The Single Girl’s To-Do List. Lindsey KelkЧитать онлайн книгу.
has been really valuable, I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I want and that now I think we’re ready to move on to the next level.’
‘Babies?’
‘Anal?’
‘Oh my god.’ I pressed my hand to my eyes, hoping they’d have disappeared when I opened them again. But no. Still there. ‘No. To both. But especially Matthew. God.’
Matthew shrugged and took a deep swig of his drink. ‘I’m just saying, if you really want to get his attention …’
‘I don’t think we need to pull out the big guns just yet,’ I said, checking my watch for the millionth time that night. It was almost eleven. Why wasn’t he here yet? He always came to The Phoenix on Paul’s nights. ‘I’m just going to suggest we talk. We’ve been together for five years, we finish each other’s sentences, we’re supposed to be together.’
‘Yeah, because blokes love talking on a Friday night,’ Matthew said to Em, who nodded in agreement.
‘He’s right,’ she agreed. ‘I mean, not about the back-door proposition; although, actually, he’s probably right about that too. Men are weird.’
‘This just makes more sense,’ I replied. ‘Simon isn’t good at planned one-on-one situations. He thinks I’m trying to give him an appraisal. I don’t want him to feel like I’m bullying him into a deep and meaningful, it’s just going to be a “hey, how’s everything?” casual chat during which he will remember how fabulous I am and how much he misses me, then it’s back home for mind-blowing sex and we’re done.’
‘And then he’ll forget all about whatever underlying reasons there are for this break bollocks and you’ll live happily ever after?’ Matthew stared at me and shook his head. ‘Piece of piss, Rach.’
‘I appreciate your input, really,’ I stood up and calculated my route to the bar. A drink would shut them up. It wouldn’t be my problem when Emelie had to pay a fifty-quid taxi-cleaning bill again. ‘Despite one of you being incredibly homosexual and the other not having had a boyfriend for more than two weeks since you broke up with Adam Rothman in Pizza Express three years ago because he finished your fudge sundae while you were in the lav. More wine?’
‘Touchy,’ Matthew drained his glass. ‘And yes.’
‘Well, you look good,’ Em said. ‘I mean, you know, like you’ve tried.’
I tried not to punch her in the face. ‘I have tried.’
‘And you can tell.’ She gave me an encouraging smile, as though she really did think she’d just paid me a compliment.
‘I think what our dear friend is trying to say, is that you look even more amazing than usual,’ Matthew corrected. ‘Seriously, you look great.’
After turning my entire wardrobe out onto my bedroom floor, I’d settled on skinny jeans and a low-cut black vest that were both just tight enough to pass as sexy-tight and not too-many-pies-tight. I hoped.
‘I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but are you sure about tonight?’ he asked. ‘About getting back with Simon and everything?’
Brilliant. We were going to have The Talk. Again. Matthew had been ready to punch Simon in the face ever since the break was agreed upon. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his loyalty, but I really didn’t want it to be weird when we got back together. It’s never fun to be the person that bitched the ex out to high heavens and then the couple gets back together. I should know; I’d been that person on several occasions.
‘We’re not getting back together because we’re not broken up,’ I reminded him. ‘But yes, I am sure about tonight.’
‘We’re just worried about you,’ Emelie said, wearing her best concerned face. ‘You’ve just been so miserable lately.’
I had?
‘And should you really have to be trying so hard?’ Matthew stared before I could interrupt. ‘He should be begging you to take him back after this “on a break” rubbish. Are you sure you wouldn’t be better off maybe making the break a bit more permanent?’
‘I’m sure,’ I said quickly. ‘He’s my boyfriend. We own a flat. We’re going to get married. We’re going to have babies. How many times do we have to go over this?’
‘I just don’t think your soul mate should spend a month in the spare room while he “works things out”.’ Matthew loved his air quotes. ‘I’m not saying you weren’t happy before, but you’re not happy now. Things change, you know, that’s not always bad.’
‘Please don’t start on about soul mates.’ This was my least favourite part of the conversation and we’d had it enough times. Between them, Matthew and Emelie were keeping Clinton’s Cards in business – hopeless romantics the pair of them. ‘And it hasn’t been a month yet, so don’t exaggerate. I don’t have a problem with it so you shouldn’t. He just needed a little bit of time to … you know … just to work stuff out. Isn’t he better than the others?’
‘Yes but honestly, love, the others weren’t up to much,’ Matthew examined his fingernails to avoid looking at me. ‘You don’t have the best taste in men, you know. But I don’t want you to throw yourself after this just because it’s familiar.’
‘Seconded,’ Emelie piped up, clutching an empty wine glass. Going to the bar was definitely going to be the easiest way out of this. ‘Too many people stay with blokes that are past their sell-by date out of habit.’
‘It’s not that at all.’ I stood up and looked around again. No sign. ‘He’s got a good job, he’ll be a great father, he’s not a wanker and I love him. Now who wants what to drink?’
Emelie raised her hand.
Matthew folded his arms. ‘Glad you got to the most important part first. Clearly he’s the one.’
‘If you’d had my parents, you wouldn’t believe in “the one” either,’ I replied. ‘Now, disgusting house white all round?’
I turned on my heel to head for the bar, trying not to lose my temper. There was a reason Matthew was being so unnecessarily emo so I had to let this go. Aside from the fact he was just looking out for me, his ‘soul mate’, Stephen, had left him six months ago for a 24-year-old underwear model and he still wasn’t anywhere near over it. I’d never seen such a messy break-up in my life and pretty much avoided mentioning Steven, models and underwear at all times. Which sort of limited our conversation this evening. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about him, it was just that whenever he did, he went sort of catatonic for a few hours and then I got a phone call three days later to say he’d woken up in Mexico and needed me to feed his cat. Well, that was when he’d had a cat. The joys of being a former trolley dolly who was currently burning through a pretty hefty inheritance. Most people I knew broke up with someone, went out, got drunk and woke up on a night bus in Peckham. Matthew got drunk, went to Heathrow, got on a plane and woke up in Rio. With someone called José. We still didn’t know very much about José but they were Facebook friends, so that was nice.
I twisted and turned through the growing number of bodies on the dance floor and weaselled into position at the bar. I placed my order and turned to look back at my best friends, now gesturing wildly at each other and cackling like witches, harsh words forgotten. They left me exhausted. And I wasn’t quite sure what I’d do without them.
‘All right, sis?’ Paul sidled up beside me, winked at the girl behind the bar and started sipping his pint before I’d even opened my mouth. ‘Emelie’s looking fit tonight.’
‘Don’t bother.’ I ordered the wine and gave him the sternest look I could muster. ‘Aren’t there any other lucky candidates ready to catch whatever you’re passing round this evening?’
‘Oh god, yeah, loads.’ He turned around and leaned against the bar. ‘But