You Can’t Hurry Love. Portia MacIntosh

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      I was five years old when Belle was born, so I don’t really remember being anything but second best. I feel like I was the starter child my parents practised on before Belle came along.

      I think my mum gets her coldness from my gran – my Auntie June, my mum’s sister, is similar – so I can’t really blame her if that’s the kind of women she’s grown up around. My granddad, on the other hand, is a wonderful man who absolutely worships me. It doesn’t matter whether or not I’m in the right or the wrong, he is always on my side, always ready with a funny comment to cheer me up or a piece of helpful advice to help me sort my problems out. I actually really missed him while I was living in LA so I make sure to spend lots of time with him now.

      ‘It won’t be long before you two tie the knot, will it?’ Belle says to Mike and Rosie excitedly. I’ve never understood people’s hype for other people’s weddings, although I suspect she’s just trying to change the subject.

      ‘Just a few months to go,’ Rosie replies.

      I first met Mike, Dan’s brother, four years ago in the run-up to the wedding. We had a lot in common back then; Mike was 30, with no interest in marriage, and had a job his family didn’t approve of. He was the Mia of his family, the let-down, the child who never quite lived up to his parents’ expectations. Sure, he was happy working in a video-game shop, just like I was happy writing movies in LA, but our parents didn’t think we should be doing what we loved. They thought we should be getting married and starting families. It’s interesting to see how we’ve both changed. Maybe everyone does eventually.

      ‘Are you excited?’ Belle asks.

      ‘So excited,’ Rosie replies. ‘All the plans are in place now, it’s just a matter of waiting. And the stag and hen parties are next week!’

      Rosie squeals with excitement for a few seconds but then stops suddenly – I imagine it’s because she’s just remembered she hasn’t invited me.

      ‘Sorry for not inviting you,’ she says to me. ‘It’s just with your work and stuff, I didn’t think you’d be able to make it.’

      ‘You know I work from home, right?’ I reply.

      ‘Well, yeah, but I figured that meant you’re, like, always busy, busy, busy,’ she babbles with an awkward laugh.

      I don’t care, to be honest. It’s not like we’re close and I can’t think of anything worse than going on a hen party with a bunch of sickly wedding types.

      ‘We’ll take you lots of pictures,’ my mum says kindly. I love that she’s invited my mum but not me.

      ‘Thanks,’ I reply.

      ‘Yeah and, er, Leo, buddy…’ Mike starts.

      ‘I’m working,’ Leo replies quickly.

      ‘You don’t even know when it is, mate,’ Dan replies.

      Leo and Mike have never really liked each other. It’s a family wedding, so there was never any question whether or not Leo would go with me, but I can understand why he doesn’t want to attend the stag do. Still, it’s a relief to me, because if there’s one thing that fills me with dread, it’s stag dos. Mike is going to Magaluf for the weekend with his mates and, as much as I trust Leo as an individual male, I don’t trust gangs of lads, full of alcohol, the air around them thick with peer pressure, in stag mode – especially somewhere like Magaluf. Everyone knows that, in places like that, the drinks are cheap, the sex comes easy, and doesn’t everyone (rightly or wrongly) believe they can get away with things if no one is ever going to find out? Trusting Leo has never been an issue, but I’m not sure anyone would be comfortable with their significant other being in that situation, would they? I might be over my commitment phobia, but I still don’t think the course of true love runs easy. My sister thinks she’s married and it’s going to be rainbows and butterflies for the rest of her loved-up life, but I think marriage is work. I think people make mistakes. You don’t just have a happy relationship by picking the right person. You both have to do all the right things, every day, to make sure you’re both happy.

      ‘I take all the overtime I can get,’ Leo replies, ever the tactful diplomat. ‘Houses are expensive.’

      ‘Especially rundown ones like yours,’ Belle laughs.

      I frown. Only I’m allowed to slag off my house.

      My mum touches her grey, Nurse Ratched-style bob, which she’s been rocking for as long as I can remember, and which makes her look a lot older than she is, awkwardly. You can tell this conversation is making her uncomfortable.

      ‘So, plans for tomorrow. Your morning is yours, but I’m making lunch and I expect you all to be there,’ my mum informs the room, putting a stop to our sibling bickering before it can truly get started. She holds her gaze on me for an extra few seconds.

      ‘Sir, yes, sir,’ I joke.

      My mother rolls her eyes.

      ‘Clean plates all round, that what I like to see,’ Belle announces, making a move to clear the table.

      ‘I’m pretty tired,’ I say. ‘I might go for a lie-down.’

      ‘Yeah, I’ll come with you,’ Leo adds.

      ‘Oi oi,’ Mike chimes in. Everyone at the table shoots him a look.

      ‘OK,’ my mum replies. ‘Remember: lunch tomorrow.’

      I nod. It’s a classic Judith Harrison move to just demand we all be present for lunch. She’s decided we all have to be there, so we must. Because she says so.

      I head up the stairs, closely followed by Leo. He gives me a playful slap on the bum, which makes me giggle. He’s never struggled to put a smile on my face, even when I’m in a bad mood.

      ‘Well, this room looks exactly how we left it,’ I point out.

      ‘Nearly,’ he points out. ‘Both the pillows are at the top of the bed.’

      I laugh. When Leo and I shared this room last time, it was after we’d put our little summer romance on hold, at the request of my sister, who was worried my sex life might ruin her wedding for some reason. In the interest of keeping things platonic, I’d slept with my head at the top of the bed and Leo with his at the bottom.

      ‘None of that business tonight,’ I point out, running my hands up the front of his body before hooking them behind his neck. I press my body against him and gently place my lips on his, teasing him with my tongue. Usually my eager boyfriend reciprocates but tonight he feels stiff – and not in a good way.

      ‘You OK?’ I ask.

      ‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘Just a bit tired, I think.’

      ‘You’re never tired,’ I point out.

      ‘I work long, gruelling shifts as a firefighter, and when I’m not doing that, I’m working on the house СКАЧАТЬ