How to Get Hitched in Ten Days (3 page)

‘You’re OCD about cleanliness,’ I replied. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with being a veggie. You even serve chickpea burgers at the diner now.’

‘Excuse me for not being a fan of germs.’ He glanced at me. ‘And yes. Agreed. Thanks to you the diner’s menu rapidly moved into the twenty-first century. I have to admit those Quorn tacos you made the other night were awesome. I guess, all in all, we’re a good match.’

I nodded. But me and Mikey as a couple? I couldn’t think of a funnier idea. Although hands up, when we’d first met, whoosh, the biggest crush hit me out of nowhere. With his protective manner, well-groomed looks and love of white wine, cooking and dancing, he seemed like the ideal man. But after a few weeks living together, I soon realised there would definitely never be any romance. We both fancied the same movie heroes, I liked rugged, hairy chests and he wasn’t into soft fleshy curves.

‘Remember when we first met, exactly… four years ago this March,’ he said, as if reading my mind. ‘Only you could move two days before a new job, and magically expect to find lodgings, just like that.’

‘Ah ha, but I did, what with you just having split up with your boyfriend. You were mesmerised by my explanations of the latest food tests at Chemi-Vate labs and couldn’t believe how many E-numbers existed.’

Poor Mikey. Talk about being in pieces after his break-up. Yet he didn’t talk about it much at first and had taken months to really open up. My flatmate didn’t exactly suffer from trust issues, just… well, talking openly about his personal life had lost him friends in the past.

‘And you couldn’t get over me serving onion rings in cute baskets and hotdogs pierced with mini American flags.’

I smiled. ‘Every morning for a week I visited your diner for pancakes, or eggs easy over with hash browns on the side, and bombarded John with ideas for vegetarian burgers. Then he suggested you rent me your spare room – almost as if it were meant to be.’

Mikey sipped his wine. ‘And maybe it’s fate that you and Dave should be together – why not give the poor bloke another chance?’

‘I just need time.’ Hand trembling slightly, I put down my glass. How could Dave propose to me whilst pissed? Say on our wedding day, we shouldn’t make a fuss? Like I wasn’t special… like our love didn’t deserve a special ceremony with family and friends, with carefully chosen food and music that meant something to both of us? My throat constricted. If he was like that now, what would he be like ten years down the line? Taking me for granted? Cheating on me? Knocking me around, like Dad did Mum? And it wasn’t as if I’d ever thought about marrying him. Not really. Because getting married in her twenties, before any career was established, had proved to be the undoing of my mum.

‘But Jazz–’

‘Mikey! Enough already. Don’t pressurise me. Let me recover from the shock of last night. Okay – he’s great bloke and, and I…’ Thoughts whizzed around my mind. Perhaps secretly I had really thought Dave was the one. Oh God. Here came that sob once more. Inhale, exhale… I sipped my wine. Get it together Jasmine Jarvis – Dave was nothing like your dad. ‘Despite his gruff exterior, he is the gentlest soul and….’ I gave a wry smile. ‘I love his indignation when I tease him about his obsession with Instagram. Do you know his latest thing is taking photos of his feet, in different shoes?’

Mikey pulled a comical face. ‘God help Instagram.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘At least followers can’t scratch and sniff…. look, despite his dose of weirdness, you’ve always thought Dave’s a special guy, right?’ His voice wobbled very slightly. ‘People like that only come along once in a while.’

‘Like the man who’s stolen your heart?’ Poor Mikey. It had killed me over the last few months, to slowly witness his heart break.

Mikey turned away.

‘I love Dave, but… I don’t know. Marriage? At our age? After this, perhaps the shine will start to wear off,’ I said. ‘In fact I’m seriously considering taking that permanent position in New York. I reckon a change of scenery will do me good.’

‘What?’ He turned to face me again and the corners of his mouth dropped.

Leaving Mikey would be as hard as anything. ‘I can’t rely on you to pick up the pieces, every time life throws a tripwire my way.’ My eyes tingled. ‘I’ll miss you like anything but… last night – it’s made my mind up.’

‘It’s my privilege to be your safety net,’ he mumbled and took my hand, lifting it to his lips. ‘Who will I watch trashy documentaries with? And no one makes a mojito like you.’ He stared at our intertwined fingers for several seconds. ‘Okay. Enough with my pity party – it does actually sound fab-u-lous. Sex and the City for real, no?’

