My Fake Wedding(126)

And what about all my well-intentioned resolutions? What about Behaving Like A Bloke? Humping and Dumping? Loving and Leaving?

What about not letting myself fall in love again? Ever.

Oh well, it’s too late to go back now, I tell myself, as I crumple my bikini and shorts into my tote bag. I’m happy. Really, really happy. Sam looks over at me and smiles.

‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’ I grin.

‘Not that weird.’ He comes and rests his hands on my shoulders.

‘No?’

‘Not really. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve probably loved you since we were kids. I told you this morning.’

‘Since I smashed you over the head with that spade?’ I smile.

‘Well, perhaps not then. I actually thought you were a bit of a bitch on that particular day. Especially when the stitches came out.’

‘That wasn’t very Christian of you,’ I say. ‘Bearing a grudge like that.’

‘Perhaps I’m not a very Christian sort of boy.’ He smiles at me slowly. ‘You might get to find out if you play your cards right. Still, Simpson, that was completely unnecessary, that spade-bashing. I hope you’re not going to do the same thing to my father if your mum lets him sit on her lap.’

But I’m not listening.

‘How can you love me?’ I ask, stupefied at what he’s just told me. ‘I’m ginger. I eat like a bastard. And we’ve only just kissed.’

‘You’re stunning,’ he says, gently bending down to kiss my cheek. ‘You’re you. And I’ve known you for ever.’

‘But I haven’t got big tits.’

‘You’ve got lovely tits.’ He runs his hand over one of my breasts so gently I think I’m going to scream with lust.

I’ve never felt so turned on in my life.

‘You can shag me if you like,’ I tell him. ‘I won’t break.’

‘I think we should wait till we get home.’ He grins. ‘So it’ll still feel real when we get back.’

‘OK.’

Obviously, I’m slightly disappointed. I was really looking forward to finding out if the novelty draught-excluder was an accurate description. But if I have to wait…

Besides, no one’s ever told me they love me before sex.

I mean it’s far more usual for them to tell me as we’re actually doing the nasty. Right as we’re bumping uglies in a back alley. Let’s face it, it’s usually just as they’re about to come.

And at least he knows me well enough to understand we can’t get married. Not until my divorce from David comes through, at any rate. And anyway, do we have to follow the conventional route of house, marriage, children? Can’t we just be us? Two friends who happen to have monogamous, loving sex. On the face of things, that’s far less scary.

I’m just finishing my packing when Sam slips away and comes back with flowers.

‘What are these for?’

‘I wanted to ask you to marry me. But there’s nowhere to buy you a ring. Unless you want a lime-green plastic one from the machine in the amusement arcade.’

‘Oh, Sam.’ I smile at his sweetness. ‘You know I can’t do that.’ ‘Why not?’ he asks. ‘Not because of that New Year’s resolution rubbish, surely? All that being single nonsense?’

‘I’m marrying David in two weeks,’ I tell him. ‘Remember?’

What happens next will always be a bit of a blur.

‘I thought…’ he stutters. ‘I thought that now… I mean, with me and you and…’

It honestly hasn’t occurred to him that I’ll still go ahead with my plans to help David and George stay together.

He’s allowed himself to believe that us getting it together would change everything.

‘I never said that,’ I snap. I don’t mean to, but I can’t let my friends down. Not even for Sam. I’ve made a promise. I have to keep it.

‘You didn’t have to,’ Sam shouts. ‘I mean, if you loved me you wouldn’t even have to think about it.’

I’m so cross at him shouting, I decide he’s probably only engineered this whole situation to stop me from getting married to David. And I yell at him for that.

Sam tells me I’m talking rubbish, saying that of course he loves me, he always has and he always will.

‘Then can’t you just let me marry David and still go out with me?’ I ask him in desperation.

Sam stares at me for a moment, and I feel a flicker of hope.

Then, ever so slowly, he shakes his head. ‘No, I can’t. It’s all or nothing, I’m afraid. Black or white. I don’t want there to be a whole big grey area where it’s all confusing. And I can’t really bear the thought of you marrying someone you don’t love.’