Read Online The Wedding Diary (Choc Lit) by Margaret James - Free Book Online

man? She hardly knew him, after all. She didn’t fancy him. She didn’t even like him.
    So why did she remember he was tall, and – if he’d been her type, which of course he wasn’t – reasonably good-looking, albeit in a gloomy sort of way?
    What did it matter if he had broad shoulders, if his waist was neat and well-defined, if he had dark, Spanish-looking eyes with long, black lashes – lashes which were wasted on a man?
    Why had she noticed that in the bright spring sunshine his poker-straight dark hair was streaked with red, as if it had been stroked by fire? What was it Fanny Gregory had said, something about red hair being delicious on the right sort of man? She could have had a point.
    Adam might be solemn, but he didn’t look mean or cruel or spiteful – just serious, in fact, and surely being serious was no crime? She was always being told that she was much too serious herself.
    As she mixed some muesli, adding seeds and raisins and banana slices – I must eat healthily, she told herself. I can’t afford to pile on pounds. I still might need to fit into a wedding gown – she was wondering if he had a girlfriend. How did solemn, serious men find girlfriends? Did they advertise on dating sites?
    If they did, how did they sell themselves?
    Almost every man you saw on dating sites made a point of saying he had a sense of humour. But Adam seemed to have no sense of humour. Perhaps he said as much, and added that he didn’t want a sense of humour in his girlfriends either, and serious women only need apply?
    Oh, shut up, you idiot, she thought.
    She was broken-hearted. Surely it had to be obscene, to take an interest in another man while she was broken-hearted? She must forget him and she had to do it now. She had to concentrate on finding Jack and getting him to talk about their future as a couple – that’s if they had a future.
    This Adam Lawley, he was just a sudden crush, a wild infatuation. It often happened, she was sure, especially when a girl had been just been dumped. She’d read about it in a magazine, about the need within us all to fill up psychic voids.
    She must talk to somebody.
    Tess would fit the bill.
    But Tess was worse than useless.
    ‘Of course he isn’t dead, you muppet,’ she retorted, when Cat rang and got her out of bed, wondering aloud if Jack might be in serious trouble, adding what if he hadn’t rung because he’d had a breakdown or a psychological collapse? If he’d been in an accident and was lying unconscious somewhere in intensive care, unclaimed, unknown, unloved, like in that storyline in
Holby City
or was it in
ER
?
    Or if he might be dead?
    ‘Well, he could be,’ Cat said, stung.
    ‘We’d have heard,’ said Tess. ‘It would have been the headlines on the BBC and on Sky News – unknown alternative comedian kicks the bucket. Only the good die young, in any case. So Jack the lad will live to be a hundred.’
    ‘But listen, Tess! What if—’
    ‘Cat, it’s half past six on Sunday morning! Please can we do this some other time?’
    ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise.’
    ‘Why don’t you buy a clock?’
    ‘I’ve said I’m sorry.’
    ‘Okay, apology accepted, now I’m going back to bed.’
    ‘Why, have you got company?’
    ‘Yeah, I might have, Mrs Nosy Parker.’
    ‘Who is it, someone nice?’
    ‘I haven’t quite decided yet,’ said Tess. ‘By the way, what happened when you went to Dorset? I assume that’s where you must have gone? I tried to call you but your phone was off. So did you see the place?’
    ‘Yes, and it was fabulous! The hotel was gorgeous. The gardens were amazing. There was this fantastic marble fountain. It needs a lot of work done on it, but it could be wonderful. Then there’s going to be this awesome health club with saunas, tanning salons, plunge pools – Tess, I’ve got so much to tell you! I—’
    ‘Tell me tomorrow, eh? At this very moment, I have a pot to watch, a fish to fry.’
    ‘A pig who needs a