Just the Way You Are (11 page)

The crying had stopped and we could see just how devastated Gwen was. Inky black mascara trails ran down her face and her eyes were red and swollen. It was heart-breaking to see someone so happy and full of life reduced to this.

‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ Max showed his true Yorkshire roots and disappeared into the kitchen to make tea.

I led Gwen into the living room and sat her down on the sofa. She hugged her knees to her chest and lowered her head.

‘How could I be so stupid?’ Her voice was so quiet I almost didn’t pick her up.

‘It’s not your fault; you weren’t to know he was married,’ I soothed. I shuffled along next to her and put my arm around her shoulders.

‘This happens every bloody time though, doesn’t it?’ She uncurled her body and her voice became clearer. ‘I meet a nice guy who has a bit of money, he flashes the cash and I don’t bother to ask any questions.’

‘Maybe it’s time to change your type,’ I agreed. ‘Go for someone who maybe doesn’t have a lot of money but has other things instead. Money isn’t everything after all, is it?’

She sighed heavily. ‘No but at least the people I like are real.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I asked.

Before Gwen could explain herself, Max came through with three steaming hot mugs of tea.

‘Do we need any biscuits or…?’

I shook my head and smiled, beckoning him to sit down. This was textbook Max: he always wanted to feel like he was being useful and helping everyone. That usually involved making industrial amounts of food and many mugs of tea.

‘Feeling better now, Gwen?’ he asked.

She nodded and sniffed loudly before sipping her tea. ‘Much better thanks; this tea’s ace!’

I felt pretty unsettled by what she’d said earlier but decided not to make an issue of it. She was upset and probably hadn’t meant anything by it.

As Gwen regaled us with tales of Tom’s wife Sheree bawling and shouting when she’d found them in bed together, Max’s hand gently slipped into mine. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I liked it being there.

That night, long after Gwen had gone to bed and Max had headed home, I sat on the laptop in search of Mr Writer number two – Adam Johnson. Because he had a common surname, he was proving tricky to pin down. I decided to take a break from it and type up a blog post about that day’s experiences.

Hey guys!

Well I thought I was going to have some great news for you today but unfortunately, my search for Mr Writer is still ongoing. I met up with a guy I thought could be him but needless to say, it was a complete disaster. To put it politely, he was a sleazebag and invited me to a hotel so we could “get to know each other better”. I didn’t take him up on his very kind offer and left. Luckily, my best friend Max was there to make sure nothing bad happened to me. He also provided the comfort food afterwards. Yes ladies, he is single so form an orderly queue!

Even though what happened today annoyed and disappointed me, I’m not giving up. I still have two more guys to track down so hope isn’t quite lost yet and even if they turn out to be nutters as well, I’ll keep looking until I find him. The letters starting up again has made me realise how much he means to me and that I want to be with him more than anything else in the world. That might sound crazy considering I’ve never met him before but when it’s right, you just know. I have a great feeling about him: how could I not when he’s written such beautiful letters to me?

Hopefully I’ll have more updates for you as time goes on. Keep dreaming!

Ava x

I hit the Publish button and sighed happily. I was really enjoying keeping up to date with my blog. It was giving me something to do and was a way of tracking my search for Mr Writer. I looked through some of the comments on my previous post and smiled.

PearlyPops97
–
Go Ava! You so deserve to find this guy, post pics when you do! Xx

GrinchFace
–
Looking forward to reading you journey to find true love. Keep us posted, we’re all behind you.

Leila917
–
Wow, what a great first post! Teeny bit jealous haha, wish I had someone writing me love letters! Really hope you find him Ava xx

‘You know what guys, I think I will,’ I said with a smile.

Chapter 11

Tracking down Adam Johnson didn’t turn out to be that hard. I found him on LinkedIn; he was apparently a freelance social media manager who worked mainly in the creative industries.

‘So does that mean he gets paid to be on Facebook and Twitter all day then?’ Fran asked, craning her neck to look at my computer screen.

‘I suppose it does in a way. It says here he increases a business or person’s public image through social media interaction and engagement.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Not a clue,’ I admitted. ‘He looks fairly normal though, right?’