We gazed at each other and he gave what looked like a forced smile. I’d made my decision and needed to stick with it. ‘With me gone, the freedom could spice up your love life. And it’s not like you need the rent money any more. Perhaps it would be an opportunity for you to have some fun and move on from your mystery unrequited love.’

‘I’ll just go and get more popcorn,’ he said quietly and wiped crumbs from the duvet cover. ‘Oh, and by the way – sorry, Jazz, I might have let slip to Dave that Chemi-Vate wants you to move to the States full-time.’

‘What? Oh, great. I haven’t even worked out the details yet. Although I guess he has to know sooner rather than later…’

As Mikey went to slide out of bed, for the thousandth time my curiosity felt piqued. Was this object of his affection married? A customer at work? Much older or younger than him? I never liked to push too hard as his eyes went dull and whole body kind of drooped. It had to be serious as when Dave was in a funny mood recently, and practically interrogated him about it, Mikey hadn’t been ready with his usual quick-witted retorts. Yes, the person did live locally. No, they weren’t in the restaurant business. On it went, Mikey answering the questions but actually revealing very little. I sighed. Last night, he’d even spent Valentine’s Day all alone. Life and soul of the party Mikey – it wasn’t right. A change on the domestic scene might do him good as well.

I held out my hand and pulled him back. ‘You know I love you.’ My vision went all blurry. ‘I just think it’s time I challenged myself. Whatever happens, you’ll always be my best friend.’

His fingers tightened around mine. ‘Love you too, Jazz. Forever and for always. I’ll support whatever decision you make. We can text… Skype… and you won’t be able to stop me from visiting the Big Apple. But don’t let last night result in a knee-jerk reaction you might regret.’

I nodded and as he left the bedroom, switched the DVD back on, knowing that tonight, snuggled up in Mikey’s reassuring arms, I still wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. Indeed, several hours later, warm in my flatmate’s embrace, I was still thinking about Dave – how we’d lie talking for hours at night, about the stuff that mattered. How laughing, I’d come back from the bathroom and slide my icy hands down his back. Then, once his hollers had abated, his soft lips would find mine and know exactly what to do, to turn my blood into streams of heat.

Stomach tingling again, I sighed into the darkness. Why did Dave have to ruin everything, by popping the question? I’d be mad, right, to even consider losing any independence, before my career made me really financially strong; before it gave me the means to get out of a marriage that might end up like…? I swallowed, an image of Dad’s cold eyes creeping into my head.

Mikey ruffled my hair and turned over, within minutes snoring slightly.

Dave loved my hair and its natural mouse colour. I’d dyed it until meeting him, due to my father’s words ringing in my ears “mouse by colour, mouse by nature”. He often used to mutter that to my brown-haired mum. It made me determined to stand out boldly, so over the years I coloured my tresses an array of colours – until Dave once said mouse shouted confidence and not caring about anyone else’s opinion. Not that he suggested I stopped my trips to the salon. I smiled. In fact he’d act all amorous if I came home with a different colour – joked it was like having a different girlfriend, every few months.

Yet slowly, I grew out all the dye and now Dave called it a particularly tasty shade of fudge. I stared ahead at the bedside table. My eyes pricked. Yet when it came to his wedding proposal, Dave couldn’t have been less flattering. Mikey gave a loud snore. I snuggled into my pillow. My best friend meant well, but nothing or no one would change my mind. Jasmine Jarvis was moving to New York New York in ten days and that was that.

Chapter Three – Mikey

‘I’m Not The Marrying Kind’ came onto the jukebox, a song from one of my fave Elvis films, Follow That Dream. He sings it to Anne Helm, a gorgeous actress with long brunette hair. Yep. I admit it. Thanks to my parents, I’m a complete Presley Geek. Their retirement trip was to Memphis first, to visit The King’s home, Graceland. What a pity Jazz wasn’t planning to move there. I looked up as the door swung open. Awkward. This song had to be playing just as Dave walked in, hair curled tight due to the rain. I glanced at the clock. Ten to eight.

The last customer finished buttoning up his mac and waved goodbye before heading outside into the black February night. My chest squeezed. Jim had eaten here every weekday evening for the past two weeks, since his wife died. I’d patted his back when he’d told me and, to my amazement, old-school, tweed-cap wearing Jim had leant in for a hug. As for his visits here, whilst I’m a huge fan of fast food, that’s on the understanding that it’s part of a balanced diet. Therefore I’d instructed John to surreptitiously start including a free portion of vegetables alongside his fries and a dollop of fruit on top of his favourite cheesecake.

