Willow's Wedding Vows: a laugh out loud romantic comedy with a twist! Page 4

‘Whatever for?’

  ‘To get a tattoo, silly.’

  She rolled her eyes.

  ‘Rather her than me,’ said Charlie, pulling a face. ‘As long as she realises that thirty years from now it might not suit her. Are you having one?’

  ‘Emma wants me to, but I’m not sure. Would you still fancy me with a tattoo?’

  ‘Only if you have my name on the inside of your wrist.’

  Willow flushed with pleasure. The seed’s first root had sprouted. Why else would Charlie suggest she have his name inked on her body if he wasn’t planning on spending the rest of his life with her! Willow thought she might indeed have Charlie’s name on the inside of her wrist. But not yet. Only after he’d put a ring on her finger. To do so beforehand might jinx the chance of a proposal.

  Charlie forked up the last of his spaghetti before draining his glass of wine.

  ‘Have you finished?’ he said.

  For a moment Willow was thrown. Finished what? Chatting about her day at Mosley Library, or talking about Emma’s impending tattoo?

  ‘Your dinner?’ he prompted.

  Due to her doing most of the talking, Willow’s meal was virtually untouched. All the heat had gone out of it. She’d have to put it in the microwave.

  ‘Only I want my dessert,’ said Charlie.

  ‘It’s only tinned peaches and whippy cream,’ said Willow apologetically.

  ‘You’re the peach’ – he pulled her to her feet – ‘and I’ll definitely have you with the whippy cream.’

  He cupped her face in his hands before lowering his mouth to hers. Willow’s legs nearly gave way from the sudden desire that whooshed through her body. Charlie hadn’t behaved like this since… since… well, she couldn’t remember.

  ‘Go upstairs,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll bring the cream.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ she gasped.

  What on earth had got into him?

  ‘We’re going to have some fun,’ he promised.

  And he meant it. It had been very pleasurable licking chocolate body paint off his lover, and she’d done some amazing things with her tongue when it had been spread over his erection. But she wasn’t around to give a repeat performance. And anyway, all that had to stop. His lover had taught him inspiration. Just because that chapter was coming to an end, it didn’t mean creativity had to stop.

  Stifling a giggle, Willow scampered up the stairs peeling her clothes off along the way. Whatever was Charlie going to do with the whippy cream? Spray a foamy bikini on her body, then lick it off? This was unchartered territory. Seconds later, Charlie appeared behind her, shedding his office clothes over the landing floor.

  ‘Two seconds,’ he said hoarsely, before disappearing into the bathroom.

  A moment later, the shower had burst into life.

  Willow resisted the urge to rub her hands together and cackle with glee. Instead she busied herself switching on the bedroom lamps which immediately turned her white skin to pale gold.

  Peeling back the duvet, she flopped down on the mattress, star-fishing out her arms and legs in anticipation. Then she shot upright again. Whippy cream would make a mess. Perhaps she should lay a towel over the flat sheet? But that wouldn’t be so romantic. On the other hand, she’d only just laundered all the bedding. Without a towel, the sheets would have to be washed again.

  Her sense of practicality rose to the fore, but as Willow made for the hot cupboard to fetch the towel, Charlie appeared in the doorway. He’d taken the liberty of already creaming up – and it wasn’t with Factor Fifty.

  Seconds later, Willow had forgotten all about how to prevent the duvet turning into a trifle.

  Seven

  The following morning, Willow awoke to the touch of Charlie’s lips against her forehead. He always got up an hour before her because of his commute.

  ‘See you later,’ he whispered.

  ‘Bye, darling,’ she replied sleepily.

  ‘Oh, and you might want to strip the bed before you go to work. It’s a bit sour in here.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Willow’s eyes pinged open. Nothing like a bit of reality interrupting your rose-tinted dreams. Still, they’d had a lot of fun last night. Messing up the bedding had been worth it, although Willow suspected she’d never look at whippy cream in quite the same way again. Emma had once told her that she and Jon had regularly enjoyed spreading chocolate body paint over themselves. Willow couldn’t begin to imagine the mess that would make.

