How Not to be a Bride

I’ve always struggled to remember life before my sister, Annabelle, came along. Beautiful, bouncing baby Belle, who burst onto the scene and immediately became the centre of attention. My only real memory of life before Belle was the night she was born. It was New Year’s Eve and we were all at a party when my mum’s waters broke sometime during the run-up to midnight. Belle was not only born quickly and relatively easily, but she was the first baby born after midnight, which saw her and my mum’s pictures plastered all over the local newspaper. I, on the other hand, came into the world after putting my mum through a gruelling three days of labour, so my mum rarely talks fondly about the day I was born, whereas she has a framed photo of her newspaper front cover with baby Belle on the wall in her living room.

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 – trust me, I get tired,’ he laughs.

‘You’re never too tired for sex,’ I point out, narrowing my eyes.

‘Tomorrow,’ he says, kissing me on the forehead before diving onto the bed.

I nod gently as I think to myself for a few seconds.

It’s funny. When you start dating someone, you try to spend as much time with them as possible, trying to work out whether you like them before you sleep with them – all while they’re trying to get you into bed. But then, once you’re actually a couple, and they can have sex with you whenever they want, it gets to a point where you’re having to practically beg them. At least that’s how it feels sometimes. I suppose life just starts getting in the way, especially when your boyfriend works shifts.

‘OK. Well, I think I’ll take a walk. It’s not even really dark yet,’ I say.

‘You want some company?’ he asks.

‘No, you rest up,’ I reply. ‘Save your energy for tomorrow.’

I walk out, closing the door behind me. I bite my lip, like I always do when I’m thinking. I’m not saying I’m irresistible to men, but I know my boyfriend. Something is definitely up here.

Chapter Three

In preparation for renovating the house we just bought, Leo made me sit through a lot of TV shows about buying houses, fixing them up and decking out the interior. While it wasn’t exactly my favourite way to spend time, I have to admit I learned a lot. I learned that, when it comes to your home, one thing is very important: location, location, location.

My house in LA was in the Hollywood Hills, and it didn’t matter how many times I took in the view from my floor-to-ceiling living room, it took my breath away. This beach house, with its beach for a back garden, is also in a truly amazing location. The house I just bought with Leo, well, let’s just say the location isn’t exactly anything to write home about. We were bound by a few factors, like Leo needing to live close to work, and our financial limits, so when he found us a house that wasn’t tiny or expensive, it seemed like the perfect fit. The reason it wasn’t expensive is because it used to be a student house, situated in the heart of the student village. I didn’t realise a few things when we bought it: one was that the renovations would take so long and the other was that living in a house surrounded by students would be so noisy.

It isn’t noisy here, unless you count the lapping of the waves and the light breeze dancing around on the sand. I used to walk this beach back in the day, when everyone was stressing me out and I wanted to clear my head. There’s a little café down here called Shell’s that I used to go to, but I don’t suppose it will be open at this time in the evening.

I don’t get too far down the beach before I spot something else familiar: Chris, the lifeguard I met while he was working here four years ago. Not only is he still living here, but his golden retriever, Jay, is still helping him keep the shores safe. They’re jogging along the beach, getting closer by the second, and suddenly I feel so self-conscious.

The first time Chris met me I was wearing a tiny nightdress – or maybe it was a tiny bikini. Either way, I had a lot of flesh on show and he had to pick his jaw up from the floor. My long blonde hair was flowing back then and so was my confidence. Now, I no longer have the perfect beach body and the one I do have is hidden under a pair of trackies and a baggy, off-the-shoulder T-shirt. My hair is shorter, darker and scraped up on top of my head, and my easy confidence is MIA.

As Chris approaches I try to psych myself up. So what if I look different? Chris was just some guy I met on the beach who I fancied – I have an incredibly gorgeous boyfriend who loves me now.

I glance up at Chris as he jogs past me with a blank nod of acknowledgement – the kind you’d give to any stranger on the beach. I can’t believe it. He doesn’t recognise me. I don’t look that different, do I? I know I’m a bit out of shape, and fully clothed, which isn’t a state I think he’s ever seen me in before, and my hair is different, but I’m still me and I feel like he spent enough time with me that he should recognise me if he saw me again.

That’s twice I’ve received the cold shoulder this evening and it’s hard not to take it personally. Chris doesn’t recognise me as the girl he knew back then and, now we’re back in the beach house, maybe Leo doesn’t either.

I consider talking to Leo about how I’m feeling but by the time I get back to our room he’s fast asleep. I climb in next to him and close my eyes.

Chapter Four

I exhale deeply as I wait for Leo out on the decking. When we woke up this morning he told me we were going for a walk, so I scraped my hair back up on top of my head, slipped on my scruffy outfit from last night and sleepily made my way outside to wait for him.

My attention flits between admiring the ocean, playing with the sand with my toes, and picking off the remains of my blue nail polish as I wait for Leo to appear.

‘Look at you,’ I squeak as he steps outside. ‘You look amazing and I look like trash.’

Leo laughs.

