The Wedding Date (12 page)

‘Nothing.’ I close the website and shuffle a few papers on my desk. Wolfgang will have to wait.

Adam shrugs and sits down at his neighbouring desk. ‘I’ve got the go-ahead for the new social media campaign from Neville, by the way. Katey-Louise tried muscling in on it until I let it slip that she hasn’t even registered for the food festival yet.’ I lift my palm and Adam high-fives it. ‘So if you’re willing to help out next week?’

‘If it gets me out of the office for the day, I’m there.’

It isn’t until that evening that I get to reply to Wolfgang’s message and when I log onto my account, I see there’s another message from William. He’d like to meet up.

With Lauren and Ryan’s encouragement, I agree to my very first online date. I’ve been chatting to William for over a week and I like him. Granted, I’ve only spoken to him via messages on the Love Today website but I’m getting a good vibe from them. It’s clear he adores his little girls and it shows he isn’t afraid of commitment – you can’t get any more committed than children, can you?

‘Remember: stay in public and take things at your own pace.’ Lauren has come round to help me get ready and she’s spent the last twenty minutes drilling the date safety rules into me. I know not to leave my drink unattended, to always let a friend or family member know where the date will be taking place and not to get plastered. ‘And always, always trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, make your excuses and go. If it feels really wrong, just go.’

‘Got it.’ I nod my head over and over again, more out of nerves than agreement.

‘How about this top?’ Lauren, who has been studying my wardrobe during the latter part of the safety grilling, holds out a lace beaded top with a round neckline and three-quarter-length sleeves. ‘It’s cute and sophisticated without being too over the top for a first date.’

‘But it’s cream,’ I point out. ‘And we’re going for dinner. What if I spill food down it?’

‘What if you eat like a grownup and not a toddler?’ Lauren grins at me when I stick my tongue out at her before slipping the top back onto the rail. She rifles through the hangers and pulls out a black sleeveless blouse with a lace collar. ‘This should hide all your food stains. Pair it with some black trousers…’ rifle, rifle, rifle, ‘… like these, and add a bit of colour with your red clutch.’ Lauren grabs the bag from its shelf and hugs it to her chest. She’s always coveted my ruby-red clutch with its dazzling jewelled detailing. It had been a birthday present from Ben and I only use it for very, very special occasions.

‘The red clutch?’ My fingers are itching to take it from Lauren and place it lovingly back on the shelf. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ Lauren places the outfit, along with clutch, on the bed and takes me by the shoulders. ‘This is your first online date and you need to feel fabulous. And nothing says fabulous like a Prada clutch.’

‘But isn’t it a bit much for dinner?’ The bag had been eye-wateringly expensive, hence its rare appearances.

‘Absolutely not.’ Lauren’s grip on my shoulders tightens. ‘Ben bought you that bag and this is your way of saying you’ve finally moved on from the loser.’ Lauren holds up a finger as I start to protest. ‘He is loser, Delilah. How could he not be when he dumped you?’

‘You’re right. He is a loser.’ It feels good to say it, even if I don’t actually believe it. ‘A stupid loser.’

‘A stupid loser with a small willy.’

I sigh and flop back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. ‘He doesn’t have a small willy.’

‘Yes. He. Does.’ Lauren’s voice is fierce. ‘It’s tiny. Like a mini toothpick. It’s not worth the miniscule space it takes up in his Y-fronts.’

Ben doesn’t wear Y-fronts, but I warm to the idea. ‘I’d say it’s a waste of skin, but what can you actually make with a flap of flesh that small?’

‘Poor Eden. Should we send her a massive vibrator as an engagement gift?’

‘And a lifetime’s supply of batteries?’

Lauren and I giggle like a couple of schoolgirls.

‘Seriously though, Delilah. Take the red clutch.’ Lauren holds the bag out to me. ‘This is your way of giving Ben and his controlling ways the finger.’

‘Ben wasn’t controlling.’ I take hold of the bag, remembering the shock and joy when I’d opened it on my birthday. It was a truly gorgeous gift and I adored it.

‘Yes, Delilah, he was. Everything was always his way. Always.’

‘That isn’t true. Not at all.’ As I say the words I’m thinking back over my relationship, trying to pluck examples out of my memories to disprove Lauren. I’m struggling. Ben was quite a character, always so full of energy and ideas and it was difficult not to get caught up in his enthusiasm.