Sheila, Jim’s late wife, always used to order the same thing when they ate in the diner on a Saturday lunchtime – veggie burger with sweet potato wedges and a strawberry milkshake. She reckoned that meal made up most of her five-a-day. Jazz took full credit for my increasing number of vegetarian customers.

‘You’re late.’

Dave shrugged, raindrops flecked across his cheeks. ‘Tuesdays mean team meetings – always a long day in the office. Then I had to pick up the ingredients.’

No apology from those deep tones but his eyes darted towards the floor. That would do me. I could forgive a lack of manners, due to his current turmoil. Plus I was simply flabbergasted that detached Dave had agreed to meet me alone – that was a first. In the past he’d seemed to avoid my sole company at all costs. Me paranoid? Sometimes, perhaps. But not over this. And… and it hurt.

Finally Elvis’ voice petered out but then aarghh! The next song was ‘America’ from West Side Story – hardly a song to cheer up Dave. He put down a full plastic supermarket bag, took off his coat and sat down at one of the tables. I poured two coffees and joined him.

‘Got nothing stronger than that?’ Dave met my gaze for a brief moment, one eyebrow raised. Then he sighed and looked away. ‘She’s still not replied to my texts or phone calls. Perhaps this plan is stupid. Now it’s nine days and counting until Jazz leaves – that’s not much time.’

‘It’s more than enough,’ I said in a bright voice and shifted in my seat. Loyalty was a right bugger sometimes. It meant I couldn’t tell Jazz that Dave was going to try his very best to win her back; I couldn’t reveal to Dave that Jazz had definite plans now, to move to the States.

‘Stop with the negativity.’ I reached into my apron pocket and took out a notepad and pen. ‘Right, let’s see what we wrote down yesterday, before you dashed off… Jazz’s main interests are dancing and cooking. That’s what we’ve decided to work with, to make her feel special over the next week.’ I cleared my throat. ‘So, what are you going to cook me, as a trial run for dinner with her tomorrow night? And we need to crack on with those dance lessons you agreed to take, so that you can take her out to her favourite salsa bar with a degree of confidence. In fact I’ve–’

His shoulders slumped and he met my gaze again. ‘Is there any point? She’ll never agree to see me so soon after Sunday.’

I slipped my hands behind my head and leant back. ‘Let me worry about that – I’ll tell her to stay in tomorrow, because I’m cooking. Then you can turn up.’

‘She’ll go mad!’

‘Perhaps. That’s a risk I’m willing to take – what about you?’

‘You really do want to help, don’t you?’ He swallowed. ‘Okay. But I’ll play safe with the food and make my signature dish, spaghetti bolognese. Usually I do two portions – beef for me, Quorn for her… but I’ll make the extra effort and also go veggie for the night.’ He pulled a face. ‘I know – it doesn’t compare to your homemade sushi or hummus, so try to keep any sarcastic observations to yourself.’

‘Sweetheart, you have a funny way of showing gratitude. I’m missing my favourite DIY show tonight. This week it’s decking.’ I smiled. ‘Be nice, or Mikey might throw you out.’

‘Skip the pretence,’ he scoffed. ‘Jasmine reckons you only watch it cos you fancy the presenter.’

If it wasn’t for the bags under his eyes and slumped shoulders, I would have thought up a sarcastic response. Instead I grinned. ‘Ha! For your information, I put up those new shelves in my lounge.’

Dave loosened his collar. ‘Really? Oh…. nice job, then. The red makes a change from the black and white theme of the sofa, blinds and walls.’

‘Straight men don’t comment on colour plans, do they? Instead, shouldn’t you observe how level the shelves are or explain to me in detail exactly how many different varieties of bracket I can buy?’ My mouth twitched. Teasing Dave. This was new. Normally we just exchanged pleasantries about the weather or work.

And oh… I felt all fuzzy inside. Dave’s face broke into a smile. Well, almost. The slight upward quirk of his lips was a start, anyway. ‘Now who’s being stereotypical.’ He sipped his coffee before emptying the supermarket bag onto the table. Spaghetti, garlic, salad, ready-made chocolate mousses and–

‘Huh? A pre-prepared dessert?’ I wagged my finger. ‘Naughty boy. I shall have to punish you for that by–’

‘Just having you in my life is punishment enough, believe me,’ he muttered, the usual cloud of unfriendliness descending out of nowhere.

My stomach twisted as if he’d just thrown a physical punch. Ouch. Just when I thought this experience might bring the two of us closer together.