‘You look great – you always look great,’ he tells me in a way that makes it sound like a reminder, rather than a general compliment.

‘But you’re dressed up,’ I point out.

His hair is perfectly blown back, he’s wearing a crisp white shirt and he smells delicious, like the Creed aftershave I bought him for Christmas that he usually reserves for special occasions.

Leo smiles that devastating smile of his. I am weak for his dimples, even after all this time.

‘Come on, let’s go for a walk,’ he says, taking me by the hand.

It’s a beautiful morning, like something fresh off a postcard. The beach is clear, the sea is calm and the weather is just right. It’s not too hot yet, although it’s set to be a scorcher later today. Were it not for my mum’s compulsory lunch, I could’ve got the tan my body so desperately needs.

‘It’s a shame we can’t stay longer,’ Leo says with a sigh. ‘You deserve a break. It might help with your stress.’

‘I know,’ I reply. ‘We’ll take a proper holiday soon, when all our money isn’t being spent on the house.’

‘I know it’s taking a lot of time and a lot of work,’ he starts, ‘but it’s going to be worth it.’

‘I know,’ I reply. I do know – it’s just taking so much time and money and effort, I kind of wish we’d carried on renting a little while longer.

‘I know work is stressing you out too.’ Leo stops and turns to face me, suddenly adopting a much more serious tone. ‘But you’re happy, aren’t you? With life and with me?’

‘Of course I am,’ I say, placing my hands on his gorgeous face. ‘Yes, the house is a mess. Yes, work is difficult at the moment. But none of that alters the fact that I love you so much.’

‘Good,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘That’s good.’

‘Good,’ I echo.

Leo looks at me for a second, then he smiles. I wish I could tell what was going on in his head. He isn’t always the kind of guy to broadcast his feelings, so I’ll often resort to guessing what’s going on in there. Of course, being the anxious type, my brain always assumes things are much worse than they are.

Suddenly, Leo crouches down on the floor.

‘What are you doing?’ I laugh.

‘Mia Valentina,’ he says, pausing to puff air from his cheeks.

‘Yes,’ I reply in a goofy voice.

Everything clicks in my head a split second before he pulls a ring box from his pocket.

‘Whoa, what are you doing?’ I laugh.

‘Something I should have done a long time ago.’

Leo, who it turns out is down on one knee and not just crouching on the sand, opens the ring box to reveal a silver and rose-gold engagement ring with a big, beautiful, colourful opal stone – my favourite. Is there anything that feels as wonderful as when you realise a man actually listens to you when you’re just babbling about things that aren’t important, like what your favourite stone is?

‘I’ve known I loved you since the second I laid eyes on you four years ago. You’re the most amazing, most interesting, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I can’t believe I haven’t asked this sooner. Will you marry me?’

‘Yes!’ I squeak instantly, without even pausing for thought.

An instant but cautious smile appears on his face.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks.

‘Of course I’m sure,’ I reply, pulling him up from the ground.

Leo slips the ring on my finger before kissing me, grabbing me in his big, strong arms and twirling me around.

Mia from four years ago might have thought marriage was stupid but Mia now just loves Leo so much. It had crossed my mind, just every now and then, what I’d say if he asked, but I never really gave it too much thought. We’d mentioned marriage, but I’d never been able to imagine him pulling the trigger. But now he’s popped the question and it’s the easiest question I’ve ever had to answer.

‘Your folks are going to be over the moon – that’s why your mum is making a special lunch, you know, to celebrate,’ he confesses.

Thank God I didn’t make a scene over the fact we were being summoned for lunch today.

‘That’s very sweet of her,’ I say. ‘And confident.’

‘She knew you’d say yes,’ he tells me. ‘So did I.’

‘Is this why you were so quiet last night?’ I ask, suddenly feeling a lot better about the fact he didn’t want to have sex with me.

‘Yeah.’ He laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. ‘Last-minute nerves.’

I smile widely as I stare down at my ring.

‘This is just… incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it,’ I beam.

‘It’s an Ethiopian fire opal,’ he tells me. ‘It was handmade. There are real little diamonds in the band, but I remember you telling me that opals were your favourite.’

‘I did,’ I say with a smile. I can’t believe he listened and remembered. ‘I just wish you’d given me some warning. I would have made sure I looked less… like a tramp.’

‘Mia, you look great. I’ve never seen you look anything less than great. Even when we’re 80, I’ll still see you as my blonde, bikini-dropping bombshell.’

‘When we’re 80, neither of us will be able to pick up dropped bikinis,’ I reply.

‘Good,’ he replies cheekily.

As we approach the beach house back door, I let go of Leo’s hand.

‘Listen, I’m going to go and smarten up and repaint my nails because if any photos are taken to remember this special day, I don’t want to be looking like this in them,’ I say, pointing down.

‘OK,’ Leo replies, grabbing me for one last kiss. ‘You go get changed and then we’ll tell everyone the good news together.’

‘OK,’ I reply. ‘Won’t be long.’

‘OK, fiancée,’ he calls after me jokily.

I can’t help but grin, like the Cheshire Cat that got the cream.