  Willow waited until Charlie had let himself out of the house, then swung her legs out of bed. Reaching for her mobile, she sent Emma a quick text.

  I completely forgot. Charlie is away this weekend in Birmingham. A boring work convention (his words). If you’re still getting a tattoo on Saturday, I’ll def come with you. Whatever time you like xx

  Half an hour later, Willow had showered, and the smelly bedding was whizzing around in the washing machine. Making up the bed with fresh linen, she hummed to herself. She and Charlie were back on track, and she’d never felt so content.

  ***

  Charlie’s train shot out of the last tunnel before London and zoomed towards King’s Cross International. The 4G coverage reconnected and a flurry of texts landed on his mobile with a stuttering ding-ding-dingggg. Everybody scrambled to their feet, waiting impatiently for the train to roll to a standstill. The carriage aisle was now like human lasagne.

  Remaining in his seat, Charlie used the extra minute before disembarking to scroll through his messages. The first was from Willow.

  Love you xx

  The second was from Ben:

  Mate, Anna’s been a right bloody bitch this morning and made me late. Cover my back until I’m in. Please can you print out Bryson’s exit planning report for me and put it on Drummond’s desk. If Drummond comes looking for me, tell him you don’t know where I am. Oh, and hang your jacket over the back of my chair so it looks like I’m in, eh? Cheers. I owe you one.

  The third was from Kev:

  Yay for telling Willow you’re going to a work convention! So happy! I was thinking about having a tattoo, but can skip it. So where shall we go? An Indian summer is forecast for the weekend. How about Brighton? I fancy paddling in the sea, walking along the beach, eating fish and chips under the stars, followed by some al-fresco sex. Can’t wait!!! Xxxxxxxxxxx

  Charlie sighed and turned his attention back to the first text. He wasn’t up for returning Willow’s declaration of love. Not yet. He didn’t want his girlfriend misinterpreting things and believing he was weakening about the M word. Equally, he didn’t want her thinking he was a total bastard. His fingers tapped out a reply:

  You’re such a babe xx

  He re-read the second text and wondered what was going on between Ben and Anna. Every month, regular as clockwork, she gave Ben hell. Ben claimed Anna suffered rampant PMT. Last time around Ben had dared to change the channel in the middle of Strictly. Anna had gone berserk, snatched the remote control and threatened to bludgeon him with it. Ben had responded with a weak joke that his favourite cops from the Seventies would rescue him. Star Key and Hash. Anna hadn’t laughed.

  Charlie tutted. Anna was a handful. Thank God Willow didn’t behave like that. He knew Willow’s hormones played her up from time to time, but usually they made her weepy rather than bad-tempered. He could still remember the time he’d come home from work and found her in floods of tears. She’d been so distraught he’d presumed someone had died. There had indeed been a death. Of a daddy long-legs. Willow had attempted scooping the creature up but accidentally knocked off one wing and a couple of legs. Horrified at inadvertently causing harm, she’d put the insect out of misery by squashing it. Cue intense bawling. Charlie had comforted Willow and kissed away her tears. He’d ended up gently making love to her. When Charlie had suggested to Ben that he try deflecting Anna’s PMT with some old-fashioned rumpy-pumpy, his friend had looked horrified. “When Anna is in that sort of mood,” he’d cried, “I’m not letting her anywhere near
my willy.”

  The train doors had opened and people were now surging forward. Charlie quickly replied to Ben’s text:

  Will cover your back at the office!

  He then added a thumbs-up emoji.

  Slipping the mobile into his jacket pocket, Charlie grabbed his briefcase from the overhead shelf. A moment later and he was bringing up the rear of the crowd stepping on to the platform. Head down, he headed towards the ticket barrier with his travel card at the ready.

  Kev’s text had gone unanswered. For now, Kev could wait.

  Eight

  Halfway through the morning, Charlie started to feel irritated. There was only so long you could cover for a missing colleague. Drummond hadn’t been happy with the report Charlie had printed out on Ben’s behalf and had already been out once looking for Ben and… uh-oh… speak of the devil… their boss was once again stomping this way.

