The Wedding Date: The laugh out loud romantic comedy of the year!. Zara Stoneley

And I now have the opportunity to date an extremely dishy man.

      I can’t answer straight away though as I’m up to my nose in hot chocolate, thinking about rules. And of course getting a chocolate hit.

      But when he leans forward and brushes the cream off my top lip with his slightly salty thumb (sorry, my tongue kind of brushed against it) it’s a bit distracting. Like a puppy giving you kisses when you’ve told him to sit.

      I mustn’t think about kisses. Or tongues. This is a business deal. Nice eyes and arse or not. Although I do now know without a doubt that this is a face I could stand to gaze at for a week. ‘Er, bit of an awkward situation really, rather than a problem.’

      He sits back, his head slightly tilted to one side. ‘She said you didn’t want to go to your mate’s wedding on your own.’ I nod. ‘But why do you need a fake date?’ He sounds more interested than judgemental, and I suppose it is fair enough, him wanting to know.

      ‘Well…’ I concentrate on my marshmallows but can’t help noticing (when I peep up) that his steady gaze never leaves me. ‘I told Jess, that’s my best friend, the one that is getting married, that I’ve got a boyfriend and I haven’t.’

      ‘I’m surprised about that.’ His voice has softened, and when I look up, the corner of his mouth lifts. ‘The “haven’t” bit.’ The gentle tone makes me blink, which is horrible, I’m not supposed to be feeling sorry for myself. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’m totally fine.

      ‘Well I did have, until five months ago. He dumped me, for another woman.’

      ‘Ahh.’

      ‘A woman who I’ve just found out is pregnant. She’s huge apparently, hugely, hugely pregnant.’

      ‘To be honest, does it matter if she’s hugely pregnant, or just a little bit? If she’s pregnant, she’s pregnant.’

      ‘Well yes it does, actually, because it means he, he…’ I pause and take a deep breath, because this is the really horrible bit. ‘Well, she’s huge, as in more than five months pregnant. So that means he was poking her when he was still with me.’

      ‘What a total shit.’ I look up at him properly then, because there’s a harsh edge to his voice that I haven’t heard before. He looks genuinely angry, and his soft tawny eyes have gone hard. Wolf eyes.

      ‘And…’ I waver. ‘He’s going to be there, at the wedding.’

      ‘You have got to be kidding?’ It’s not just his eyes, his whole body has stiffened. ‘What kind of best friend is this Jess? Inviting your ex to her bloody wedding. That is totally out of order.’ He leans forward, and gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and some of the tension seems to ebb out of him. It feels nice, reassuring. Supportive.

      ‘It’s not Jess’s fault.’ I can’t help but sigh, as I stir rather too vigorously and marshmallows pop up and down like corks on a rough sea. ‘My ex happens to be the groom’s brother.’

      ‘Oh, tricky then.’

      ‘And the best man.’

      ‘Ah. That’s a tough call.’ His thumb is rubbing the base of mine, almost absentmindedly. It’s mesmerising and almost makes me forget the story and just ask him out for a real date. But then he stops.

      ‘I also told my mum I had a boyfriend, so that she wouldn’t insist I took Desmond.’

      ‘Desmond?’

      ‘He’s nobody. But Mum and Dad and all my mates will be there, and Liam of course.’ He looks blank. ‘My ex, with his girlfriend.’ I shrug and try and make out this isn’t the most important thing in my life at this precise moment. ‘Anyway, that’s why I want a date.’ I stop all my messing about with my hot chocolate and look at him. ‘I need a date. I don’t want them all feeling sorry for me, and whispering in corners. I’m so over him, and I need to show them I am.’

      ‘You could just not go?’

      ‘No!’ I think I shout it a bit too vehemently, because he freezes. ‘She’s my best mate. I can’t let her down just because of some stupid man.’

      He nods.

      ‘I have to be there for her, she’d do it for me, and besides, I love her to bits. So I am going, whether you say yes or not.’ I stare him in the eye, so there is no doubt. ‘But, I would like to show them how totally over the heap of…’

      ‘Shit?’

      ‘Shit, thank you, I am. So, are you up for it?’ Please say yes, please say yes. I’m holding my breath; he might say no now he knows just what he’s letting himself in for.

      ‘Well…’ There’s a long pause, but he’s gazing into my eyes still, so at least he’s man enough to say no to my face. But then I realise I’ve missed out a crucial bit. If I don’t say this now, and he does say yes, then he might change it to no later.

      ‘Oh, and it’s in Scotland, a whole week.’

      ‘A whole week of mischief?’ His eyes are all twinkly and naughty again, which is very disturbing and makes me feel a bit giddy. ‘Well, just so you know, I did say no when Amy first asked.’

      I lose my giddiness. ‘But she told me you—’

      He holds his spare hand up to stop me. ‘I actually laughed and told her she was crazy.’

      ‘Oh.’ I am deflated. He’s right, it is crazy.

      ‘I dunno, it seemed a bit odd, I’ve never done anything like this before.’

      ‘Believe me, nor have I.’ I’m not sure if he believes me or not, he’s giving me a strange look. ‘Honestly.’ I’m very worried about what Amy might have said. It might have been along the lines of ‘sex-starved and desperate woman I met while I was having a cut and blow.’

      ‘I believe you. Honestly. Er, you’re gripping my hand a bit, I think my fingers are going blue.’

      Sugar, I’ve been hanging on to his hand for dear life. Willing him to say yes. Which is why he’s looking at me strangely. Not because Amy has told him I’m sex-starved. Or maybe that as well.

      ‘Sorry.’ I let go. ‘But you did, er, agree to meet me.’

      ‘I did.’

      ‘You’ve changed your mind?’ If he says he thinks I’m out of my mind now that he’s heard the full story, then my whole plan is scuppered and I’ll be going to the wedding alone. Or with combover Desmond. I have a sudden desire to grab his hand again and plead. But I don’t. I grab a piece of the brownie and stuff it in my mouth to stop the words from forcing their way out.

      ‘Okay, I want to be upfront with you here, which I guess is best seeing as this is just business?’

      The ‘just business’ bit jars a bit, I was hoping he found me a teeny bit attractive and wouldn’t keep reminding me that he is only here for the money. I notice he’s totally reclaimed his hand, and it is now wrapped round his mug of coffee. You see, this is the problem with dating an actor, isn’t it? You don’t know which bits are real and which bits are, well, acting. He might not have been genuinely angry about Liam, he might just have been practising his art.

      The truth? He is only here for the money, and I am only here, walking the dog and swallowing too many calories (I have a maid of honour dress to fit into, and sewing in a strip down the side would be so uncool), because I am desperate.

      But we still don’t need to spell things out and be too honest, do we? I mean, I’m not going to be completely honest and start saying that although he’s gorgeous, his ego is probably bigger than my spare room. That he is no doubt shallow and big-headed and thinks every girl will fall at his feet, that we are totally unsuited in every single way. Am I?

      ‘I’m not sure we need total honesty.’ After all this whole thing is