How to Get Hitched in Ten Days: A Novella. Samantha Tonge

huh… well, spontaneous is good. You could have both gone shopping for diamonds together, this weekend.’ I said, aware that this was one of the longest conversations we’d ever had. You see – Dave and me, as you’ll soon come to understand, have never really… gelled. He kept his distance. I’d given up trying to figure out the reason why.

      Dave’s mouth drooped at the corners and I longed to lean over and give him the tightest of hugs. Yet I didn’t. Over the months I’d learnt to respect his personal space. Dave wasn’t touchy feely – not with me, anyway. I’d linked arms with him once and he’d jumped away as if I’d scalded him. I tried to get to know him better, but the sentiment had never been reciprocated.

      He coughed and stared at his colourful, donut-themed placemat. ‘Spontaneous may be good – but not if you’re absolutely plastered.’

      I put down my cup. ‘You were drunk?’

      ‘Bladdered. Hadn’t prepared a word. The urge to propose just came to me. I can’t hold down champagne at the best of times and seconds afterwards I had to run to the toilets to throw up.’

      I stared at him. ‘How exactly did you word this proposal?’

      His cheeks flushed. ‘Hard to remember. I just blurted out that neither of us were getting any younger and that we should get hitched. Think I mentioned something about a registry office and not making a fuss.’

      I opened my mouth but no words came out.

      ‘Like I said, she’s always shied away from talking about us settling down. I didn’t want to scare her off with fanciful ideas,’ he muttered, rambling now as he ran a hand through those unruly curls.

      My jaw stayed open.

      ‘When I got back to the table, she pointed out that I had vomit down my shirt.’

      I squirmed. Ew. I’d have been compelled to immediately demand he strip off so that I could take it to the bathroom for a damn good wash.

      ‘Then she got up, said I could pay the bill and left me to it. She hasn’t answered my texts all morning.’ Dave sniffed. ‘Not even when I suggested we meet for cocktails after work.’

      I couldn’t help smiling. Dave, prepared to drink cocktails? He couldn’t stand their sickly sweet flavours, cute umbrellas or brightly coloured straws.

      ‘Glad you find it funny, Mikey. Go on, call me a jerk. Over the last year or so you’ve made it obvious you don’t like me much. Bet you’re well pleased.’

      Huh? ‘Now hold on a minute, that’s not–’

      With a clatter, Dave let his teaspoon drop onto the saucer. ‘So rub my nose in it. I don’t blame you. Tell me how gym-buffed you would have planned a special proposal weeks ahead, with violins playing, homemade quiche for breakfast the next day, her favourite chick flick waiting to watch when you got home from dinner.’

      ‘Yeah, spot on Dave,’ I said dryly. ‘All those stereotypes so apply to me.’

      His cheeks flushed. ‘Well, you have got a six-pack. And you make quiche – from scratch.’

      ‘I also play Call of Duty till the early hours and my favourite all-time film is The Bourne Ultimatum.’ I pulled a face. ‘Although I draw the line at watching that TV channel named after you – giant go karts or extreme-sized fish really don’t do it for me.’

      ‘Whatever.’ Dave scraped back his chair and started to get to his feet. ‘I’d better go. The office will be wondering where I am.’ Yet he stalled before fully standing up and shot me a weird expression. My heart squeezed. Vulnerability wrapped up in a bristly exterior – I could see why that killer combination drew in Jazz.

      My brow furrowed. ‘Hold up. You don’t owe work anything. As Jazz says, if they can’t value their top accountant then it’s no wonder you’re looking for another job.’

      He grimaced. ‘True. No promised bonus for three years has finally pushed me to put together a new CV.’

      ‘So you can spare ten more minutes. Sit back and tell me – why did you come here today?’

      Lips pursed into a firm line, he slouched into his seat. ‘I’m not begging. See it as a favour to Jasmine but… if anyone can help me salvage something from this, and propose again in the right manner, then it’s you.’

      I snorted. ‘Dave. I’m the last person you should ask. I haven’t had a proper relationship for months now and what do I know about asking for someone’s hand in marriage?’

      My heads spun for a few seconds. What a dilemma. Me, help the person who disliked me most in the world become a permanent fixture in the life of the person who liked me the most.

      ‘You know Jasmine,’ he said, in a tight voice. ‘Whenever it’s her birthday, your presents always outshine mine.’

      ‘I don’t do it on purpose,’ I said, in a measured voice.

      ‘I get it. It’s a gay thing.’

      ‘Dave, just for one second try not to talk in clichés. Perhaps I’m simply a more thoughtful human being, had that every crossed your mind? Take John, our head chef. For his last wedding anniversary, he had a bespoke music box made for his wife – when you lifted the lid it played their wedding dance song. You don’t get more thoughtful or romantic than that.’

      Dave let out a sigh. ‘Look – will you help me or not?’

      Wounded eyes stared straight at me, as if he were some loyal Labrador who’d lost his owner and faced a future on the streets. His lips might have been set in a firm line, but I noticed the muscle flinch in his cheek – saw the way he wrung his hands. Inside my chest felt heavy. I didn’t like to see him upset. And in my heart there was no question – I had to help, as I couldn’t blank the memories of Jazz’s shiny eyes when she first used to mention a great guy she’d met called Dave, a bloke who brought security and confidence to her life.

      ‘How long have we got?’ I mumbled and scrunched up my forehead. ‘Doesn’t she leave for New York in ten days’ time?’

      Dave nodded. ‘The night before she flies out I want to propose again. I don’t want her going with bad feelings between us. That gives me time enough to plan and get the proposal just right.’

      ‘Yeah, good idea, especially as they are pressing for her to move there permanently.’

      ‘What?’

      My cheeks burned. ‘Oh, um, didn’t Jazz tell you? Apparently Chemi-Vate has set up its largest number of laboratories in any one location. The human resources department is the biggest in the company’s history. With her experience, Jazz is lined up to become the New York HR manager.’

      Dave’s head dropped into his hands again. ‘Nothing stopping her now then…’

      My chest squeezed and I held out my hand to a passing Kate. Almost free-wheeling straight into the next table, she unsteadily passed me her waitress’ notebook. ‘Never took you for a quitter, Dave.’

      He looked up and I took out a pen from my apron.

      ‘Let’s do it, angel-face,’ I said with an innocent smile.

      ‘You’ll really help me?’ he said, eyes wide. ‘I thought… I mean – this is a great opportunity for you to get rid of me, once and for all.’

      ‘And why would I want to do that? Jazz’s happiness is what matters, no?’ I shrugged. ‘Sure. You’ve been a right bozo but – God knows why – Jazz loves you with every soppy cell of her being.’

      A quizzical look crossed his face. The lines on his forehead dissipated. My brow relaxed too and my breathing slowed as his mouth almost upturned.

      ‘Now, take off that damn awful coat, Dave McCrory…’ Pen poised, I straightened up. ‘… and let’s see if we can get you hitched – or at least