Three Amazing Things About You(90)

‘He is.’ Alice nodded happily. ‘Ah, I love him to bits. We’re so lucky, aren’t we?’

Tasha paused at one of the photos she’d taken last night in the wine bar, of Rory with his head thrown back as he laughed at something one of his friends had just said. God, he was perfect. And he was all hers.

Aloud, she said with pride, ‘Oh yes.’

The wedding had been a triumph. Apart from one bridesmaid having too much to drink and throwing up into a flower arrangement, the whole event had gone without a hitch. Having been asked to stay in order to make sure the bride, her bridesmaids and her mother looked their best for the photographs at the reception, Tasha had been kept busy mattifying faces, redoing lipstick and repairing out-of-control mascara runs.

It had been a happy day, though, and she’d sensed an instant attraction between the best man and the bride’s pretty younger sister. As she had been leaving, she’d spotted them sharing a sneaky kiss out in the hotel’s car park. And that was the brilliant thing: you never knew what might come of this newest of budding romances. Just think, a year or two from now, she could be asked to do the make-up for another wedding, only to discover it was them.

Driving home, Tasha couldn’t wait to see Rory again. Apart from a few hors d’oeuvres, she’d had nothing to eat, so she was also looking forward with a vengeance to her roast dinner. Her fiancé (ha, get me!) would be busy in the kitchen now, wearing his favourite blue T-shirt and faded jeans, singing along to the radio as he expertly basted the chicken, turned the crisped-up roast potatoes and flambéed red wine before whisking it into the gravy.

I mean, how many gorgeous adrenalin-junkie thrill-seeking super-sporty types are also capable of making stupendous gravy?

Seriously, they were pretty thin on the ground.

But when she fitted her key into the lock and pushed open the front door, the heavenly scents of roast dinner were sadly lacking. The air in the flat smelled of . . . nothing at all.

Had Rory forgotten about the meal and gone out with Joe? Could he have met up with friends at the gym and decided to join them for a drink or two afterwards? Or had he changed his mind about cooking and decided to take her out to their favourite restaurant instead?

‘Hello?’ No, the kitchen was empty, as was the living room. ‘Are you here?’

The next moment, Tasha heard the creak of the bed. So he was here. This made even less sense, unless— She froze, remembering what had happened to one of Carmel’s friends the other week. Returning home unexpectedly, she’d burst into the bedroom and caught her boyfriend in bed with the girl from the flat upstairs.

Well, hopefully she wasn’t about to walk in on that scenario, particularly since Rory’s upstairs neighbour was a sixty-year-old history teacher with a vast swollen belly and a ZZ Top beard . . .

Pushing open the bedroom door, she said, ‘OK, if you’re having sex with Beardy Bernard, you’re in big trouble.’

‘Huh? Oh God, what’s the time?’ Rory rolled over and winced as he opened his eyes. ‘Is it five o’clock already?’

‘Almost half past. You poor thing, are you ill?’

He pulled a face and nodded. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to sleep this long. I was going to cook dinner.’

‘I’ve never seen you sick before.’ Sitting on the bed next to him, Tasha smoothed his tousled hair back from his forehead.

‘That’s because I’m never sick. I started feeling a bit rough last night, thought I’d be back to normal today.’ He shifted his head against the squashed pillows. ‘But I’m not.’

‘How rotten.’

‘I think it’s flu.’

Tasha smiled, because she’d guessed he’d say that. ‘It’s probably not flu, not at this time of year. You’ve just caught a bug.’

‘This definitely feels like flu,’ said Rory.

He looked so sad, how could she not humour him? ‘OK, maybe it is.’

‘How was the wedding?’

‘Great. One puking bridesmaid, otherwise everything was fine. The hotel was amazing; they ran the whole event like clockwork and the staff were lovely.’

‘What does that mean?’ He broke into a wry smile. ‘You wouldn’t mind us getting married there?’

‘Who knows? It could go on the long-list.’ Tasha laced her fingers through his, admiring the look of their clasped hands and the way the diamond flashed light like a tiny sparkler.

‘Sorry I didn’t get the size right.’ Rory touched the narrow platinum band. ‘We can have it sorted, no problem.’

Tasha shook her head. ‘No way, I’m not giving it back to them, not even for a day. I’d rather stop eating until my fingers get thinner.’