I reach the top of the stairs and slowly make my way towards our bedroom. Thankfully, although I didn’t have time to paint my nails before we left, I did have the foresight to chuck a bottle of deep-purple varnish into my make-up bag, with the intention of hopefully painting over the chipped blue stuff at some point. This is a move I often pull, to save time. In fact, under the chipped blue polish is chipped red polish that I covered with blue. The blue will cover with this dark purple shade but after that the only colour that will save the day is black, and when that looks messy I’ll have to finally make time to strip off the six months’ worth of polish that has built up. LA Mia always had perfectly manicured nails but Mia now doesn’t have the time or the money for that.

‘Hey,’ Mike calls out as he leaves his room.

‘Hey,’ I reply.

As I reach out to open the door, the light bounces off my beautiful ring, catching Mike’s eye.

‘You said yes?’ he asks, sounding surprised.

I nod.

‘Oh, man. I owe Leo ten pounds,’ he tells me. I hope he’s kidding.

‘So everyone knew?’ I ask him.

‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘But I didn’t think you were the marrying kind.’

‘I could say the same thing about you,’ I point out.

Mike is a tall and skinny guy. He’s had spiked, dyed-black hair for as long as I’ve known him, and with the exception of his wedding suit on Belle and Dan’s big day (which didn’t really look quite right on him), he’s always wearing scruffy clothing. He’s kind of stylish with it, though, so I assume it’s intentional. He has a very unkempt beard now, which makes me think he’s moving with the trends, not that I think he’d ever admit it. Mike likes to act like he doesn’t care about things, but I’m sure he does or he wouldn’t be getting married.

‘Yeah, well, we all fall eventually, right?’

Mike’s use of the word fall reminds me of a conversation Leo and I had before we got together. It was just before Belle’s wedding, when I thought I was heading back to LA in a few days and was doing everything in my power not to fall in love with Leo, because we lived so far apart, and because it had been so long since I’d had a proper relationship I was scared I wouldn’t know how to be in one at all – least of all with someone who lived on a different continent to me. Back then I was writing romantic movies for a living – despite not being very romantically inclined myself – so, after I tried to cool things off with Leo, he countered my decision with some of my own words about love, taken from one of my films. I told him love wasn’t really like walking on air, that it was like jumping off a building, and that it didn’t matter how long you were falling for, it was always only a matter of time before you hit the ground and got really hurt. After bickering for a few minutes Leo finally agreed with me, that falling in love was like jumping off a building, because it was scary and because it took your breath away, but that real love was the person on the ground, waiting to catch you. It’s been four years since he said those words to me, but I recall them all the time because Leo is the person who always catches me. So, even if Mike is right, and I’m ‘falling’ like we all do eventually, I know there’s an amazing man waiting to catch me in his big, fireman arms. I’m not falling, I’m jumping.

I just smile at him. There’s no point trying to explain it.

‘See you at lunch,’ I tell him, disappearing into my room to try and smarten myself up. I’ve got an engagement to celebrate – but what do I wear?

I blast my hair with dry shampoo before applying my make-up and quickly applying a fresh coat of nail polish over my current severely chipped coat – it’s the best I can do at short notice.

I grab a few outfits from my case and try them on in front of the full-length mirror. As I examine my body, I can’t help but sigh. The girl looking back at me is not the girl who looked in this mirror four years ago. Sure, I’ve changed a lot in many good ways, but I’ve put on a little bit of weight, and it’s all in places that show under certain outfits. I used to wear whatever I wanted, but now I have to think about what doesn’t show off the parts I’m self-conscious about. I was a fat teenager, bullied by Belle and her friends for being quiet and a bit weird, which is why I felt so empowered and confident when I moved to LA and transformed myself into someone it felt good to be. Still, everyone goes on a diet before their wedding to look their best in their dress, right? So I might as well start getting in shape now. Actually, I think I’ll start tomorrow. After all, my mum is making a special lunch today, and my life won’t be worth living if I don’t eat it.

Chapter Five

I gently tap my fingers against the keys of my MacBook – not because I’m typing, because I’m stressed. I have just two chapters left to write and then I can send this book to my editor, and I really can’t wait to see the back of it.

When I was living in LA I was part of a team of screenwriters responsible for all the big romcom hits of our generation, but leaving LA meant leaving my job too, and back here in Kent there’s not much call for big-screen romcom writers. I looked into other writing jobs, but writing romantic comedies is what I’m good at, so I transitioned from writing movies to writing novels. Working with a team of screenwriters, I’d be in a sunny city, in a big, fancy office, with a well-stocked table of fresh food put out every morning. I could grab a Starbucks on my way to work, do my job with ease, flirt with my boss’s latest handsome assistant and plan the night’s social events with whichever movie stars were hanging around the office that day. Writing novels is not as social as writing movies. It’s October, so Kent is pretty cold, and instead of being in an office I am in my living room. I’m wearing a onesie because I’m freezing, I’m all alone because, other than emailing my editor or my agent, I work entirely by myself, and I don’t really eat properly, I just grab things when I can.