Lindsey Kelk 5-Book 'I Heart...' Collection (176 page)

The shed was far more inviting in daylight than it had been a few nights before. Dad had done a nice job of kitting it out. If the worst came to the worst, I could probably hide out in here for what, a few months? The first thing I did was open the contraband drawer. I ignored the tin of terror and instead grabbed the little bottle of whisky he had hiding in there. Just in case.

I watched Mark emerge from the conservatory, presumably looking for me, clutching his shattered hand. I shrank away from the window and waited for him to leave. But he didn’t leave. He just stood in the middle of the garden like, well, like a spare prick at a wedding. It was apt. But he didn’t stand there on his own for very long. A couple of seconds later Graham appeared. Followed by Craig. Followed by Alex. I wished I could have been distracted by how handsome Alex looked on his wedding day, because he did. His suit was the perfect shade of blue and fitted him perfectly. Graham and Craig were equally well put together, both wearing sunglasses, both laughing. Only Alex wasn’t laughing. Alex was too busy staring at Mark.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked, walking over to my injured ex. Alex cocked his head to one side, letting his hair fall out of his eyes to get a better look.

‘Please don’t recognize him, please don’t recognize him,’ I whispered, gripping the windowsill with one hand, the flask of whiskey with the other.

‘Um, I was just … well now,’ Mark blustered, doing his very best Hugh Grant impersonation. ‘You must be Alex.’

‘Mark, right?’ Alex pointed and smiled. ‘Angela’s ex.’

‘That would be me.’ He held out his hands and laughed.

Alex laughed too. And then he punched him in the face. Mark fell to the ground and stayed there. I jumped up from my hiding place and flung open the shed door.

‘Alex,’ I shouted, legging it across the lawn. ‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Angie.’ Alex looked at me and then looked away, covering his eyes. ‘I’m not supposed to see you before the wedding.’

‘And neither of us is supposed to be punching people,’ I pointed out. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What am I doing?’ He turned away from me while he was yelling. ‘What was he doing here?’

‘Yo, Angie.’ Craig raised a hand in greeting. Graham did the same before I could answer. ‘Great dress.’ They grabbed the prostrate Mark under the arms and dragged him back into the house without another word.

‘It’s all just such a cock-up,’ I said, poking a bit of glass with my foot. ‘And now someone is unconscious. Amazing.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He still had one hand over his face. ‘Shit. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s just that you didn’t need to.’ I waited for him to uncover his eyes. ‘I’d already done him once.’

‘Yeah?’ Alex pulled a half-smile. ‘You hit him?’

‘Broke his hand with my shoe.’ I waved my shoe in the air with embarrassed triumph. ‘It’s officially my signature move.’

‘That’s my girl.’ He stuck his hands in his pockets and squinted. ‘Is that whiskey?’

‘Oh.’ I hadn’t realized I was still holding it. ‘Yeah.’

Alex held out his hand and I tossed it over. ‘So what’s going on?’

‘Um, my dress is broken, the lights exploded, the speaker system blew up, the cake is a big fuck-up, the caterers have gone AWOL and my mum only wanted us to get married because she thought I was pregnant.’

‘Wow.’

‘Yeah.’

We stood in the garden looking at each other for a moment.

‘Why is there a man asleep on the kitchen floor?’ I heard Jenny yell from the kitchen. ‘I quit! OK? I quit. I can’t do this.’

‘And Jenny quit,’ I added.

‘So it’s not total smooth sailing?’ Alex asked, looking around the garden at the glass in the grass. When the sun caught the shards, it really was quite pretty. Shame it would probably kill someone.

‘When you thought about our wedding before we came to London …’ I said.

‘Uh huh?’ Alex threw the bottle of whiskey back to me.

‘Is this how you imagined it?’

‘I don’t think I had you in an NYPD sweater,’ he shrugged.

‘Seriously.’ I tried not to smile. ‘How did you imagine it?’

‘Seriously, I guess not like this.’ He gestured towards the building site of a garden. As if on cue, the brass band kicked in with a curious version of something I believed was SexyBack. Justin Timberlake would spin in his grave. If he was dead.

‘It’s not really what I’d imagined either.’ I looked at my shoes and frowned. ‘Maybe the shoes. The rest of it not so much.’

Alex took a step closer and held out his hand. ‘Hey, Angela,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Wanna get out of here?’

I paused, looked back at the garden, looked into the house.

Click. Flash.

I took his hand.

‘Let’s go,’ I nodded.

