Page 48 of The Bad Wedding Date

Yeah, I’d had enough.

Tomorrow would hurt.

But something about Fraser’s switch in behaviour since that intimate dance was starting to piss me off, and I wasn’t the kind of woman to let a guy freak out on me and blame me for his own insecurities and issues. I’d been there one too many times before. Never again.

“With all due respect, Fraser, I’m a grown woman,” I said, not backing down as I stared up into his eyes. “If I want a drink, I’ll have one, whether that’s with you, Matteo, my family, or on my own. I make those decisions. Nobody else. You’re my fake date, not my conscience, so please don’t forget why you’re here.”

With that, I stormed off on shaky legs, hoping he’d follow…

Worried he wouldn’t.

Wondering how everything had gone so wrong in such a small amount of time.

14

Fraser

Ipushed through the end stall in the men’s bathroom, slamming the door to the wall before I bolted it shut behind me. The only thing I needed was a minute: a minute of silence, to focus, to wrap my head around the shitshow that was this day. Leaning over the toilet, I pressed my hands to the cool tiles of the wall and closed my eyes, going to the place I felt the safest.

“Do you promise to remember me even when I’m not next to you?” she whispered against my blond hair as we laid in bed together—her propped up against the headboard, me tucked under her arm with my head resting against her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat.

“Yes, Mum.”

“Even when I’m thirty?”

“Even when you’re forty.”

“What about fifty?”

“Even when you’re fifty plus ten.”

“I’m never making it to sixty, Fraser.”

“Yes, you are.” I smiled, staring down at the fluffy bear I’d had since birth in my arms. Mum always said she’d never make it to sixty because she couldn’t stand the idea of being old. “You have to because you won’t see me being a professional footballer if you don’t.”

Her fingers stroked my hair, making my eyes heavy. “That’s true. I do want to see you playing football. And then I want to see you married—”

“Urgh.”

Mum laughed. “I want to see you married and having babies.”

“Mum, stop,” I groaned, the eight-year-old version of me not ready for that kind of talk. Girls sucked, and I wasn’t ever getting involved with them. I saw what relationships did to both people. I’d witnessed men get angry and violent while the women became weak and sad. It was all I’d ever known with Mum, and I hated it. I saw how a man and a woman together brought the worst out in those involved, and I never understood why anyone would put themselves through it. Mum was always happiest when she was alone… like now. It had been three months since her last boyfriend. Three months since she’d finally watched someone else walk out of the door without a fight.

It had been the best three months of my life.

“I don’t ever want a girlfriend,” I told her. “I don’t ever want babies.”

“Oh, you must, Fraser,” she whispered against my hair. “You must let yourself have children. It’s the most wonderful journey. Terrifying, strange, overwhelming, tiring… but there’s no other love like it. You’d take a dagger to the heart a hundred times over to protect those babies of yours. And if you’re lucky and you find a woman you really adore, you’d do the same for her, too.”

“Sounds like hard work.”

“Hard work isn’t something you should be afraid of. Hard work makes for a good life. Don’t be lazy. Don’t sit on the sofa and play it safe. Go out there. Wreak havoc on your heart. It’s risky, sure, but a life without risks isn’t a life at all. All you’re doing then is just waiting to die. That’s no fun. You’ve got to have fun.”

“What if it’s scary?”

“The scarier the better. You’ll know you’re a real man if you can handle fear and make it work for you instead of against you.” Her fingers stopped, and she moved them to my chin before tilting my head up so I could see her pretty face. She was tired, Mum, but beautiful, too. “I’m only twenty-nine, and I’ve seen a lot of men who were too scared to be in love.”

“Is that why they got nasty and cross all the time?”

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