Willow's Wedding Vows: a laugh out loud romantic comedy with a twist! by Debbie Viggiano

Author:Debbie Viggiano [Viggiano, Debbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unicorn Publishing
Published: 2020-04-27T23:00:00+00:00

Thirty-Three

‘Morning,’ said Ben cheerfully, as he passed Willow on the landing.

He was waiting for Charlie to come out of the bathroom, and Willow was very glad she’d opted to have a bath the previous night.

‘Hi,’ she replied. ‘Do you want some breakfast, or will you grab something at the station café with Charlie?’

‘I’ll go to the café. Might as well live dangerously,’ Ben joked weakly.

‘Not too dangerously I hope’ – Willow bantered – ‘after all, today is Friday the thirteenth.’

Ben suddenly looked anxious.

‘I wish you hadn’t said that. Something awful always happens when it’s Friday the thirteenth.’

‘I heard that,’ said Charlie, coming out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips. ‘I’ve never heard so much superstitious claptrap in my life. If something disastrous comes your way, it would have happened anyway. Bad luck doesn’t store itself up and wait for the calendar to roll around to Friday the thirteenth.’

Willow was inclined to agree, but she gave Ben a sympathetic smile as he disappeared into the bathroom.

‘Shall we get a take-away tonight?’ she asked Charlie, following him back into their bedroom. ‘I quite fancy a chicken korma.’

‘I’d rather not,’ he said, vigorously rubbing down his body before dropping the wet towel on the floor.

The last thing Charlie wanted was his pores oozing garlic when he arrived in Birmingham tomorrow. Willow regarded him in disappointment.

‘What about a Chinese then?’

‘No thanks.’

Charlie had high hopes of pulling. No way could he kiss a girl through the night if his mouth still harboured traces of ginger, star anise and spices. Mouthwash was as good as useless after such meals.

‘Can I not have a night off from cooking’ – Willow stooped to pick up the towel –‘or am I perceived as some sort of housekeeper who trots out meals for you and unexpected house guests, along with being a personal wet-towel-picker-upper.’

She balled up the offending towel and flung it at Charlie. It slapped him square in the face. Charlie stared at her in astonishment. Good heavens. What on earth had got into Willow? She was behaving in a very un-Willow-like way. He retrieved the wet towel and placed it on the bed instead.

‘Of course you can have a takeaway, sweetie,’ he said, adopting a pacifying tone. ‘What about a nice pizza?’

A cheese and tomato jobbie wouldn’t wreck his breath, would it? He’d ask chef to leave out the onions. Just in case.

‘Okay,’ said Willow, but her expression told Charlie she hadn’t been placated.

‘Is something wrong?’

He began putting on socks and boxers at lightning speed before rifling through his shirt rail.

‘Yes!’ Willow exclaimed, removing the wet towel off the duvet. ‘I was talking to you last night about something fairly monumental and–’

There was a knock on their bedroom door.

‘Come in,’ said Charlie.

Having speedily buttoned up his shirt and slung a tie round his neck, he was now zipping up his flies.

‘Am I interrupting?’ said Ben apologetically.

‘Of course not,’ said Charlie, grabbing his suit jacket. ‘Willow was just saying that she fancies a pizza later. We’ll grab some on the way back from the station tonight.

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