Three months later …

The aisle looked really, really long.

Can you put weight on around your ankles? I wondered. Have I got muffin-top on my toes? My shoes really hurt. Should have worn flip-flops.

But it was a pretty day for a wedding.

The heat wave we’d had for the last couple of weeks had broken and New York had given me the gift of perfect seventy-degree weather. I stood in the doorway blowing out cool, calming breaths and switching my weight from foot to foot. I never wanted to take these shoes off, no matter how painful they might be.

‘You doing OK?’ Jenny looked at me with a soft smile and straightened a curl. ‘Need anything?’

‘Nothing.’ I shook my head. ‘Got everything I need.’

‘Well, you look pretty good,’ she laughed. ‘And that’s really all that counts.’

‘You look OK yourself,’ I replied, squeezing my bouquet. ‘You both do.’

‘I’m just glad that dry-cleaner could get the baby sick out,’ Louisa said, pawing at a nonexistent stain on her dress. ‘I have to find out what they used to remove it − that stuff is like tar.’

‘I’m just happy my dress fits.’ I looked down at my brand new, made-to-measure Sarah Piper dress and gave a little shimmy. ‘No jumper necessary.’

‘No jumper, no ex-boyfriends, no fucked-up lights, no giant cupcake and no absent caterers,’ Jenny confirmed. ‘I’m on top of it this time.’

‘I still think that cake was pretty brilliant,’ Louisa said. ‘And, quite frankly, delicious.’

‘It was delicious,’ I admitted. I would know. I had eaten a lot of it. I will accept that no one was expecting to spend that afternoon sitting cross-legged on my mum’s living room floor in formalwear eating a cocked-up wedding cake, but as Saturday afternoons went, it was actually one of my favourites. After Mum and Jenny had turned all our guests away, using the delightful excuse that I had food poisoning and ‘it was coming out of both ends’, we all managed to calm down a little bit. Uncle Kevin was heartbroken, but everyone else was terribly English about the whole thing. I didn’t imagine I’d be on a lot of Christmas card lists in December, but I didn’t imagine I really cared.

Once we’d seen everyone off, Delia and I had toasted the magazine, Graham and James had got along far too well for boys that already had boyfriends, Sadie demonstrated her secret talent for the trombone, and she and my dad treated us to a little duet of some of my favourite show tunes. Jenny and Craig made sure someone made the most of the honeymoon suite, while Louisa and my mum kept everyone up to the eyeballs in hot tea. They were in their element. Which just left Alex. He and I had spent a couple of hours bonding with Grace, and I had to admit it had gone some way towards recharging the batteries in my biological clock.

‘Are you girls finished gossiping?’ My dad knocked on the door with a smile. ‘I think they’re ready for you.’

I nodded, suddenly lost for words. This was it. It was happening. I felt nervous and scared and almost certain that Alex was going to dive into the East River at the last minute. Dad held out his arm and I took it, trying not to cry. If I messed up my make-up now, Jenny would kill me. The girls went out ahead, Louisa with Grace in her arms, Jenny with a skip in her step. Their escorts, Graham and Craig, were waiting outside and I tried not to notice Craig slapping Jenny’s arse as they went by.

‘Saucy,’ my dad commented. I had not inherited my sense of blind denial from him. ‘Shall we?’

‘We shall,’ I nodded, taking my first step into the sunshine. ‘Um, Dad, thanks for all this.’

‘All of what?’ he asked.

‘Coming out here, being OK with the whole abandoned wedding thing. Not bringing the rest of the brass band.’

‘I’ve got my trumpet back at the apartment.’ He patted my hand and led me out. ‘Don’t tempt me, madam.’

‘Noted.’

‘But you know your mum and I are just happy you’re happy,’ he went on as we walked towards the music, towards the water. ‘That’s all that matters to us, love.’

‘And happy I’m not pregnant,’ I added. ‘Yet.’

‘Maybe in a couple of years, eh?’ he replied as we reached the small group of friends gathered around the aisle. ‘Here’s your man. The future Mr Angela.’

‘Can’t imagine he’d appreciate being called that.’ I blinked into the light and wished I had the balls to be one of those wanky city brides who wore sunglasses. ‘But he’ll get used to it.’

Everything was perfect. Under the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, I locked eyes with Alex and all my nerves went away. Part of me saw my friends and family lining the aisle I was about to walk down − Erin and Thomas and their tiny baby. Sadie, James, Mary, Delia, Uncle Kevin, Vanessa, Alex’s manager and his creepy old roommate − but they could have been complete strangers at that moment. All I saw was Alex. Part of me saw the Manhattan skyline behind them, the Statue of Liberty waving her torch to try and get my attention. She was failing. I could only concentrate on not falling over and getting to the end of the aisle.

