Samantha Tonge - Breakfast Under A Cornish Sun - The perfect romantic comedy for summer

‘In fact, that’s great because the reason I’m ringing is … I’d like to invite you to my wedding next month,’ she blurted out. ‘Could you give me your address? I can’t wait to meet Ross, your plus-one.’

What? I closed my eyes. Fair dos, universe, this is a swift punishment for my lie. Perhaps she’d guessed I wasn’t telling the truth. I mean, why else would she want me there?

‘That’s … very kind of you,’ I said, ‘but … Saffron … I’m really busy during the coming months and … I’m sure there are closer friends you’d like to invite instead of me.’

Didn’t the non-confrontational British just love an understatement?

Silence. Awkward. I awaited the shallow, meaningless retort.

‘It would mean a lot to me. Really. And several friends from school are going to be there,’ she said with a super-soft tone.

I squirmed. Then it truly would be the wedding from hell. But once again, curiosity piqued me and, despite some deep-set feelings of inadequacy that occasionally made a reappearance, for the most I wasn’t that insecure teenager any more. Plus, I was trying to build myself as a singer, and weddings were the best opportunity to subtly leave out business cards.

‘You’d be doing me a favour, Katie. I couldn’t invite everyone I wanted but two family members have just dropped out, due to illness. That’s why my invite is quite late notice. Please. Do consider it.’

Maybe things hadn’t changed so much after all—I clearly wasn’t her first choice of guest.

‘OK,’ I found myself saying. ‘Ross and I would love to attend. I’ll message you my address. Right. I’d better go—customers await.’

I pressed ‘end call’, put my mobile on the table and sank into my chair. How I would have preferred to say ‘Yes, I have a boyfriend called Johnny .’ My fingers flexed as if wanting to message him on Facebook, even though, deep down, I knew it was fruitless trying to exchange words with someone who was … dead. My eyes tingled and I gave myself a shake. I wasn’t one of life’s wallowers. Ever lost my job? I’d be the first in the queue at the employment office. Argue with a sibling or Mum? It was usually me to phone first and smooth things over. But losing someone isn’t the same, is it? Deep-felt feelings can’t be shaken away like salt out of a salt cellar. And messaging him was still possible, you see, because after … the accident, his family memorialised his Facebook profile. That meant friends could still visit his page to flick through photo albums. It meant, in my darkest hours, I could pretend that he was alive but simply ignoring my heartfelt words.

I gave a sigh and gradually my mind cleared of images of Johnny and uncomfortable school memories, until before me I saw … Ah. Izzy, mouth open, with one eyebrow disappearing into her hairline, clearly having heard me talk of a supposed new boyfriend called Ross …

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.