My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding - By Katya Starkey Page 0,28

dark hair. “But you have to go to work today and find Oliver.”

Sighing loudly, I think my affianced is in agreement. “If you’re sure you’ll be all right on your own.”

I am sure, and I won’t be on my own thanks to Anika who text me this morning saying she’ll help with the cafe clean up.

By the time I actually get up off the sofa I’m fearing it’s already late in the morning. It’s still only 7am though, so I’m guessing my body woke me early due to uncomfy sofa squashedness.

Despite the early hour, I run upstairs, shower and get dressed quickly. I’m in a hurry to get to the cafe and when I reach the halfway point of running back down the stairs, my jeans slip all the way down to my ankles, I trip and I tumble and roll, falling all the way to the ground floor landing.

***

I have never been so happy to fall halfway down the stairs in all my life.

Callum comes bursting into the hallway. “Are you all right?” He asks, bending to help me to my feet.

“I’m perfectly wonderful actually, look!” Once I’m upright I point at my jeans that have pooled around my ankles. “My jeans are too big, Cal. I’ve lost weight!”

Callum frowns and shakes his head. “Are you sure you didn’t bang your head? Em, you just tumbled down the bloody steps.”

“It’s okay… honest… I’m fine!” I’m more than fine. I’m positively ecstatic. Not even the prospect of having to clear up my trashed cafe could bring me down now. Bending, I scoop up my jeans and head into the kitchen. Callum follows. “I’m going to have to cut a tighter hole in my belt, honey!”

And that’s exactly what I do. Grabbing a knife from a drawer, I stab and work a new hole into the black leather of my belt. When I tighten up my jeans I have to admit that it does look a bit silly all bunched up around my waist.

“Hang on.” Fluttering the loose fabric of my blue t-shirt, a smile burst across my face. “I think I’m finally losing mass in my breasts too, Cal!”

Flinging his head back in mock outrage, my fiancé’s reaction to my boob shrinkage is way over the top. “Noooooooo!” He cries like a war torn film actor.

“Oh quit it.” I slap him playfully on his arm.

He frowns like a pouty baby. “I demand you stop whatever dieting and exercising you’re doing. I don’t want to lose these.” Leaning, he puts his head on my chest and gently rubs one of my breasts as though it’s a treasured object.

I bat his hands away. “You’re such a brat.” I laugh and run away quickly.

Ten minutes later I’m driving up to the back entrance of my cafe. I park my car in the one allotted space and hop out. Pushing open the cafe door I chuck my handbag onto an over turned office desk and get to work tidying up. After only thirty minutes of clearing away things I’m starting to sweat. Well, that’s good. At least I can gain some benefit from this disaster if it means that cleaning up gives me added exercise.

“Hello, boss lady!”

Ah. Anika has just come in through the rear entrance. I look up to find she’s not alone.

“Paige?” I question the frizzy haired lady from the health food store. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help, of course.” Paige smiles at me, but I don’t return the grin because of the thing that’s floating next to her.

I see red for a second and my hand starts to shake the broom I’m holding. “What’s that thing doing here though?”

Anika notices the panic in my eyes. “Do not worry, boss lady!” She extends her hands and runs over to me. “Paige’s robot is normal.”

Normal? “Are you sure, Anika?” I ask, thinking the girl must be bloody brave. “Fiona couldn’t even bring herself to come in today after being traumatized by the robot yesterday!”

“This robot is small and okay.” She points at the ladder shaped robot. Paige is talking to the thing and soon it springs into action. It’s as though the little bot knows exactly where everything goes. I watch in amazement as the thing practically clears everything up all on its own.

“Hang on!” I shout to Paige as her robot heads towards my back offices. “I’d like to do that clearing up myself please.”

Paige shrugs her shoulders. “Suit yourself,” she says to me before ordering her bot to