I turned my screen around to show her a picture of Adam giving a presentation in a smart grey suit. His russet-brown hair was still amazingly wavy and he was every bit as gorgeous as I remembered.

‘Yeah I reckon so. Mind you, aren’t the psychos in movies always really good-looking to lure the main character in? Look at Mads Mikkelsen in Hannibal,’ said Fran.

I ignored her, fired off a quick message to Adam then returned to my main focus of that day: my quirky Valentine’s Day story. The Kiss and Tell Ball was in just over two months’ time and I had no intention of letting Maddie McQueen beat me. I was still in two minds about whether to use Mr Writer as my story, so I’d already started work on one about Ivy and Leo. I pulled up Friends Reunited and my heart sank: no messages as yet.

Earlier that day, I’d made a profile on the website, explaining that I wanted to find a man called Leo Browning who’d travelled to New Orleans in the sixties and met a jazz singer named Ivy St Clair. In some corner of my mind, I’d imagined a message would ping through right away and my search would be over before I knew it.

However, that wasn’t the case.

‘So
this
is your idea of a quirky Valentine’s Day story? Reuniting a couple of crumblies?’

My eyes screwed shut as I realised Maddie was standing behind me. Dealing with her was the last thing I needed that day.

‘They’re not “crumblies”, as you put it. Ivy was a jazz singer back in New Orleans; she fell in love with an Englishman named Leo but he had to come back here to take over his family’s business when his dad died. Sorry if that doesn’t quite meet your exacting standards.’

Anger boiled and hissed inside me. How could she dismiss two such amazing people as “crumblies”? She didn’t even know them or their wonderful story.

‘Anyway, are
you
working on something better?’

Maddie scoffed. ‘Well of course I am; anything’s got to be better than your effort. I’m doing a modern take on the classic Cinderella story; a girl from humble beginnings meets a handsome prince, they fall in love and she goes off to live happily ever after with him.’

‘And that means?’ Fran shot her a withering glance and folded her arms whilst looking skywards. No one could convey disinterest or disdain like her.

‘
I’m
Cinderella, I’m going to find myself a handsome prince and create my very own happy-ever-after. I think I might’ve already found him actually.’

My heart sank even further; that wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. In fact, knowing Maddie, she’d find a way to pull it off in spectacular fashion.

‘Oh yeah, and who might that be? Did Gerard Butler roll into town for the weekend, or maybe Brad Pitt?’ I asked with an innocent grin.

Maddie’s beady little eyes narrowed, making her look increasingly like a crow stalking some unsuspecting prey.

‘For your information, he’s a Premier League footballer with a fit body, plenty of money and a massive crush on me. Are you still chasing after your Mr Writer like a pathetic little puppy?’

A million responses congregated in my head, clamouring for my attention. I couldn’t choose one so stayed silent instead.

‘Thought so. Ciao.’ She departed with a swift rise and fall of her eyebrows and her skyscraper heels clicked along the floor as she left.

I went back to writing my rough draft of Ivy and Leo’s story. The sheer unconditional love that had existed between them leapt off my pages of notes and made me want to cry. It was so rare to find such a true love these days. People were more cynical for one thing; they didn’t believe in butterflies or love at first sight or soulmates any more. Love today was more about practicalities and box-ticking. There were no more “lightning bolt” moments where you just saw someone and knew they were the one, regardless of circumstances. I sighed heavily; I yearned for a love like Ivy and Leo’s but was it just too much to hope for?

A little after lunchtime, a deliveryman came into the office, carrying a huge bunch of red roses.

‘I’ve got a delivery for Ava Clements?’ he said in a slightly nasal voice.

My mouth dropped open in shock.

‘That’s me.’ I put my hand up and he came over to my desk, dumped the flowers then left.

‘Jesus Christ, who are they from?!’ Fran immediately abandoned what she was doing and came over to inspect them.

‘God knows, I’m trying to find a card,’ I replied, lifting the elaborate fronds of foliage and delicate pieces of gypsophila to look for it.

‘Got it!’ Triumphantly, Fran pulled out a little white envelope from the massive pink ribbon tied round the bouquet. She handed it to me to open, the anticipation radiating from her.

