Page 66 of Snowed In with You

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

‘This is my girlfriend, Lucy,’ said Anthony for the fifteenth time that day. Lucy gritted her teeth and smiled, shaking the hand of yet another one of Anthony’s mates whose name she’d already forgotten. He and his cousin Lee had grown up together, raised by their mutual grandmother and extended family, so they had a common circle of friends and still boxed at the same club. Hence Lucy and Anthony had been invited on countless double-dates, including holiday to Tenerife with one of Anthony’s old school friends and his girlfriend, who were a lawyer and an art teacher from Portishead. They seemed lovely and under different circumstances Lucy might have considered it, but Anthony wasn’t her boyfriend and she was in no position to accept holiday offers.

‘Where you been hiding this one then?’ leered a friend from the boxing club, who was clearly plastered. ‘She’s the first knockout you’ve had in a while.’

‘Away from you,’ muttered Anthony, steering Lucy towards a standing table by the bar, the friend’s jeers following them. ‘You’re punching, mate. She’s too good for you.’

‘Sorry about that,’ said Anthony.

‘Can you please stop introducing me as your girlfriend?’ said Lucy, trying to keep her tone light and friendly. ‘I don’t mind being your date, but your Auntie Diane has invited me to Sunday lunch.’

‘Shit, really?’ said Anthony. ‘When?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘What did you say? Can you make it? She’s a friend of my nan’s and not actually my auntie, but she’s an incredible cook.’

‘I’m sure she is, but obviously it’s a no. I’m not your girlfriend, remember?’

‘Yeah, I know, sorry,’ said Anthony, holding up the palms of his hands. ‘It’s just easier to say girlfriend. Date makes it look like I’ve dragged you along for the optics.’

‘You HAVE dragged me along for the optics,’ laughed Lucy.

‘And can I just say that you look incredible.’ He gave Lucy an appreciative gaze from top to toe, from her emerald green wrap dress that showed a very demure amount of cleavage, to her nude heels that were nearly new Louboutins bought from Vinted for £100, and the only reason Lucy had woken up looking forward to this event.

‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ smiled Lucy. She’d never seen Anthony dressed up; in fact she’d never seen Anthony wearing much of anything. There were few men who didn’t scrub up nicely in a well-tailored three-piece suit, and Anthony was no exception. He also smelled glorious, but she still hadn’t decided if she was up for getting naked with him later. She’d kept both him and Marco away all week, and still didn’t feel very in the mood.

‘You’re having a good time, right?’ She smiled and nodded; it was impossible not to be a tiny bit charmed by how much it obviously mattered to him.

‘Yes,’ said Lucy, holding out her hand so he could take it. ‘You have a lovely family.’

‘See, told you. You want to stay at mine later?’

‘Maybe,’ said Lucy with a shrug. ‘I’ve got my eye on at least two of your cousins, including the groom.’

‘You’re hilarious,’ said Anthony. ‘Seriously though, don’t cross Zoe, the bride – she’s a chef and owns a lot of really sharp knives. Stay there, and I’ll get us a couple of drinks.’ He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then plunged into the crowd at the bar and disappeared.

Lucy pulled a compact out of her clutch bag and touched up her red lipstick, half-watching Zoe chatting with three of her bridesmaids at the next table. Lucy had always assumed she’d never get married – you needed to do long-term relationships, for a start – but looking at the bride and groom obviously having the best day of their lives, it was hard not to wonder if she was missing out on something. Yesterday she’d seen a therapist for the first time in nearly eight years, and spent an hour trying to explain how she was feeling right now. Like the things she hung on to as safe and familiar – the places, the rituals, the routines – had grown horns and teeth and were closing in on her, laughing at her. She’d booked another appointment for next Friday, in the slot normally reserved for going to the pub with Jonno. She’d decided that wine therapy could probably go on hold for a while, and persuaded him to come to the gym with her instead.

‘Yeah, Nate Lambert,’ said Zoe, just as Lucy had moved on to nervously imagining what her dream wedding dress might look like. A 1930s-style diaphanous, bias-cut satin condom with a train and a cowl neck, she’d decided. Maybe she could get Titan to sponsor it. ‘You know? The TikTok guy who did that Ed Sheeran mountain thing.’

‘Really?’ said one of the bridesmaids. Lucy smiled, wondering if Nate’s ears were burning. Everyone was talking about him these days; they must be on fire 24/7.

‘Yep,’ said Zoe. ‘I went to school with him in Clevedon. He couldn’t make the ceremony cos he had a TV thing this morning, but he said he’d try his best.’

Lucy’s heart started to pound as she looked around, piecing together the implications of what Zoe had just said. Before she could even regroup, Anthony reappeared with two glasses of champagne and . . . Nate.

‘Look who I found loitering by the door,’ said Anthony. ‘You guys know each other, right? From your Swiss adventure?’

‘Nate!’ exclaimed Zoe, hobbling over in her mermaid dress to give him a hug. ‘So glad you could make it, babes. Oh my God, look at you.’ Lucy took in Nate’s very obvious TV glow-up – a haircut, a subtle tan that was definitely not the norm for January, and a dark blue velvet suit that was very un-Nate and extremely sexy. She looked away self-consciously, suddenly aware of how this must look, and how much Nate knew about her compared to everyone else in this room. The thought made her feel naked.

‘Congratulations,’ muttered Nate, hugging Zoe but barely taking his eyes off Lucy. ‘You look amazing.’

‘Do you know Anthony’s girlfriend too?’ asked Zoe, looking a tiny bit put out that Nate seemed to be transfixed by Lucy and entirely ignoring her.

‘Yeah,’ said Nate, glancing at Anthony with a look that was both confused and . . . something else. Angry, maybe? As self-conscious and regret-filled as Lucy? She felt a powerful urge to explain, to tell him that this was all just for show and she was doing Anthony a favour, but clearly she couldn’t say any of that stuff out loud. And what difference would it make, anyway? It didn’t change the facts of their respective situations.

‘I reckon you guys will be next,’ said Zoe, beaming at Anthony and Lucy. ‘You’ve been so loved up all day.’