Marry Me Tomorrow: The perfect, feel-good read to curl up with in 2017!

‘Met someone, yeah. Not say you were married.’

Sighing heavily, I leaned on the oak worktop and rested my head against the cream cupboard door. ‘It’s going to be okay. Mum’s checking into a hotel so she’s not even staying here. She might only have to meet him a couple of times. We’ll get through Christmas and then in the New Year I’ll tell my mum that we’ve split up. No worries.’

‘Emily!’

‘Well, what else can I do? I don’t have time to do anything else. Mum was really excited about meeting him. She’s bought him a Christmas present and everything.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘I know. It’s a right mess.’

I bit my lip and stared up at the chrome spotlights above my head. The kettle boiled, the water inside bubbling away in much the same way as my stomach.

‘So what’s Sam’s story then?’ Lydia said. ‘How come he ended up homeless? Oh no, please don’t tell me he’s some poor troubled teenage kid and you’ve gone all Cougar on me.’

‘Don’t be daft. He’s a bit older than us, I’d say. Late thirties, early forties?’

‘Oh great. I bet he’s an alcoholic. “Alcopops”.’

‘Don’t!’

‘Or a junkie.’

‘No. I don’t know.’ I covered my face and groaned. ‘I keep telling you: he just seems like a decent bloke who’s down on his luck.’

‘So you don’t know how he became homeless?’

‘No.’ I turned my back to her, reaching up into the cupboard for the mugs. ‘But anyone can become homeless these days. You’ve seen the news. People lose their jobs and get behind on their mortgage repayments and it all goes tits up. Or their relationships break down and they leave. There are loads of reasons. Grief, even. Or illness. And yes, addiction is a big factor, but isn’t that another form of illness? It’s really terribly sad. Circumstances change, and people find themselves out on the streets with no way of getting back on their feet. It’s terrible.’

‘Yeah, I get that.’ Lydia stepped forward to stand next to me and looked into my face, trying to make me look at her. ‘And I know you care about this stuff. But you can’t just bring homeless people home with you. It’s all right feeling sorry for them – for him – but the fact is, he’s a stranger. You don’t know what his story is. He could be a right nasty bastard for all you know.’

‘Or he could be really nice. I do sort of know him, you know.’

Lydia shook her head. ‘No, you don’t. Listen, Emily, I know your interest in this sort of stems from your father.’

‘No, it doesn’t. Not this, anyway. My interest in the homeless, maybe. But Sam’s just this cool guy that I buy coffee for and chat to in the mornings. I needed a favour, and he said he’d help. There’s no need to overanalyse and get all suspicious about it.’

‘But you don’t know his story? You don’t know that he doesn’t have some violent past? Or some crazy personality disorder? He hasn’t told you anything?’

‘Not yet.’ I tried to sound breezy. ‘We’ve only been in for about an hour and he’s spent most of that in the bathroom.’

Lydia rolled her eyes. ‘He could be shooting up or anything.’

My stomach did a slow flip-flop, making me feel sick. ‘Lydia! Stop it. Even if he is, that’s not my business. I’m not actually marrying him, after all.’

‘Don’t be naïve, Emily. He’s going to be living in your home! What if he steals all your stuff to pay for his habit? I cross the street to avoid these people and here you are bringing one home to your flat. You’re insane.’

There was a click and the bathroom door swung open emitting clouds of steam like a scene from a science fiction movie. Lydia craned her neck to get a better look as Sam appeared, clad only in his new pyjama bottoms and rubbing a towel over his hair. My eyes travelled down over his body, taking in the way his broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips. His ribs were visible, but so were the clearly defined pecs. A tattoo snaked down towards the navy waistband of his trousers and another circled his bicep. I felt an involuntary kick of lust and, from the corner of my eye, I saw Lydia’s mouth drop open. He walked towards us, throwing the towel over his shoulder as he did so.

‘All right?’ Sam nodded at Lydia then looked across at me, his eyes wary.

‘Err hi.’ She looked uncertain, as though his appearance had disarmed her. ‘I’m Lydia. Emily’s best friend.’

‘Sam,’ he said, glancing between us again. He’d shaved and his face was smooth and pink, though his hair was still badly in need of a cut. It flopped over his forehead and he pushed it back with his hand as he looked across at me. ‘Does she…err?’

‘Yes, Lydia knows.’ I nodded and turned back to the kettle. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

‘Please.’

‘Well, I don’t know whether to look at you or read you,’ Lydia said, regaining her composure. She eyed a tattoo on his shoulder disapprovingly. ‘Are you covered in girl’s names or is it just the one?’

‘Just the one.’ Sam took the mug of tea I was holding out to him and took a sip, watching Lydia above the rim.

‘You’ll have to cover yourself up in front of Emily’s mum,’ Lydia continued. ‘I don’t think she’d be too impressed to see another woman’s name on her new “son-in-law’s” shoulder.’

Sam glanced down at his tattoo and shrugged. ‘We all have a past, don’t we?’ He looked at us for a moment and then turned and walked back into the lounge. Lydia and I exchanged a look.

‘Why is he walking around half dressed?’ she whispered. ‘What’s that about?’

‘Maybe he’s hot?’ I said, going a bit pink.

‘Yeah, you think so, don’t you!’ she hissed. ‘I can see why you picked him. I still don’t trust him though.’

‘Shut up and drink your tea.’

‘Any biscuits?’

