Love... From Both Sides (A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy) (30 page)

‘Shall we go and play in the snow?’ I say to Laura nonchalantly as she tidies away the last of the torn wrapping paper. ‘It looks lovely out there.’

‘That’s a great idea. Let me go and throw some warm clothes on.’

By the time we walk out of the flat and along the path to the garden my heart is pounding.

Is this too quick?

Am I jumping the gun?

What the hell do I do if she said
no
?

Christmas dinner round my parent’s house will be ruined, that’s for certain. Rejection tends to put me off my pigs in blankets.

Laura sits on the small bench in the middle of the snow covered grass. She tilts her head up to the sky and pokes out her tongue, giggling when the fresh falling snow touches it.

Right then all my doubts disappear.

Whether she says yes or not, I know I have to propose.

‘What?’ she asks, seeing my expression.

‘Nothing,’ I mumble as I sit down next to her.

‘What’s the matter, Jamie?’

This is it.

This is the moment.

This is the point where our lives irrevocably change.

‘Laura. I just wanted to ask you…’ I can’t speak. The nerves steal my voice.

Laura takes my hand in hers. ‘Ask me what?’

‘I just wanted to ask you if you’d - ’

‘MITTENS!’

Fuck me!

Laura’s Diary

Monday, December 26th

Truth be told Mum, I had a fair idea Jamie was going to ask me to marry him.

I know we’ve only been together a couple of months but I’m already learning to read his face and body language. I know when he’s worried. In the lead up to Christmas he seemed particularly fraught and I knew it had something to do with me.

I was pretty sure he wasn’t planning on dumping me, so the only other option was right at the other end of the relationship spectrum… so to speak.

I was going to say yes, of course.

I wish I could have told Jamie that to save him fretting so much.

It was evident on Christmas Eve that he was building up to popping the question.

You could tell by the way his little face would crumple into a look of indecision and angst every half an hour or so.

I had no idea what he was planning, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be a grand, rehearsed event. Asking someone to spend the rest of their life with you should be an intimate experience, as far as I’m concerned.

I had to suppress a smile the next morning when Jamie casually suggested we go out into the snowy garden at the back of the flats. It was perfect.

I spent a good ten minutes deciding on what to wear. I figured that’d give him time to rehearse.

Besides, this was a momentous occasion. I wasn’t about to let it pass in a pair of jogging bottoms and a parka coat three sizes too big for me.

I picked out a cute ensemble of blue jeans, blue cashmere sweater and the cream Eskimo coat I’d bought from M&S a week earlier, and went back downstairs to lead my nervous boyfriend out into the crisp winter morning.

Things didn’t go according to plan.

To be fair to Jamie, he managed to control his temper
fairly
well - during what I’m sure we’ll come to refer to as ‘the second Mittens incident’ in the years to come.

He didn’t physically assault anyone, which was a pleasant surprise.

…and I’m sure little Astrid’s Christmas Day wasn’t
completely
ruined by the crazy man next door screaming at her over the garden wall.

I’m also positive she was
delighted
when the same crazy man found Mittens (having spent a good twenty minutes searching in the snow for the little blighter) and delivered the creature back to her doorstep with the greeting ‘
there’s your bloody cat. Lock him inside in the future. Otherwise I’m going to eat the little bastard.
’

It was midday before Jamie had warmed up enough to unwrap himself from the king sized duvet and get off the couch.

He looked miserable.

His planned romantic proposal was ruined and he evidently wasn’t happy about it.

I, on the other hand, was trying my hardest not to laugh my butt off.

By one o’clock I figure it’s time to put him out of his misery…

‘Are you ok, honey?’ I ask and sit down next to him.

‘Yes,’ he lies, face grumpier than a Scotsman in a heat wave.

‘Was there something you wanted to ask me earlier, before Mittens interrupted?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

Oh dear. I’m going to have to salvage this one myself. ‘Jamie?’ I say, grabbing his chin and turning his head to face me. ‘Yes Jamie. I
will
marry you. Nothing would make me happier.’

