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‘You shall go to the ball Cinders,’ I said under my breath.
A knock on my bedroom door made me jump and almost fall over in my ridiculously high shoes.
‘Can I come in?’ came Gwen’s muffled voice from the other side.
‘Sure!’
She came in bundled up in a multi-coloured poncho with a pair of massive koala slippers sticking out from underneath.
‘Wow, you look amazing! Jessica Alba’s got nothing on you.’
‘Thanks. I thought you’d be off out to some posh restaurant or swanky party with Tom?’ I gestured at her outfit while fixing a few unruly locks of hair.
‘Not tonight, he’s working late. Got a big client to wine and dine or something. He’s taking me out next weekend and buying me a present to make up for it.’
I felt a little pang of jealousy. Although I’d recently declared myself a firm non-believer of love, I couldn’t help but feel envious of Gwen having someone who spoiled her so much. Aside from that, she said he listened to her, made her feel special and showered her with compliments.
‘Will I do then?’ I realised I hadn’t spoken for a while so I gave a little twirl to let Gwen see how her friend’s handiwork looked on me.
‘Um, yeah I think so! Your date’s in the living room by the way.’
My heart jolted a little until I remembered it was only Max and not an actual date. There was no need for nerves or butterflies or anything else that accompanied a first date with someone. I found that strangely comforting and a bit sad at the same time.
I walked through to the living room. I saw Max’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open.
‘Bloody hell,’ he murmured.
I blushed and pushed some stray hairs out of my face. The dress looked like something that some Best Actress nominee should be wearing to the Oscars. It was far too beautiful for a wedding reporter from Manchester.
‘You look smart,’ I said, looking at him. ‘Very James Bond.’
Max looked at his black tuxedo and gave a soft chuckle as he fiddled with his bow tie. ‘Why thank you Miss Moneypenny. You ready to go?’
‘Not bad for some!’ Gwen scoffed. ‘Now, it’s just the poor little match girl over here who isn’t going.’
‘Don’t worry; I’ll see if I can get you a piece of wedding cake.’ Max grinned and ruffled her hair, something he knew she hated.
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, go on the pair of you! Off you go, Daniel Radcliffe!’
‘What?’ Max scrunched his nose up as he tried to decipher what she meant.
‘Isn’t he the one who plays James Bond just now?’
‘That’s Daniel Craig, you cereal box!’ I giggled. ‘Daniel Radcliffe played Harry Potter.’
Gwen shrugged and shook her head. ‘It’s all the same to me. Anyway, you two go off and have a nice time. A cup of tea and Netflix are calling me.’
Max put his arm out for me to take and we walked out into the cool autumn night to wait for our taxi. A delicate hum of activity resonated from the streets. A steady stream of people were beginning to venture out to see what the city’s nightlife had to offer. Even on a Sunday, there was plenty to do in Manchester. It never really stopped.
‘So where’s Amira tonight?’ I asked, regretting the question as soon as I asked.
‘She’s got a photo shoot,’ Max answered. ‘She has to get some new headshots done for her portfolio.’
The way he said it made it sound like she was off volunteering at a soup kitchen or declawing cats. My heart skipped when I heard she wouldn’t be there to make me feel like the third wheel. Which I was.
‘Oh what a shame,’ I said, trying my best to sound sad. ‘Maybe next time eh?’
‘Yeah, I’m kind of glad she’s not coming actually. We haven’t spent time alone together for ages have we? Gwen and Amira are usually there so it’ll be good to have some one-on-one time with you.’
I peeked up at him and saw a broad smile stretch across his face, all the way up to his eyes. He really was very handsome.
‘Yeah, we haven’t had any Max and Munchkin time for a while,’ I agreed.
To my right, I heard him grunt with frustration as he began playing with his bow tie again.
‘Bloody thing won’t sit right!’
‘God, you men can’t do anything for yourselves, can you?!’ I joked. ‘Come here, I’ll fix it.’
Max twisted his body round so I could work my magic. I undid the tie and carefully redid it, straightening it proudly when I was finished.
‘There, now you can go to the ball, Cinders!’
‘Is there anything you can’t do, Munchkin?’ When I looked up, I noticed a sparkle lighting his eyes.
‘Nope. Well I’m not very good at swimming, or dancing for that matter. Apart from that though, I’m basically Superwoman.’
‘Cheeky!’ Max pulled me close to him and pretended to lock me in a headlock. ‘God, you’re freezing! Here, have this.’
He pulled off his suit jacket and offered it to me.
‘Nah, it’s fine,’ I said. ‘The taxi will be here in a minute.’