  ‘He can’t still be in the toilet,’ Drummond snapped.

  ‘His stomach feels upset,’ said Charlie.

  ‘I feel upset,’ Drummond roared. ‘You’ll have to deal with this report on Ben’s behalf. I want it back on my desk, making full sense, in half an hour.’

  Charlie was sorely tempted to remind Drummond about his own deadlines, not to mention preparing for a meeting with a major client this afternoon. However, he knew better than to argue with Drummond who, when breathing fire, could make a dragon look inadequate. Instead, he picked up Ben’s report, smiled at Drummond and said that of course he’d deal with it, whilst mentally jabbing two fingers in the air. Blasted man jack-booting around.

  On top of everything else, his mobile was pinging a series of messages from Kev. It was starting to jar. His phone was positioned next to his keyboard, the screen visible and now displaying yet another WhatsApp message. Picking up the mobile and flicking the volume to silent, he was outraged when it began vibrating in his hand. One word lit up the screen. Kev.

  ‘Hello?’ he hissed.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing’s going on. I’m at work.’

  ‘But you’ve not replied to my messages.’

  ‘Because I’m at work.’

  ‘But you’ve read them, so why not reply?’

  ‘I haven’t read them!’

  ‘Two blue ticks tell me you have.’

  ‘What I mean is’ – Charlie blustered – ‘I haven’t read them properly.’

  He felt annoyed at being put on the spot. What was this? Twenty questions? He didn’t get this sort of interrogation from Willow. At the other end of the line, the voice softened. A change of tack.

  ‘Sorry. I’m missing you, Charlie Bear,’ she cooed.

  ‘I’m missing you too,’ he said, then instantly cursed himself.

  He wasn’t missing her. The only thing he missed was their wild sex.

  ‘I can’t wait to have you all to myself this weekend,’ she persisted. ‘Shall I book a B&B?’

  ‘No,’ he said irritably.

  Oh God. Drummond was hovering. Why was Kev calling him at the office? Willow never called him at work.

  ‘Why not?’

  There was a pout in her voice.

  ‘Because this weekend I really do have to go away on business.’

  There was a pause while she digested this.

  ‘To Birmingham?’

  ‘Yes. To Birmingham.’

  ‘Right.’

  Another pause.

  ‘And we all know what happens in Birmingham, eh?’

  Charlie gnashed his teeth. Why had he confided to her about the high jinks he’d previously got up to when away. Well, he knew the answer to that. It had turned her on. Or so she’d said, anyway.

  ‘Nothing will be happening in Birmingham other than a boring work convention.’

  At the other end of the office Drummond swung round and glared at Charlie. Damn. Had he overheard? He gave his boss a weak smile.

  ‘Listen, I can’t talk. Ben’s not in. I’m trying to do the job of two people and my boss is giving me the evil eye.’

  ‘But what about this weekend?’ she persisted, ignoring Charlie’s plea to end the call. ‘You know perfectly well that after the convention you’ll be out with your mates. Since when did you pass up being entertained on a Saturday night? You’ll be ogling table dancers, signalling to your favourite, then wining and dining her before taking her back to your hotel for a night of passion.’

  ‘That only happened once.’

  ‘That’s not what you told me. You said it happened every time you went away.’

  ‘I was exaggerating.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I thought that was what you wanted to hear.’

  ‘Well I’ve changed my mind.’

  ‘Right. Glad we’ve sorted that out. Now I really do need to go.’

  ‘How do I know you won’t cheat on me, Charlie?’

  ‘You’re carrying on like a jealous wife.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  ‘Oh, does that annoy you then?’

  ‘Frankly, yes. It does. Willow doesn’t behave like this.’

  ‘That’s because Willow has no idea that you’re an unfaithful bastard,’ she snarled. ‘And don’t you dare compare me to that lump. I can understand why you started playing away when it comes to Willow. After all, you’ve told me yourself that you don’t fancy her any more and there’s no action between the sheets. But I’m not as drippy as Willow. Nor am I up for being lied to, Charlie. Do you understand?’