Several weeks ago I’d been the one slack jawed with surprise, now it was Jamie’s turn.

‘You will?’ he says in a disbelieving voice.

‘Of course I will, you silly sod. You only had to ask.’

‘Mittens wouldn’t let me,’ he snaps, folding his arms across his chest and making a face like a sucked lemon.

I know being doubled over with laughter is not the
typical
way you’re supposed to conclude a successful marriage proposal, but my relationship with Jamie hasn’t really been typical from day one, has it?

So there you go, Mum. I’m engaged!

The ring sits on my finger right now and I have to stop myself looking at it every thirty seconds or so to check it’s really there.

We’re not going to hang around. Jamie’s going to book the wedding in the New Year.

After everything we’ve been through, we reckon it’s best to get the wedding out the way before, as Jamie put it: ‘
the universe notices I’m happy and takes steps to ruin everything
’.

I’m feeling much more optimistic about our prospects. This is very handy I think, as it balances out his pessimism nicely.

I have a feeling this kind of dynamic is going to be the cornerstone of our relationship…

Miss you more than ever right now, Mum. Can’t believe you won’t be here to see me married. I know you’ll be watching though.

Your contented daughter, Laura.

xx

Jamie & Laura’s Honeymoon Blog

Thursday, January 12

Right, I’m starting this.

No doubt Miss McIntyre (sorry, I mean
Mrs Newman)
will
interrupt before long with some inane comment –

Watch it, Newman.

- like that one, but for the minute the floor is mine.

So here we are in the
Caribbean
.

You’ll be entirely unsurprised to learn it’s hot and sunny.

This is causing my British equilibrium to be completely thrown off. It’s January. I should be freezing cold and dressed in thermals right now, not strolling around in a pair of shorts and flip flops.

The locals would probably prefer it. The pasty white complexion of your legs is blinding them.

Quiet, woman.

We have Last Minute.com to thank for our impromptu honeymoon destination.

Who’d have thought you could score two weeks in paradise for less than a grand at this time of year?

Admittedly the building site next door to the hotel isn’t exactly picturesque, but when you’re a freelance copywriter and your newly betrothed runs her own recession hit chocolate business, getting value for money is at a premium.

Thanks to the way the government is throttling our pockets these days it’s a miracle we could afford this at all…

Please don’t start getting political. A vein pops out on your head when you rant about the government. It’s not attractive.

My apologies, I’ll try to curb my natural instincts.

We’re currently sitting by the pool, taking turns to type.

Laura looks quite adorable in her big straw hat and sunglasses. Every time she leans closer to see what I’m typing I get a quick blast of the perfume she’s wearing. It’s a smell I’ll never get tired of.

Why thank you, kind sir. You don’t look so bad yourself – apart from the sunburn. The hat’s on my head for a reason, dummy. And I can easily provide you with the name of my perfume and what excellent shops you can purchase it from.

Gee… thanks, honey.

Get on with it, Newman. It’s getting bloody hot out here and I want a dip in the pool.

Alright, alright…

This is the sum-up of everything that’s happened since Laura was mad enough to say yes to my marriage proposal at Christmas.

It will also be my last entry on this blog for a while. I don’t feel the urge to spill my guts online anymore.

Perhaps this has something to do with the fact I’m happy.

Nauseatingly
happy.

Misery loves company - and
blogging
is really good therapy if you’re having a bad time of it. My life’s been a rollercoaster over the past year, so there have been a lot of good reasons to post.

I’m in a much better frame of mind now, and I don’t want to put you in a diabetic coma from all the saccharine bollocks that’d probably come spewing out of my head if I kept
blogging
.

Oh great. They’re going to blame me for ending the blog now, you idiot!

…it’s his idea to stop, everyone. Believe me!

I agree with what Jamie says though.

My diary’s probably going to get a rest for a while as well. I don’t know where in the universe my poor Mum is these days, but I’m taking up way too much of her time with my problems, when she could be off chatting up Cary Grant somewhere.