Page 125 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

‘Yes?’ I blink. Damn. Eyes strayed. Got stuck on that gorgeous smooth curve of her shoulder. ‘Right. Absolutely. On it.’

* * *

We’ve been in the car maybe twenty minutes but from Ashleigh’s vice-like grip on the steering wheel, the more miles we eat up, the more the tension thrums inside her.

‘Where is this wedding?’ I ask, hoping to get her to relax a little. ‘Where’s “home” for you?’

‘Little place outside Rhinebeck.’ She glances to the clock on the dashboard as she names the place. ‘Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours to get there.’

‘On the Hudson?’ I ask, getting out my phone to look up the name she mentions.

‘Mmmn. It’s … small.’

‘And picturesque,’ I say, looking at my phone. ‘This will be great,’ I add enthusiastically. ‘It’s good to get out of the city once in a while and this place reminds me of the village where I grew up.’

‘It does?’

‘Yeah.’ I wish I could take her back there for a visit. I can see us sitting in the beer garden of The Bedraggled Badger, sinking a couple of pints before walking to my parents’ house for Sunday roast.

Woah…

I never hankered for that with Anya. Mostly because we did do that once. Anya spent the majority of the visit on her phone before asking if we could head back to London early so that she could finish up some work. I remember my father’s deliberate neutral expression coupled with my mother’s anxious looks that her son was working too much and not looking after himself. Their worried silence had been deafening.

‘I guess I should mention,’ Ashleigh says, ‘my family can be … I guess … loud would be the word?’

Total opposite of mine then. ‘Well, this has worked out well for you. I’m a great guy to take home to parents. Never met one yet who didn’t like me.’

This produces a quick laugh. ‘I love that you think you’re still on your ex’s Christmas card list.’

She has a point. ‘I suppose Anya’s parents have a skewed view of me now but prior to recent events it’s all been good. I guess, growing up I spent more time around adults.’

‘George, for grownups do you mean medical professionals?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then I think you might be okay as my mother gives every impression of being a fully qualified psychotherapist. This, despite the fact her knowledge comes from every magazine and Reality TV expert you can think of!’

She lapses into silence again.

‘What’s worrying you?’

‘Nothing. Um, so you’re good with loud?’

‘Yep,’ I reassure. It feels good to be able to help her and there’s method to my madness when I ask, ‘So, are we sleeping together?’

‘What the—?’ Her head whips round to mine so fast I worry I’ve given her whiplash. Then, with her eyes back on the road, she demands, ‘You think me turning up at your door on the verge of a meltdown is my seductive way of asking you to have sex?’

‘Well, no,’ I concede, ‘you probably have better moves than that.’

‘Probably?’ She casts me a swift glance and I grin because at least I’ve got her out of being too in her head.

‘It’s for backstory and authenticity when I do the whole’—deliberately I adopt the worst imitation of an American accent—‘Hi, I’m Zach and I knew the minute I met your daughter that as well as being really hot, she’d be very cool with me having little ambition in life other than putting the hours in at the day job before kicking around a football with my bros.’

‘Oh. My. God. Do not say any of that.’

‘Did you know you get a cute wrinkle at the bridge of your nose when you’re stressed?’

She flaps a hand at her nose and continues, ‘And don’t disrespect Zach’s work like that. There’s nothing wrong with being an HVAC technician.’

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