Goose bumps began to rise on my arms as a sharp chill swirled around my shoulders. I shivered; why hadn’t I brought a coat with me?
Max draped his jacket round me and began rubbing my arms to warm them up.
‘Is that better?’ he asked.
I nodded and smiled. ‘Yeah thanks, you’re a complete gentleman.’
Just then, the taxi drew up. He gallantly opened the door for me and closed it then ran round the other side to get in.
‘I have my moments. Anyway, how’s the whole Mr Writer thing coming along? Are you going to mount a search for him or use him in your Valentine’s Day feature?’
I sighed. My eyes stung slightly from the heat in the taxi coupled with Max’s jacket. Research for the wedding had taken up so much of my time that I hadn’t even thought about what my next move would be.
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. I pulled Max’s jacket off and handed it back to him. ‘I suppose I could try and find out who this guy is once and for all. On the one hand, the mystery would finally be solved and maybe I could meet my soulmate. On the other hand, it might all turn out to be someone’s horrible idea of a joke or he’ll be so disappointed when he sees me, warts and all, that he’ll wonder why he bothered in the first place.’
Max’s dark eyes widened with surprise and he put his arm round my shoulders.
‘That won’t happen Ava, trust me. When you and Mr Writer finally meet, he’ll be over the bloody moon with you: why wouldn’t he be? He’s obviously mad about you to have started writing to you again after all this time.’
‘Yeah but he only knows the me he’s been writing letters to. He’s probably built me up to be something I can never live up to. He presumably saw me around uni, maybe spoke to me a few times and decided he liked me so that’s why the letters started. He doesn’t actually know me, not like you or Gwen do. What if he gets to know me, decides I’m not what he thought I was and buggers off? After all, look what happened with Dave. I wasn’t enough for him so he left; simple as that. What’s to stop Mr Writer from thinking the same?’
I felt an odd sense of relief at airing my innermost thoughts on the Mr Writer situation. Somehow, a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I turned my head to Max, who looked deep in thought over what he’d just heard.
He didn’t have time to answer me as we drew up to the wedding venue. For some reason, I felt a little cheated that he didn’t produce one of his rousing pep-talks.
Strings of fairy lights greeted us outside The Regency Hotel. They were wound around the metal railings of the bridge leading to the front door and across the glass-and-steel awning that spanned the entire width of the building. They looked beautiful against the indigo star-strewn sky. A slightly gaudy red velvet carpet was draped over the stairs, presumably to give the whole thing a “celebrity” feel.
Max and I approached the burly security guard, who didn’t look especially pleased to see us. After a short conversation with him and a lot of fumbling about for press passes and other identification, he agreed to let us in.
‘They’re in the Markham Suite,’ the guard grunted. ‘First door on the right as you go in.’
Max had been there before and led the way through the cream and gold hallway to a large open room on the right-hand side. I walked in and was instantly transported into a fairy tale. Large bunches of glittery silver twigs were dotted around the room, strings of white fairy lights coiled lovingly around them. A cream runner led the way to a beautiful white arch, lined with red roses. The sixty or so chairs were draped with white cotton sheets and silver ribbons were tied around them. The entire room embodied winter wonderland.
‘Wow, it’s beautiful in here,’ I breathed.
Max and I took our seats at the back of the room while guests filed in for the ceremony. As I watched an array of dresses and suits mill past me, my phone rang.
‘Hello?’ I said when I’d walked out to the hallway.
‘Ava, it’s Miranda here.’ Her voice reminded me of Amira’s; saccharine to the point of nauseating. Paddy was probably in the room.
‘What can I do for you?’ I asked, trying to keep my tone as civil as I could. I hated how she could be nice one minute and nasty the next. She was Sleek’s version of Jekyll and Hyde.
‘I just wanted to check you’d arrived at the ceremony OK. No hiccups, were there?’
‘None.’
‘Good, good to hear that. Listen, the agency photographer who’ll be helping you for this assignment will meet you outside in about… ooh… five minutes. He’s new and it’s his first assignment so try and make sure you’re professional when you greet him, will you?’
Miranda rang off without saying goodbye. I sighed; oh great, just perfect. It was my first shot at wedding reporting and I had to babysit some college graduate who’d probably produce some out-of-focus shots of the couple and some “arty” landscape pictures and walk off with three hundred quid for his trouble. I stormed outside in a huff, but wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted me.
Standing outside under the canopy of fairy lights, looking utterly delectable in a black tuxedo, was possibly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Moonlight sliced his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones, slate-coloured eyes and perfect profile.
He turned to look at me. One stare almost turned me to jelly.