‘You were together for four years. How many times did you go to the cinema to watch a film that you wanted to watch?’

I squirm in my seat. Ben and I had very different tastes in films, so it’s not surprising he didn’t want to see the same stuff that I did.

‘Come on, Delilah. Think of all those comic book superhero films you watched. All the blood and gore and explosions. All the crappy space films and James Bond and hit men blowing everybody’s brains out. There were loads of them, right? But what about the films you wanted to watch?’

I look down at the clutch bag, watching as the sequins catch the light, making it dance before my eyes. It’s true that I watched a lot of films I didn’t particularly want to watch, but I mostly enjoyed them once they got going. But Ben wouldn’t give my films a go, especially if they were musicals. He said musicals were for immature, brain-dead morons. Who went around singing in the bloody streets without being locked away in a mental institution?

Who popped up into space? Or flew across the city skyline in skin-tight costumes looking for people to punch? Not that I’d said that to Ben. I’d just murmured my agreement and said I’d grown out of musicals anyway.

Lauren pats me on the arm. ‘See? Ben’s way. Always.’

‘Annie!’ I suddenly leap to my feet and spin around to face Lauren, who’s still on the bed looking a bit bewildered. ‘We went to watch the remake of Annie.’

‘No, sweetie.’ Lauren is up on her feet too now, reaching out to rest her hand on my shoulder (possibly to prevent me from leaping about some more). ‘We went to see the Annie remake. You and me. And you told me not to tell Ben what we’d seen.’

‘Oh.’ I sit down on the bed again. Yes, I remember now. Lauren had gone to see Into the Woods with me too, though we’d told Ben we’d been shopping.

‘Hey, cheer up.’ Lauren grabs the red Prada clutch and wiggles it in front of me so that the jewels dazzle in the light. ‘You’re not with Ben any more. You’re moving on. So do it in style.’ She holds out the clutch and I take it.

I’m moving on.

By finding a new boyfriend to parade in front of my ex.

My stomach does a funny twirly thing as the taxi pulls up outside the restaurant. What if William doesn’t turn up? What if he does? I already know quite a bit about William through our messages online, but this is completely different and I’m terrified I’m going to make a fool of myself. When we send messages back and forth I have time to think about my answers and come up with insightful questions in return, but this is in real time and the pressure is already getting to me.

But no, I can’t let the nerves win. William is a nice guy. He’s kind and sweet and he’s plunging himself back into the dating game after a long absence too. William is quite recently divorced and this will be his first date with someone who isn’t his wife for over five years. He’s probably feeling just as petrified and twirly-stomached as I am.

‘Delilah?’ I’ve just stepped out of the taxi and am smoothing down my top when I hear my name. I look up and there is William, striding towards me. He’s a bit rounder than his profile picture, but it’s definitely him. ‘Delilah James?’

‘Yes. Hello.’ I stick my hand out and then cringe. Are we supposed to shake hands?

William takes my hand and gives it a brief shake. His hand is warm (but not in a gross, sweaty way) and firm. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you. You look just like your profile photo.’

‘So do you.’ It’s only a teeny white lie.

‘Nah.’ William shakes his head and looks down at the ground before sneaking his eyes back up to meet mine. His cheeks have a pinkish tint to them. ‘About five years ago, maybe. My wife took that photo early on in our relationship.’ He gives his head a quick shake. ‘Ex-wife, I should say. Shall we go inside?’ He indicates the restaurant and we wander inside. I’ve never been here before. It’s an Italian restaurant with gorgeous low-lighting and a vibrant atmosphere. Waiters and waitresses chat with the customers, recommending dishes or local attractions, chatting away like old friends as they take the orders. It feels like a wonderful, friendly place to be and I’m glad William chose this restaurant. Ben would never have brought me here as he isn’t a fan of Italian food. He doesn’t like pasta and thinks pizza is lazy and unsophisticated. He wouldn’t let me buy frozen pizzas from the supermarket and ordering in was a big no no.

William and I are led to a table in a cosy corner of the restaurant. The walls are made of exposed red brick decorated with black and white framed photos of Italy and the tables are laid with cute red and white checked tablecloths. A tea light flickers from a little glass jar in the centre, giving the table a warm glow.

‘This is a great place.’ William and I are seated, menus in hand and drinks are on the way. ‘I’ve never been here before. Have you?’

‘Lots of times,’ William says, smiling at me over his menu. ‘It was our favourite restaurant.’

