The One with All the Bridesmaids: A hilarious, feel-good romantic comedy. Erin Lawless
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СКАЧАТЬ let’s just have fun, have sex; let’s just see what happens. You promised me you wouldn’t turn into one of these nut-job women charting their temperatures and testing the consistency of their cervical mucus.’ He pulled a face of utter disgust. Sarah, who had been doing exactly those things secretly by way of an app on her phone for almost a year now, struggled to regroup her thoughts.

      ‘Cycles, months, whatever. Whatever wording you want me to use, I think it’s obvious that we have a fertility problem. And we need to see a doctor about it.’

      ‘How can we have a fertility problem?’ Cole blustered. ‘You only went for that test you have to do this year, and you said it all came back fine?’

      ‘Cole, a smear test is nothing to do with fertility,’ Sarah snapped. ‘And besides, why do you automatically assume any problem has to be with me?’

      The set of her husband’s jaw was mutinous. ‘Hey, don’t pile this on me. I’m doing my bit.’

      ‘Your bit?’ Sarah repeated, incredulous.

      ‘You know what I mean,’ Cole snapped, refusing to take the apology bait. ‘Don’t be like this. God, I don’t remember you being half so over-the-top when we met.’ He grabbed up the navy Superdry hoodie he’d thrown over the back of their armchair. ‘And as you’ve taken it upon yourself to tell my friends that we’re too busy to help them with their wedding planning, I’m going to give Harry a call and see if I can do anything. I’ll see you later.’

      And that was that. Cole pulled the front door closed a little harder than was strictly necessary. Sarah sank into the armchair, pulling her feet up underneath herself like a child. She’d known that he was going to be on the defensive like this – she’d practically scheduled in this fight after all, clearing their weekend for it – but the row still echoed through her all the same, for all it was the same old story: Cole could do no wrong; ‘their’ friends became ‘his’ friends; she was taken to task for not being the same person she’d been when they met, like he was thinking of going to Trading Standards and demanding a refund because his carefree, twenty-something girlfriend had become his thirty-something wife: a dress size or two larger, a hell of a lot more stressed and always ever-so-slightly behind with her waxing.

      And perhaps with redundant ovaries to boot.

      Sighing, Sarah reached for her phone. Although she didn’t know who she was planning to call. Her mum and the rest of her family were all the way over in Wales and her old school and uni friends were now just people on Facebook with new surnames and fat-faced babies as their profile pictures. She could call Nora, or one of the other girls, she supposed, but – as Cole had been very quick to remind her – they were all foremost his and never just for her.

      So instead she spoke to Siri.

      ‘What’s the ideal weight a woman should be to help with conception?’ she asked, ruefully.

       Chapter 5

      Gray gave a low whistle as he got out of the car. ‘You sure now how to treat a guy, Miss Adkins.’

      Cleo couldn’t help but stare too, sliding her sunglasses down from where they were perched atop her pinned-back fringe; she had to – it felt like the crenelated turret of Withysteeple Hall was touching the sun. ‘Christ. Nora would love this for sure. Ooh la la. Very Downton Abbey.’

      ‘Completely,’ Gray agreed. ‘Why hasn’t she come out to see it?’

      Cleo made a face. ‘She’s had to go see a venue with her family. Don’t ask. Long story. Involves God and her overbearing Irish-Catholic mother, who I believe has more power than the former. She said she’d come out here to meet with the wedding coordinator if I reported back it was worth the meeting.’

      ‘Well, if she’s looking to get married in the splendid manner of a Jane Austen heroine, then I already think, yeah, it’s worth the meeting,’ Gray laughed. ‘This place couldn’t be more stunning!’

      Cleo hadn’t had Gray pegged for a regency-romantic – she smiled, filing that piece of information away – but she couldn’t help but agree with him. The manor house sat atop a gentle, natural mound – like it needed to look more impressive, Cleo thought, amused – beatifically crowning a thick carpet of surrounding meadow: fat columbines and forget-me-nots and creamy cow parsley, so dense you couldn’t see the grass.

      Okay, so it wouldn’t be so gorgeous come the winter – perhaps it might even be a little gothic for some tastes – but Cleo could already imagine the tall windows of the house lit up with firelight from within, the swollen-globe lights that strung the path from the car park at the gates to the front door glowing comfortingly, perhaps even a few shining flakes of snow swirling gently down from a starry sky. The four bridesmaids, each with fat fur stoles across their shoulders. Nora, all in white, glowing in the half-light of a winter afternoon. Amazing. She hadn’t even seen the inside yet and she was pretty sold.

      ‘Ooh, the café is open,’ Gray interrupted her reverie, having clocked the delightfully renovated stables selling cakes and concessions off to one side of the main building. ‘I could murder a scone.’

      Cleo laughed. ‘I did basically insist you drive me out to the countryside with fifteen minutes’ notice on a Saturday morning – a scone would be the least I could do! But really, thank you,’ she insisted. ‘You saved my arse. I really need to learn how to drive.’

      Gray cocked a smile. ‘But then how would I keep in scones?’

      ‘Well, there is that,’ Cleo nodded. ‘I can’t believe my luck that you had nothing better to do!’

      ‘What could be better than driving out to the home counties of a weekend to play fake-fiancé with my best friend from work?’

      ‘Plus getting to eat scones,’ Cleo reminded him.

      ‘Plus scones, of course,’ Gray agreed solemnly. ‘Shall we?’ He made a move towards the stables’ courtyard.

      ‘Nora’s given me a pretty long list of things I need to check out.’ Cleo waved her phone. Nora had insisted that her bridesmaids all download a group scheduler app for just such a purpose. ‘So maybe let’s do the necessary inside, and then we can be a little bit more leisurely about our baked goods? After all, there’s no rush.’

      Gray hesitated. (Oh. Oh.) And Cleo felt supremely stupid.

      ‘Except there is a rush,’ she corrected herself, smiling through the pressure of the awkwardness. ‘Sorry, that was … horrendously presumptive of me.’

      ‘Not a rush, as such, not at all,’ Gray rushed to assure her. ‘I can always see her later, or another night. I mean, it’s just a Tinder date. In fact, don’t even think about it. She’s not even the one I was most looking forward to going out with.’

      Cleo goggled at him. ‘You’ve got another date lined up?’

      ‘God yeah! I’ve another one on Tuesday – just going to the cinema, casual, you know – and one on Wednesday – that’s the real stunner, I can show you her photo – and I might have another one going in for Friday night, I’ll see how I feel later in the week. Sometimes you just want a night in, you know?’

      Cleo СКАЧАТЬ