‘Hi, I’m looking for Ava Clements?’ His voice had a soft south London brogue: gentle but a little rough around the edges.
My heart skipped and danced with joy. I’d never been happier to be me.
‘Well you’ve found her,’ I replied with a smile.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_418aa707-ab3f-5eb3-ac95-aa989a181395)
The beautiful man stuck out a hand for me to shake. I took it and felt his rough palm beneath mine. He had worker’s hands.
‘Nate Walton, nice to meet you.’ He smiled and revealed two rows of pearly white teeth.
‘Nice to meet you too, a-are you the agency photographer?’ I couldn’t help but trip over my words. He was perfect; everything from his defined arm muscles to his come-get-me eyes was utterly exquisite.
‘I certainly am.’ He picked up the chunky black camera hanging around his neck. ‘I’ve just started with Apex Pictures; we’re going to be sharing an office with your magazine.. I was surprised to get an assignment so quickly actually, considering I’ve just joined.’ He stepped closer to me. ‘So would you be the incredibly sexy journalist I was told to look out for?’
My cheeks began to burn and my gaze dropped to the floor. After a few seconds, I had the nerve to meet his gaze again.
‘Um… I don’t know that I’d use that exact phrase but… yeah, you’re photographing the wedding I’m covering tonight. F-Follow me.’
Smooth Ava, really smooth.
I moved to go back inside and tripped over the red carpet. Nate caught me before I banged my head on the revolving door. His strong arm was wrapped round my waist and for a second it looked like he was going to bend down and kiss me.
‘Falling for me already are you? That didn’t take long.’ He smiled and pulled me upright then went effortlessly through the revolving door.
I stared after him, my heart hammering in my chest. My mouth had gone dry and I had to remind myself to keep breathing.
After I composed myself, I followed him.
The wedding was beautiful and simple; it was the complete opposite of what I’d expected. The bride’s dress was elegant and classic: a white A-line gown with a sweetheart neckline and a layer of tulle on the skirt. The bridal party came down the aisle as a jazz singer gently crooned At Last by Etta James. Giselle and Aaron had written their own vows and, rather than being cheesy and over-sentimental, they were well thought out and sweet. Despite my hatred for weddings, I found myself dabbing my eyes in places. Rather than being gaudy and extravagant, it was a celebration of two people’s love for one another.
Max, Nate and I sat at the back; Nate snapped away happily and chatted to me while I scribbled down notes about the ceremony and Max watched. When I briefly introduced them, they talked for a minute before silence fell. As the happy couple exchanged rings, Nate took a final photo then slung his arm loosely around my shoulders.
‘Ready to go to the reception then?’ he asked with a jovial smile.
Max spun round and looked at us with a quizzical frown on his face. I couldn’t tell if it was what Nate had said that bothered him or the fact he had his arm round me after knowing me for all of five minutes. He really was like a protective older brother sometimes. As I became increasingly aware of how close Nate was to me, I realised I didn’t like him being in my personal space. It had been unoccupied for some time and I liked it that way. Even though Nate was drop-dead gorgeous, that didn’t guarantee him a free pass.
‘Yeah I suppose so. Are you coming as well, Max?’ I shrugged Nate off and went to stand beside him. His shoulders relaxed after that.
‘Certainly am, Munchkin! Lead the way!’ Placing a protective hand on my lower back, Max guided me into the crowd making their way to the reception.
Rather than opting for a sit-down meal, Giselle and Aaron had gone for a luxurious buffet, lovingly prepared by the amazing catering team they’d hired. Plates of vegetable samosas, quiches, mini cheeseburgers and tapas dishes were mixed with profiterole towers and trays of sweet pastries. The whole spread looked delightful.
As everyone pored over the buffet table, I decided to seek out the bride and groom to do the interview before the speeches started. I saw them lingering at the back of the room, drinking champagne and looking blissfully happy. I shook off any lingering nerves and approached them. Nate followed close behind, camera at the ready.
‘Hi there, my name’s Ava Clements. I’m the wedding reporter from Sleek magazine. What an amazing ceremony; I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house!’
‘Thanks, it was our dream day – wasn’t it Mr Henderson?’
Her voice had a soft Liverpudlian lilt, her husband’s name rolling effortlessly off her tongue. She stared at her new husband and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
‘Certainly was, Mrs Henderson,’ he replied.
‘Would you like to do the interview now or after the speeches?’ I asked. ‘The photographer’s here too, so we could get the photos out of the way as well. He’ll probably want one of you cutting the cake…’
I stopped as I saw Giselle’s face contort into a furious scowl.
‘Wait a second, what magazine did you say you were from?’