I assume by ‘our’ he means he and his ex-wife’s, but I don’t ask him to elaborate. It’ll be a bit awkward. ‘The food sounds amazing,’ I say instead.

‘Oh, it is.’ William reaches over to point at my menu. ‘Kaz’s favourite is the king prawn linguine.’

I assume Kaz is the ex-wife but again, I don’t ask him to elaborate. I scan the menu. It really does sound delicious (even the king prawn linguine, but it’d be a bit weird to order that now).

‘I’m not really in the mood for prawns. How is the lasagne?’

‘Good.’ William nods at me over his menu. ‘Quite large though. Kaz could never finish it.’

What a pity for Kaz. ‘The penne della casa sounds lovely. I think I’ll have that.’ I close my menu, hoping William won’t give me Kaz’s opinion on the dish.

‘Are you not having a starter? Kaz always said it wasn’t a proper meal if you didn’t have a starter.’

‘No.’ It takes every last bit of energy I possess not to release the huge sigh that has built up in my chest. ‘I don’t think I will.’

‘No, better to leave room for pudding.’ William grins at me and I’m relieved when he doesn’t follow it up with a Kaz titbit. He closes his menu as the waiter approaches and sets our drinks down on the table. I’ve ordered a soft drink and I’m beginning to regret that decision.

‘Are you ready to order?’ the waiter asks. ‘Or would you like a few more minutes?’

‘No, I think we’re about ready,’ William says, ordering both our meals plus garlic bread on the side. I’m waiting for him to tell me Kaz’s preferences on garlic bread, but it doesn’t happen. Perhaps he’s got it out of his system now. He was probably just nervous and it must be strange having me sitting opposite him instead of the familiar face of his ex. I know I’m finding it a bit weird myself and Ben is always on my mind (though I have the good grace to not talk about him out loud on occasions such as these).

‘So what made you sign up for Love Today?’ William asks.

‘My friends signed me up. I haven’t dated for a while.’ Apart from Dan and Jack, but let’s not dwell on those dating disasters. ‘It’s time I got back out there, you know?’

William nods. ‘I know exactly what you mean. I didn’t think I’d ever date again after Kaz, but I feel ready now. Kaz has moved on and now so have I.’ William’s lips twitch in a half-smile, half-grimace flick. ‘Although Kaz moved on while we were still married.’ William laughs but it isn’t a happy sound. ‘What a sham that marriage was!’

I wonder if I should send Ryan a ‘Code Red’ message. ‘But you have your daughters, so it must be worth it.’

Thankfully, William’s face softens. ‘Yes, absolutely.’ William grins now as he reaches for his wallet, opening it and passing it over to me. ‘There they are. Ella and Lily.’ He points out each girl as he says their name. I was expecting the girls to be identical but while Ella has curly brown hair, Lily has straight, wispy blonde hair and rounder cheeks. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without them.’

‘Who are they with now?’ I ask as I hand the wallet back.

William snaps the wallet shut. ‘Their mother.’ I shouldn’t have asked. ‘And the waste of space who wrecked our marriage.’ Definitely shouldn’t have asked. ‘I don’t understand it, Delilah. I really don’t. He doesn’t even work, just sponges off Kaz. I gave her everything. Everything. I didn’t want her to work, you know. I thought she should stay at home with the girls but she insisted on going back. And that’s when she met him. The new partner.’

‘I thought you said he didn’t work?’ Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? Why was I fuelling this discussion with questions?

‘He used to work. With Kaz.’ William’s nostrils flare as he spits the name out. ‘He was made redundant two months ago. I thought she’d see him for the loser he really is then, but she didn’t. She’s always been a bit thick though.’ William grasps his glass of wine by the stem with a meaty fist and gulps down the lot. ‘Do you want kids, Delilah?’

‘One day.’ I always thought Ben and I would have three children, all close in age so there wouldn’t be any resentment between them.

‘You’re still young. Plenty of time for all that.’ William attracts the attention of a passing waiter and asks for another glass of wine. ‘Kaz never wanted kids, you know. Hated babies with a passion. Said they took over your life. Selfish bitch.’

‘But she loves Ella and Lily now though. Right?’

‘Not enough to stay with their father. To bring them up properly.’ William glares at me and I find myself shrinking back into my seat. I want to point out that I’m not Kaz, that I didn’t screw him over – but my mouth doesn’t want to work. ‘Are you parents still together, Delilah?’