‘Hey.’ Alex looked as happy as I’d ever seen him as we reached him. ‘You look nice.’

‘You look all right yourself,’ I said, relieved that my voice was still working. ‘Bit overdressed, maybe.’

‘I was going to say the same to you,’ he whispered.

The sun bounced off his hair until it shone almost blue, and he already had pink spots on his pale cheeks where he’d forgotten to put on his sunscreen. I was almost surprised how strongly I felt as I took him in. I woke up next to him every day, he was mine already, surely? But it felt as though I’d been holding him by the edges, just pinching the corners and hoping he wasn’t going to blow away. Here, now, it felt like I was holding on to him with every ounce of myself and he was doing the same.

‘This old thing?’ I couldn’t manage more than a choked squeak. ‘Had it ages.’

‘Bloody kids.’ Dad gave me a kiss on the cheek and shook Alex’s hand. ‘You’re a pair, that’s the truth.’

‘Thanks, David.’ Alex was solemn for a second. ‘It means a lot to us that you’re here and that you’ve been so welcoming. I feel like I’m not just getting Angela, I feel like I’m getting a family that I never had before.’

‘For the last time, Alex,’ he said, slapping his arms round his back in a big manly hug, ‘it’s Dad.’

And that was when I started crying.

‘Alex and Angela have asked you all to be here today to witness their wedding,’ the officiant declared to the crowd. ‘Because you have been part of their story. You have been there for them in the good times and the bad.’

Alex gripped my hand and squeezed. I nodded, biting down on my lip, destroying my gloss job and trying not to sniff too loudly. Sniffing wasn’t hot. I also hoped this guy wasn’t going to dwell on the ‘bad’ part. Move on, already.

‘I love you,’ Alex whispered while the officiant went on.

‘And I quite like you,’ I whispered back, getting a slap on the arm for my cheek. ‘Fine,’ I tutted. ‘I love you too.’

‘Today they start their adventure as husband and wife, promising to stand by each other, to care for each other and to love each other. Today they start a new chapter of their story together here with you, here in New York.’

I looked at Alex and then out at the city. It twinkled more brightly in the summer sun than any number of fairy lights.

Well, I thought to myself, if you were going to start a story anywhere, where else would you go?

THE END

This never really seems enough but a thousand thank yous to Rowan Lawton – super agent/enabler/general favourite person. Samesies to Lynne Drew and Thalia Suzuma, thank you for being so patient and so helpful and generally helping this book (and all the others) exist. I can’t thank HarperCollins enough – everyone in the UK, everyone in the US and especially everyone in Canada (especially, especially Emma Ingram and Paul Covello who I still owe $30). More thanks to Charlotte and Kasie at Marie Claire – working with you makes me happy.

There are so many people who deserve a thank you-slash-hug-big-drink for keeping me alive during the writing of this book: Della, Jackie, Sarah, Ana Mercedes, Beth, Ryan, Sam, Ilana, Rachael and, good God, loads more people. I’ll thank you in person with booze. People I can’t thank but were also important include The National, Camera Obscura, The Muppets, the cast of Breaking Bad and WWE Superstar, CM Punk. Long story.

Last but not least, I want to thank all Twitter buddies for convincing me I’m not mad when I’m sat in a Vegas hotel room writing a book at four in the morning. Big shout out to #TeamKelk and everyone who has taken the time to say hello. It means a lot.

KEEP READING _ I Heart Christmas

Angela’s planning her very own fairytale of New York …

Enormous Christmas tree

Eggnog

Eccentric British traditions

Gorgeous man

But Santa’s throwing her a few curveballs – new job (as if it’s not mental enough already), new baby-craze from her best friend Jenny, and new husband determined they should grow up and settle down. Once friends start turning up uninvited on her doorstep (and leading her astray), can Angela really have a merry little Christmas? So much for happy holidays – something’s got to give …

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About the Author

Lindsey Kelk is an author, journalist and prolific tweeter.

Lindsey loves living in New York, expensive shoes, professional wrestling and wondering whether or not it’s time for bed. Lindsey dislikes too much frosting on a cupcake, being so far away from London, spiders and not being in bed. Lindsey is indifferent to sushi and dogs that are smaller than a cereal box.