Page 1 of Textbook Romance

PROLOGUE

Jack

There are things I fear in this world. Never being able to afford to buy somewhere to live. Exceptionally large and unpredictable spiders. Undercooking chicken. War. But right now, to that list, I’d like to add wedding seating plans. I don’t like how they give you no warning, no chance to prepare. You just walk up to that easel, find your name and sit where you’re told. That’s when the panic settles in. Who am I sitting next to? Where they’ve placed me is going to determine how the rest of the night pans out, isn’t it? Am I destined for an evening of indigestion and boredom? Have they put me next to the party animal who tops up everyone’s glasses and heckles during the speeches? Have they sat me next to Grandma? Will I have to help her put her teeth back in?

‘The Mandalorian,’ a voice pipes up next to me. ‘What’s a Mandalorian?’

I look round at the woman standing beside me, elegant in a teal jumpsuit, her brown curly hair pinned back loosely, big gold earrings framing her face. She points towards the table nearest the bar with the coolest name on the board. Lucky lady.

‘It’s the Star Wars dude. Pedro Pascal. I thought all the ladies loved Pedro Pascal these days?’

Her expression tells me Pedro is not on her radar. ‘I know Harrison Ford?’

‘Yeah, he’s a bit like him, but with a big helmet.’ For some reason, I think it’s a good idea to pull a pose like I’m firing a space pistol. I hope my suit forgives me for that. That might be the lone glass of Prosecco I’ve had. I didn’t have breakfast today. I got up, threw on a suit and grabbed a couple of ginger snaps off a counter, certainly not enough to sustain a full day of drinking in this cool boutique hotel with its courtyard and fancy cocktails.

She looks at me curiously and raises an eyebrow. ‘Gotcha. A big helmet?’ she asks, though the blush in her cheeks tells me she immediately regrets that question.

‘It’s sizeable,’ I explain, breaking into a smile. ‘Very shiny. Not too large. You can’t do anything with a large helmet. Very impractical…’

She grins widely, looking grateful that I’m playing along. I take in the angles of her smile, her dimples, the warm vibe about her.

‘This is true.’ She stands back as if she’s assessing me in my Zara suit. A suit that looked much better on the model online. On me, you sense that if I stood too near an open flame, I’d go up like a roman candle. ‘So, tell me, how do you know the happy couple?’ she asks me.

‘I went to uni with Ed. We shared a house at one point. You?’

‘We teach at the same school. I’m Zoe.’

‘Jack,’ I reply as she puts her hand out to greet me. Married. Not that I was looking for a ring, but I can’t help but see it as she does a very kindly gesture where she places a hand over the handshake. Like a hug shake. Her hands are super soft.

Zoe smiles at me. ‘It was a lovely ceremony, wasn’t it? Did you cry? I cried,’ she tells me. ‘But then I’m a crier.’

‘I didn’t, but it was certainly moving. They’re a cute couple. Would you think I was weird if I said I was also particularly keen on her bouquet? It was very en vogue.’

Zoe pauses for a moment, still smiling. ‘It was. So, tell me what else is trending in weddings, Jack?’

‘A sage palette, Asian inspired appetisers and eco-friendly favours,’ I say snootily, surprising myself. I really need to review my Netflix viewing habits. I watch far too many people getting married at first sight or saying yes to the dress.

Zoe laughs through her nostrils. ‘You’re very funny, Jack. Where are you sitting?’ she enquires, scanning the print for my name. ‘Jack…?’

‘Damon,’ I inform her.

‘Jack Damon… Jack Damon. No, you’re on…’ We both squint our eyes, looking at the font of my table name then looking at each other.

‘Fuck…?’ I say, biting my lip.

Zoe bursts into laughter, putting a hand to my shoulder. It’s nice that she’s comfortable with me. I guess she’s also had some Prosecco. ‘Was he in Star Wars, too?’

‘It’s Puck,’ pipes in another lady, joining us, looking resplendent in a floral maxi dress. She reaches over to kiss Zoe on the cheek. ‘The printer did them dirty on the font. She likes Shakespeare, he likes Star Wars. It’s their thing… You’re not Brian,’ she says, pointing at me.

No, I am not.

‘Oh no, this is Jack,’ interrupts Zoe. ‘He went to uni with Ed. Jack, this is one of my colleagues, Beth. Brian’s away with work so I’m flying solo.’

I earwig, assuming Brian to be the husband.

‘Well, nice to meet you, Jack. I didn’t realise Ed had friends. Do you have stories? Do tell.’

‘Oh, I’m letting the best man tell all. He has a great one involving a fan.’

---