Page 75 of Always the Bridesmaid

‘Good morning, snorer,’ I say, mockingly. ‘I’ve made coffee.’

Charlie reaches for his khaki shorts and comes to sit on the edge of the bed, the duvet still around him, and pulls on his shorts. I hand him his cup.

Now that we’re both up and dressed, I open the curtains to let in the natural light, revealing the view of the street below – not yet too busy with commuters, and very little sign of tourists. I turn off the lights in the room and turn off the air-conditioning unit, too.

‘Charlie, would you mind if we built some shopping time into today?’ I ask. ‘I’d like to pick up some gifts and maybe check out some British fashion.’

Charlie swallows a mouthful of hot coffee. ‘Oh, that’s good.’ He takes another mouthful, as if his mouth is heat resistant. ‘Not at all, actually. I thought you might want some shopping time and I kept today flexible for that reason. Plus, I couldn’t get us tickets to the Harry Potter studio until tomorrow. I’m thinking we can meet at platform nine and three quarters around eight thirty tomorrow morning. Is that too early?’

I blow on then slurp my coffee, resting back against the small desk in the room.

‘No time is too early for wizards and witches,’ I tell him.

‘I agree, wholeheartedly.’

‘Would you like to have breakfast with me here at the hotel?’

‘Actually, I might leave you to it this morning. You’ve probably seen enough of me for a while anyway.’ He chuckles, then scratches his head. ‘Plus, shopping gets my heckles up like nothing else. Crowds. People bumping into you.’

‘Men are so weak,’ I tell him. ‘I wouldn’t have asked you to stay for breakfast if I’d had enough of you but given you slept in your clothes, you probably do need a shower. I can smell you from here.’

He laughs into his coffee cup. ‘There’s no need for insults. How about we meet for dinner tonight?’

‘Sure, but only if you let me organize this one.’

‘You’re on. Shall I meet you back here later?’

I’m already pondering where to book a table, if they have space. There is still one place left to visit on my to-do list, after the Harrods food hall.

‘I’ll message you later,’ I say.

I get back to my hotel just after four in the afternoon, arms aching from carrying bags of gifts for my friends and parents. It’s the Harrods ceramic jar of cookies that’s weighing me down but my mom would never forgive me if I forgot her ‘fancy British biscuits’. I bought the same for Danny’s mom, too, and have been carrying a jar in each hand, alongside the other gifts, for hours. How I’m going to fit all of this stuff in my luggage, I’ve no idea.

As I walk past the reception desk, the guest concierge confirms there was a cancellation at the restaurant I had in mind. Charlie and I are booked for dinner at 9p.m. We have a bar seat for cocktails from eight.

Back in my room, now cleaned and made up by the hotel staff, I make myself a coffee, indulge in the delicious homemade cookies that are replenished each day, and put my feet up in a wingback chair in the window, watching the street below.

I’m excited for dinner tonight. So much so, I have bought a new dress for the occasion.

After coffee, I’m going to beautify and indulge in the getting-ready process for a change.

A huge yawn visits me as I finish my cookie.

Or maybe I’ll beautify after a nap.

The dash in the cab informs me it’s 7.58p.m.

I step out of my ride outside the towering entrance of The Shard. I look up but even craning my neck, I get no sense of the height of the building from down here.

I’m not a stranger to skyscrapers but I’ve been looking forward to going up The Shard and looking down over the city. It’s a clear night, the sun is going down, and when I bring my gaze back to the entrance, standing in front of me, wearing a royal-blue suit with a flowery blue and white shirt, is Charlie.

The next things that happen to me have been written into every romantic comedy. They are reactions we read or hear acted out and allow ourselves to believe are for dramatic purposes but in reality, think, yeah right. But it’s true: my heart is doing star jumps in my chest, my hands are trembling with excitement, and I’m a ball of nervous anticipation… with clammy hands.

Charlie makes strides toward me and when we are face to face, he tells me, ‘You look incredible.’ His voice is barely more than a whisper.

In an instant, my qualms about spending two hundred pounds on my halter neck, silk red dress are dispersed.

‘You too.’ My words struggle to leave my dry mouth.

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