‘Come on, come on, it might be from Mr Writer!’ She sounded like a kid at Christmas trying to persuade their mum to let them open their presents.

As I wrestled with the envelope and took in the grandeur of the gesture, something felt off. Red roses were the classic romantic flower; my admirer knew my favourites were gerbera daisies. He’d also never send them to work, unless he was suddenly becoming a lot braver.

No, I thought as I finally burst the envelope open, this was the work of…

‘Nate.’

‘
Nate
?! No bloody way; I told you he fancied you!’

If this doesn’t get your attention, nothing will! Dinner tonight?

Nate x

My first reaction was to giggle nervously. He was still such an enigma to me; I’d only met him a couple of weeks before at Giselle and Aaron’s wedding. Yet I couldn’t deny that something about him intrigued me. There was a mystery behind his slate-grey eyes, just waiting for me to solve it…

‘Surprised then?’

Nate’s voice behind me made me jump almost ten feet in the air. I turned round and saw him: a good-looking, well-built package tied together with a lazy smile.

‘Yeah, definitely; what girl doesn’t love a good bouquet of roses eh?’

Nate’s eyes were fixed intently on me. A heat slowly crept its way up my body and into my cheeks; I knew what he was going to say next.

‘And what about that dinner invitation?’ His voice was a soft, gentle purr that made my spine shiver.

‘Um…’

Fear stole the rest of my words and rooted me to the spot. Here was a
guy
asking me out on a
date
, an actual, real-life, honest-to-God date. I hadn’t been on one of those for a whole year (I chose not to count Gary from Stockport and Greg for obvious reasons). The prospect of going out with someone who genuinely liked me terrified me. It all came down to one basic, primal fear that I couldn’t shake, no matter how hard I tried.
What if I’m not good enough
?

It had happened before, after all.

‘Gonna have to rush you I’m afraid!’ Nate chuckled lightly and his million-dollar smile shrank a little.

‘I-I… I can’t tonight, I’ve got to go costume shopping.’ The words came out in one long string that just about made sense.

He cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. It had obviously sounded as ridiculous to him as it had to me.

‘I’ve got that Halloween wedding to cover this weekend and Miranda says I need a costume,’ I explained.

He nodded and his shoulders visibly slackened, like he was relieved he hadn’t just asked out the town psycho.

‘Another time then, what do you say?’

‘Yes,’ I squeaked. ‘Another time should be fine!’

‘Cool, catch you later gorgeous.’ Nate strode off in the direction of his desk and gave me one final heart-stopping glance as he shrank away.

So that was it: I, Ava Clements, had the prospect of a date. And I was shitting myself.

‘How does this look?’

I stepped nervously into the main area of The Costume Trunk, Manchester’s best fancy dress shop, wearing a pirate costume, complete with bandana and eye patch. It was nearly closing time and the woman behind the counter was looking at me, Max and Gwen as though we’d murdered her cat. My two best mates didn’t look particularly pleased to be there; I’d only invited them after using costume shopping as an excuse not to go out with Nate.

‘Uh, I’m not loving it babe. What about that can-can dancer one you tried on earlier? That one was cool.’

‘The one that made me look like I should be in the red-light district, you mean?’ I replied with a wry smile.

‘I dunno, I think you look a bit like Penelope Cruz in
Pirates of the Caribbean
,’ Max said with a cheeky grin.

‘Ha bloody ha! Come on guys, I need to find something for this bloody themed wedding at the weekend!’

‘Can I just remind you that the shop closes in ten minutes?’ The woman’s voice was stiff and her lips were pursed.

‘Yeah sorry, we’ll be gone soon,’ I promised.

I turned back to my best friends, who were lying in varying degrees of boredom on the spongy seats opposite me.

‘I’ll try on one more costume then admit defeat if I don’t like it; how does that sound?’

‘Go for it,’ said Max. His phone buzzed and he sighed heavily, took it out of his pocket and thrust it back in after quickly looking at it.

‘Everything OK?’ I asked as I browsed through some more outfits.

He flicked his gaze up to me but dropped it back to the scratchy shop carpet. I saw him purse his lips and fiddle with a loose thread on his jacket – not typical Max behaviour.