Page 9 of The Day After Christmas
‘Roger that.’ Felicity nodded, then stopped and punched James lightly on the chest. ‘What’s that look for?’
James shrugged, pulling her closer to him. ‘Whoever this guy is, he’s doing something right. I haven’t seen you this animated for a long time.’
Felicity felt her face heating and not for the first time that day.
‘Trust me, it’s nothing to do with him,’ she muttered.
James kissed the top of her head. ‘Takes more than some upstart kid to threaten my ego,’ he said.
‘Ha ha. You? An ego?’
James ran his hand down her side and she felt her skin light up like he’d lit a fuse somewhere deep inside her.
‘You’re gonna pay for that, Felicity Brooks,’ he said, pulling her on top of him.
‘I sincerely hope so,’ she said, all thoughts of Charlie’s dimples swiftly forgotten.
CHAPTER 6
Two weeks later, Felicity sat in a kind of stupor as Bex had her wedding dress fitted and Sophie hovered around her, touching all the dresses on the racks and cooing.
Bex and Sophie had always been there for Felicity, her pseudo-family, as she liked to call them. Since school, the three of them were close-knit, heads together, virtually inseparable. Gradually, over the years, Felicity’s other friends had drifted away, either fed up of her general grumpiness or put off by her refusal to let anyone get close. Although she had very little in common with either of them, these two were the only ones that had never abandoned her, never refused to take no for an answer. Listened endlessly to the same old sad stories about her absent father, her alcoholic mother, her totally miserable upbringing. Until she met Andrea, they were her only friends in the world. Her only family to speak of. Her only anything.
When she and Adam split up that first time, not long after she went to university, Bex and Sophie dropped everything to come up to campus and visit her. They sat up all night while she cried. Bex stayed on for two weeks, sleeping on the floor in her dorm room. Helping her pick up the shattered pieces of herheart. Bringing her dodgy kebabs from the shop at the end of the road. Sophie and Bex had been amazing during that time. It never even occurred to her that they might not be good for her. That it was something you could pick and choose. That there might be other friends out there. Friends who didn’t sleep with her ex-boyfriends for a start.
A fresh wave of nausea washed over her. No wonder Bex had been so keen for her and James to get together. It left her and Adam free to finally see if things were working between them. It left them free to get engaged. Eugh.
‘You okay, Fliss?’ said Sophie, who was now standing, hands on hips, staring down at her.
‘Oh, yes. Fine. Sorry.’
Sophie flopped down into the chair beside her.
‘Don’t be sorry, you just look a bit pale, that’s all.’
‘I’m fine.’
Sophie squeezed her hand. ‘Doesn’t she look amazing?’ she said, nodding towards Bex.
‘Hmmm? Oh, yes. Beautiful.’
And she did. Bex’s long dark hair was brushed to perfection, flowing down the back of a tight-fitted deep-red corset, overlaid with lace, leading into a long cream silk skirt. She looked like a model. Felicity had always felt slightly awkward next to Bex, never more so than now. She was shorter, rounder, paler. She made a mental note not to stand too close to Bex on the dreaded wedding day. Maybe she could be the type of maid of honour who stood at the back of the church instead? Was that a thing?
‘What do you think, ladies?’ said Bex, as if reading her thoughts, swirling to face them, dress following her movements with an elegant swish, swish.
‘Teal is the way to go,’ said Felicity.
‘I meant about the dress.’
‘You look stunning,’ said Felicity and Sophie practically in unison.
Bex narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you two been rehearsing that?’
‘Only for half an hour or so,’ Sophie said and laughed lightly.
‘Well, thank you kindly.’ Bex gave a low curtsey, then put her hand to her chest and giggled. As she lifted her head, something caught her eye through the enormous window behind them, and she squealed in delight.
‘What is he doing here? Tell him to get lost, would you? It’s bad luck, it’s bad luck.’