‘Yeah, biscuits would be good,’ Sam called, his voice startling me. ‘I am here, you know. I can hear you fucking whispering. I’m not a million miles away.’

‘Rude!’ Lydia said.

‘I was taught it was rude to whisper,’ Sam said, reappearing in the doorway. He was wearing the pyjama top now and gave Lydia a “happy now?” look. ‘Sorry for any offence caused by my tattoos,’ he said, dripping sarcasm.

‘Don’t be silly,’ I said, struggling to unwrap a tin of Christmas biscuits.

Lydia laughed. ‘I was merely pointing out that it might not be appropriate to flash them in front of Emily’s mum.’

‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

They glared at each other, the atmosphere growing increasingly tense. I managed to remove the wrapper from the biscuit tin and held them aloft with a triumphant flourish.

‘Biscuits!’ I said, my voice a bit too enthusiastic for the current situation. ‘Shall we go and sit down?’

‘Basically, Sam,’ Lydia said, following me into the living room, ‘Emily has just told me about this stupid, madcap idea that she’s somehow roped you into and I’m here to make sure you don’t take advantage of my friend.’ She turned the lights up to their brightest and sat down on the sofa next to me.

‘I’m just doing her a favour,’ Sam said, settling in the armchair opposite. ‘I have no intention of taking advantage of her.’

‘Well that’s good to hear. But I don’t know you, so how can I trust you?’

‘Sam, take no notice of her.’ I shook my head at him. ‘Lydia, be quiet.’

‘No, Emily –’

‘I think I know what you’re saying,’ Sam said. ‘And trust me, I’m not sure about this either. But I’m not about to harm her or rob her or refuse to move out or anything like that. I’ve already told Emily that if I’m not happy I’m leaving. And I’m sure if she’s not happy, she’ll tell me to leave.’

‘And you’ll go?’

‘Yes, of course I’ll go.’

‘Can I have that in writing?’

Sam shrugged. ‘If you like.’

‘I really don’t think there’s any need to do this,’ I said, but Lydia was already fishing a notebook and pen from her bag. She started to write and I looked across at Sam, who was perched on the edge of the armchair, looking uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘She’s a solicitor.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll sign whatever. Just know that this wasn’t my idea and I have no intention of outstaying my welcome.’

‘Good.’ Lydia thrust the notepad at him. ‘All this says is that you’re staying here as Emily’s guest and that you agree to leave whenever Emily wishes you to. You have no right to stay here beyond that.’

‘Okay, fine.’ He reached for the pad and signed his name at the bottom. ‘As if I would, anyway.’

‘It’s an insurance policy, that’s all.’ Lydia popped the lid back on her pen and put it in her bag.

Sam leaned his elbows on his knees and looked at Lydia from under his brows. ‘You really don’t need to worry about that, you know. And I’m not some psycho. I’m not going to steal from Emily or wreck her place or get violent or anything like that. The only thing I might do is leave early, because it sounds like a right nightmare to me.’

Lydia smiled and reached for a biscuit. ‘So what’s your story then?’ She waved her biscuit hand at him. ‘How did you end up homeless?’

He laughed. ‘I don’t think I want to tell you that.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s none of your business and it has no bearing on anything here.’

‘Well, it kind of does. If you’re an alcoholic or drug addict. Or if you’re violent.’

‘Lydia, leave it!’ I said. ‘Sam, of course you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.’

Sam squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Look, you have my word that I’m not going to get nasty or steal anything. I’m not that kind of guy.’ He rested his chin on his fist. ‘I drink, but who doesn’t? I don’t do drugs. I smoke when I have the money for fags.’

‘If you stopped smoking you might have more money for food.’

‘Fair point.’ Sam shrugged and scratched the back of his neck.

‘What do you do for food. Beg?’

‘There are places.’

‘Where do you sleep?’

He shrugged. ‘Here and there.’

Lydia curled her lip, unimpressed by the lack of information, and Sam laughed again. ‘I’m just doing Emily a favour,’ he repeated.

‘Yeah and it’s such a hardship for you to live in this lovely warm flat when you’ve been living off the streets,’ Lydia said, sarcastically.

‘I didn’t ask for this. Everything has a price. I said when she asked me that it sounds like a nightmare, and it looks as though I was right.’ He looked pointedly at Lydia and then rose to his feet. ‘I could do with a smoke now, actually. Where’s my coat?’

‘On the hook by the door. You can go out onto the balcony.’ I went to unlock the French doors. Sliding them back, a gust of wind splattered me with cold rain and I screwed up my face. ‘Cor, it’s freezing out there! Rather you than me.’ I stood aside to let Sam pass and slid the doors shut behind him.

Turning to Lydia, I said, ‘I think you ought to go, Lydia.’

‘Charming!’ She looked up and glared at me. ‘Here I am trying to protect you and you’re sending me home.’

‘Yes, but you’re making this whole weird situation even more stressful.’

‘Right.’ Lydia got to her feet, swinging her bag over her shoulder and tossing her hair. ‘I’ll go then. But don’t say I didn’t tell you so when it all goes wrong.’

‘I know.’ I followed her as she flounced towards the door. ‘Thank you for coming. I really do appreciate it.’

‘Hmph.’ Lydia flung the door open and stepped into the hallway.

‘Bye then.’

She went to walk off without looking behind but then suddenly doubled back and grasped my hand. ‘Call me, if you need me. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ I smiled at her, grateful for her concern, and she hugged me before striding off down the hall.

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