  Charlie put the report down. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, as if trying to block out pain. This was ridiculous. How the heck had a bit of flirty fun turned into being hassled at work with an accusation about being cheated upon?

  He had a sudden recollection of that old film he’d once watched with Willow. What was it called? Ah yes, Fatal Attraction. It had starred Glenn Close and Michael Douglas. Glenn had fluttered her eyelashes at Michael who’d fluttered his own back. The next thing was his kid’s pet rabbit being casseroled. Was that what was happening here? Charlie mentally batted the thought away and berated himself for the path his mind had skittered along.

  You’re overreacting. Of course she’s not a bunny boiler. Moron! But this moment serves as a reminder that you need to extricate yourself. Might as well do it now, eh?

  ‘Hello?’ she said. ‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’

  ‘I’m thinking, sweetie,’ he soothed.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she said sulkily.

  ‘I’m thinking that–’

  In the nick of time he stopped himself from saying, “We need to talk.”. Those words would unleash wrath.

  ‘I’m thinking that I’d like to see you tonight,’ he said instead.

  Hell, he’d have to bite the bullet and tell Willow he had to work late.

  ‘Can I see you this evening?’

  ‘Yes. Leave it with me. I’ll make sure the coast is clear for a few hours.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘See you later.’

  ‘That you will,’ she giggled, all smiles again. ‘You’ll see all of me later.’

  Sighing, Charlie ended the call.

  Nine

  Charlie spent the next thirty minutes revising Ben’s report. After returning it to Drummond, he sent a hasty text to Willow.

  Sorry, babe. Going to have to work late. Ben hasn’t arrived at the office. Something about him and Anna having a blazing row. Currently doing his work and mine. Don’t cook for me. Will grab a burger from the drive-thru xx

  Ben slunk in just before noon. He quietly slid into his chair and, within seconds, made it seem as if he’d been about, if not visible.

  ‘What the heck’s been going on?’ Charlie demanded.

  ‘I don’t want to discuss it,’ said Ben.

  He tapped his keyboard, then pretended to be studying a spreadsheet.

  ‘Mate, you owe me,’ said Charlie in annoyance. ‘I’ve had a cr
ap time redoing your report and an even crappier time dealing with Drummond. So come on, spit it out.’

  ‘Ah, you know. Women trouble.’

  ‘You mean woman trouble.’

  ‘No, women. In the plural. You see, there’s two of them.’

  ‘What?’ said Charlie in confusion. ‘Are you trying to tell me you’re seeing someone else?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Sort of?’

  ‘Ah, you know. It just happened.’

  Charlie knew only too well how something “sort of” became “just happened”.

  ‘Does Anna know? Is that why you had a row?’

  ‘Noooooo!’ said Ben with a shudder. ‘No way does she know. I’m not up for having the groin cut out of my suits, thank you very much.’

  ‘Okay, so if Anna doesn’t know about this other woman, why are you late to work? What was going on at home?’

  ‘The usual monthly nonsense. Full-blown PMT. Every flipping month she goes off her head with rage. This morning she was snarling like a Pitbull because I’d failed to put the lid on the coffee jar. She was absolutely gunning to turn a minor irritation into a major argument. When I refused to react, she snatched my toast and flung it across the kitchen. Seconds later the china plate had followed. It hit the ground and cracked the floor tile. She screamed, “Now look what you made me do”. I told her to calm down and said I’d clear up the mess, but she stalked off. By the time I’d put the broken china in the bin and mopped the floor, she was back looking wild about the eyes. She said she’d rung her office and told them she wouldn’t be in because she had an upset tummy. Then she said I had to stay at home with her to comfort her. I told her not to be daft and said I was going to work. I put on my jacket but couldn’t find my shoes. It turned out she’d hidden them.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you put on a different pair of shoes?’ said Charlie.

  He thought about his side of the wardrobe at home, the base of which was stuffed with footwear.

  ‘Surely you have loads of shoes?’

  ‘Mate, she’d hidden them all’ – Ben flung his arms wide – ‘even my flip-flops.’