a man. It was a very specific list detailing physical attributes as well as character traits and his hopes for life. ‘And then I met him,’ she told me, with a shy smile. According to this woman whose name I cannot remember, a man with all the qualities on her list subsequently came into her life, took her small son on as his own and she was now grateful that her previous relationship had broken down.
Well, call me an old softie but I loved the romance of this and decided to write a story which included some sort of list. This book is the result and I am hugely grateful to both Jackie and the anonymous woman for sparking the idea.
After them, I am most thankful to the team who helped pull this book together. My agent, Becky Ritchie, continues