Just The Way You Are. Lynsey JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
The beautiful man