Pride and Premiership (24 page)

“Where’s your boyfriend then?” he asked.

“I don’t have one.” I couldn’t have told him quick enough. He looked pleasantly surprised.

“Well … maybe we should meet up,” he said. “Go see the ruins or something. If you’re up for it, of course?”

And I thought,
Of course I bloody well am!

I can’t believe that in an hour I’m going to have to say goodbye to the best guy I’ve ever, ever, ever met. And I don’t know whether to tell him that us lying on his hotel bed last night and him telling me we shouldn’t go any further until we’re back home in the real world, then holding me in his arms until the sun came up, was most definitely number one in the top-ten moments of my life. How do I tell him that?

Or that five of those top-ten moments have been in these past two weeks: visiting the ruins at Halicarnassus with him (one of the seven wonders of the world), our first kiss on the beach (when I realized those luscious lips weren’t just for show), when he told me he may be only twenty-two but he’s met a lot of girls and I’m the only one he wants to be with twenty-four hours a day, and the moment when he said he might be moving to London in the new year and would love us to continue seeing each other.

“If you’re up for it, of course,” he added in his shy way.

This time I knew him well enough to say, “Too bloody right I am!”

I love so many things about Stephen, but one of the best things about him is that he doesn’t look bored (like Robbie used to) whenever I speak about the salon. In fact I think he actually likes the idea. And I know it sounds corny, but I really believe that Stephen was sent to me by the universe, because he’s made me realize that Spencer and Robbie and everyone else I’ve ever gone out with – or had a crush on (even YOU, if you’re reading this, Mr Leonardo DiCaprio) – weren’t right for me. Stephen Campbell is most definitely THE ONE.

I couldn’t help it. When Stephen came to the hotel to say goodbye, I burst into tears.

He hugged me, and as he squeezed me tight, he whispered in my ear, “Don’t cry, gorgeous, we’ll be together in a few weeks.”

“I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” he said. And when he kissed me it felt like the ground fell away and I was floating on air.

Well, I’m back. Knackered. And the first person I texted when I landed was Stephen.

Me:
I’m home baby.

Stephen:
Welcome back but you should be here, in Glasgow. With me. x

I phoned Malibu and told her all about Stephen.

“What does he do?” she asked.

“He’s between jobs at the moment,” I replied. “But he does a bit of this and that.”

“This and that? What the hell does that mean?”

“I dunno, sells cars sometimes and computers, and … he didn’t really go into it,” I admitted. “But he’s not a criminal or anything.”

“You HOPE,” she said.

“No. I… I just KNOW,” I replied.

I’ve been summoned to a meeting with Dad and Uncle Pete. And Dad didn’t sound too happy over the phone. Maybe the bank won’t give them the loan.

Dad began the meeting.

“Which do you want first? The good news or the bad?”

I started to get scared. I’d always known they might not get the loan, but now I suddenly realized I had no idea what else I could do with my life. I’d set my heart on the salon.

“Have you heard from the bank?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

I took a deep breath. “In that case … the bad news first.”

“Well,” he began in a serious tone, “the best way to put it is that the next six weeks are going to be really tough for you – but I’m sure you’ll start moving forwards after that.”

“I’m sure you will,” agreed Uncle Pete.

“Oh,” I groaned as all the life was sucked out of me, “you didn’t get the loan.”

“No,” said Dad. “We DID!” Then he opened his arms and threw them around me, laughing, as Uncle Pete stood in the background and beamed.

“Dad! You are so–ooo going to burn for that!” I told him with the biggest grin ever known to man.

I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but
I am going to open a salon in six weeks! Ama–aaaaaaaaazing!!!

Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! I am now eightee–een. Happy birthday to me!

Today I’m going to buy paint for the salon now that I’ve employed a painter/decorator and decided on the colour scheme (matt white with a deep-pink back wall, just like in my dream).

Tonight I’m going out with Kellie, Jack and James, but I’m going to take it easy and only have a couple of drinks because I have so much work to do.

Can’t believe that just when I can finally legally go out on the lash, I have to be a sensible businesswoman who’s on top of her game. (Interviewing potential beauticians tomorrow!)

Just been delivered a beautiful bunch of red roses. Fifty of them! They’re from Stephen, and in Mum’s opinion they must have cost him a bomb. I sent him a text:
Thanks for the flowers. I love you sooo much!

And he sent back:
You deserve it. And I love you too. X

OMG. I’ve just had a call from Robbie!

In my head I’d gone through this moment a thousand times. I’d see his name flashing up on my phone, laugh like a cartoon villain – Remy de Vil, hah! – then thrust my hand down on the end call button with all my might.

In real life I had a bit of a panic. But wanting to hear what he had to say got the better of me, so I answered it but with a bit of attitude. “Yeah?”

“Happy birthday, princess,” he said. And I admit, hearing his voice made me soften a little (well, on top of him actually remembering my birthday).

“Thanks,” I replied.

Then there was a lo–oooong pause when I didn’t know what to say. Then Robbie eventually spoke again.

“I want you back, princess,” he told me. “And I’m willing to do what it takes. I’ll dump Chloe. OK?”

That was another moment I’d played in my head – the one where he comes back on his hands and knees begging for another chance and I tell him to go take a running jump. But again, in real life it didn’t feel that simple.

“Um… I don’t know what to say,” I replied as a feeling of love began to surge through me – only it wasn’t love for Robbie, it was love for Stephen. And if I ever needed proof that I wanted to be with Stephen, I suppose this was it. I knew exactly what girls like Malibu and Paris would say – get back with Robbie and live like a real princess, never having to worry about money again. Yet here I was about to reject a big-earning footballer for a man who’s between jobs … but who just happens to be the man I love. Maybe it was stupid and maybe I’m going to regret it, but I said, “It’s nice that you called, Robbie, but I’ve met someone else.”

Robbie had the cheek to snap back, “Well, it’s your fuckin’ loss.”

What a tosser!

Christmas Day tomorrow. It’s not usually my favourite time of year (turkey – yuck!, Brussels sprouts – even yuckier, and don’t even mention bloody mince pies!). But this year is different because I’ll finally get a break from work on the salon. Been doing twelve hours a day flat out! Plus, this morning Stephen texted to say his job opportunity has come off and he’s definitely moving to London! He’ll be here on New Year’s Day and it’s the best Christmas present ever.

Merry Chri–iiiiiiiistma–aaaaas!

Already sent a dancing Christmas tree text to all my phone contacts. And a loved-up one to Stephen.