justified in his huff didn’t help me. It still felt overwhelming – starting a business, moving in together, the first ‘I Love You’
and
a chicken cook-in sauce? Who did he think I was, Beyoncé? I was an organized person who liked a plan, and in my head I had always imagined these things happening in a timely, organized fashion. I’d waited ten years – why did they all have to appear at once?
‘This is good timing,’ I said, wiping away an errant tear that had crept out of nowhere before Amy saw. Stupid eyes. ‘This slows things down. We’ll both be so busy this week, we won’t have time to stew on stuff. And when I get back, it’ll all be OK.’
‘Totally healthy reaction,’ Amy said, shoving her passport in the back pocket of her hot-pink jeans. ‘You’re so on top of this.’
‘I’m a grown woman,’ I replied, pulling her passport out of her back pocket without her even noticing and placing it safely into into my travel wallet with my passport. ‘I can make my own decisions.’
My suitcase was light to the point of embarrassment, compared to Amy’s gargantuan twosome. All I had packed were comfy jeans, a few T-shirts and shirts and a couple of jumpers in case it got cold at night, even though I had been soundly assured by Agent Veronica that Milan in July would be ‘fucking roasting red hot like the seventh circle of hell’ and that she would rather hang herself by her own ovaries than ‘spend a second in that shithole’. It wasn’t all boring though; I had been to M&S and bought two new packs of pants especially for the trip. It hardly mattered what I wore on my nether regions, since Amy was the only person who was likely to see them and, given my natural tendency to be a never-nude, that tended to be unplanned and against my will anyway.
‘So,’ Amy waved at a driver holding a board showing my name and waited for me to find my feet, ‘what would you do if you turned around and Charlie was stood on one side of the airport and Nick was on the other?’
‘Turn back around and keep walking?’ I said, still breathless. ‘Oh Jesus Christ, they’re not are they?’ I hardly dared move.
‘Well, Charlie isn’t,’ she shrugged. ‘And since you apparently managed to spend a week in playing photographer without taking a single bloody shot of Mr Miller, I don’t know what he looks like, do I?’
‘If you’re going to tell me you haven’t googled him,’ I nodded at the driver as we trotted towards him, overly excited to see my own name badly written in wonky black marker, ‘I’m going to call you a liar.’
‘Do you have any idea how many Nick Millers there are in the world?’ Amy said. ‘Not including a character in a very popular sitcom?’
‘A few?’
Secretly, I was pleased that she’d had a hard time finding him. If Amy had got so much as a peek at Nick, we wouldn’t be in Milan right now. We’d be wherever in the world he might be so she could hunt him down and force us down the aisle with a shotgun.
‘You’re a pain in my arse, Brookes,’ she muttered. ‘I never tell you a story without visual aids.’
‘Yeah, and if you could stop texting me pictures of your one-night stands while they’re sleeping, that would be brilliant,’ I replied.
With a big wide smile, Amy turned and gave me a double thumbs up.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘That’s brilliant.’
‘Remind me again why I brought you with me?’ I asked my alleged best friend, fighting the urge to punch her in the face.
‘Because you love me,’ she said, weaving her arm through mine, as our driver piled our bags onto a trolley. ‘And you couldn’t possibly survive another adventure without me.’
‘Totally should have brought Paige,’ I mumbled to myself as we walked out of the air-conditioned airport into a heat that almost made me crumble to my denim-clad knees. So this was the seventh circle of ovary-hanging hell Veronica had talked about.
‘Warm out,’ Amy said, sliding on her
and
a chicken cook-in sauce? Who did he think I was, Beyoncé? I was an organized person who liked a plan, and in my head I had always imagined these things happening in a timely, organized fashion. I’d waited ten years – why did they all have to appear at once?
‘This is good timing,’ I said, wiping away an errant tear that had crept out of nowhere before Amy saw. Stupid eyes. ‘This slows things down. We’ll both be so busy this week, we won’t have time to stew on stuff. And when I get back, it’ll all be OK.’
‘Totally healthy reaction,’ Amy said, shoving her passport in the back pocket of her hot-pink jeans. ‘You’re so on top of this.’
‘I’m a grown woman,’ I replied, pulling her passport out of her back pocket without her even noticing and placing it safely into into my travel wallet with my passport. ‘I can make my own decisions.’
My suitcase was light to the point of embarrassment, compared to Amy’s gargantuan twosome. All I had packed were comfy jeans, a few T-shirts and shirts and a couple of jumpers in case it got cold at night, even though I had been soundly assured by Agent Veronica that Milan in July would be ‘fucking roasting red hot like the seventh circle of hell’ and that she would rather hang herself by her own ovaries than ‘spend a second in that shithole’. It wasn’t all boring though; I had been to M&S and bought two new packs of pants especially for the trip. It hardly mattered what I wore on my nether regions, since Amy was the only person who was likely to see them and, given my natural tendency to be a never-nude, that tended to be unplanned and against my will anyway.
‘So,’ Amy waved at a driver holding a board showing my name and waited for me to find my feet, ‘what would you do if you turned around and Charlie was stood on one side of the airport and Nick was on the other?’
‘Turn back around and keep walking?’ I said, still breathless. ‘Oh Jesus Christ, they’re not are they?’ I hardly dared move.
‘Well, Charlie isn’t,’ she shrugged. ‘And since you apparently managed to spend a week in playing photographer without taking a single bloody shot of Mr Miller, I don’t know what he looks like, do I?’
‘If you’re going to tell me you haven’t googled him,’ I nodded at the driver as we trotted towards him, overly excited to see my own name badly written in wonky black marker, ‘I’m going to call you a liar.’
‘Do you have any idea how many Nick Millers there are in the world?’ Amy said. ‘Not including a character in a very popular sitcom?’
‘A few?’
Secretly, I was pleased that she’d had a hard time finding him. If Amy had got so much as a peek at Nick, we wouldn’t be in Milan right now. We’d be wherever in the world he might be so she could hunt him down and force us down the aisle with a shotgun.
‘You’re a pain in my arse, Brookes,’ she muttered. ‘I never tell you a story without visual aids.’
‘Yeah, and if you could stop texting me pictures of your one-night stands while they’re sleeping, that would be brilliant,’ I replied.
With a big wide smile, Amy turned and gave me a double thumbs up.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘That’s brilliant.’
‘Remind me again why I brought you with me?’ I asked my alleged best friend, fighting the urge to punch her in the face.
‘Because you love me,’ she said, weaving her arm through mine, as our driver piled our bags onto a trolley. ‘And you couldn’t possibly survive another adventure without me.’
‘Totally should have brought Paige,’ I mumbled to myself as we walked out of the air-conditioned airport into a heat that almost made me crumble to my denim-clad knees. So this was the seventh circle of ovary-hanging hell Veronica had talked about.
‘Warm out,’ Amy said, sliding on her
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