The Accidental Honeymoon Read online

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Jack replies, gritting his teeth as though he knows this story doesn’t have a happy ending.

  ‘We had an audience full of people, and it was her scene – without her, the audience was just staring at an empty stage. So I filled it.’

  ‘You’d think she would’ve been pleased,’ Jack says before polishing off another glass of lemonade.

  ‘Well, the problem was that I looked so different, and I knew the audience would notice, so I made a little joke to make light of the situation.’

  ‘Dare I ask?’ Jack laughs.

  ‘It was the scene where she asks the mirror who is the fairest of them all and, obviously, the Queen is supposed to be less attractive than Snow White, but I was Snow White, and my hasty costume change didn’t really hide that. So I ad-libbed about how I’d recently become more attractive, but still wasn’t as attractive as Snow White. The audience roared, but my auntie and Fliss took this as a personal attack on Fliss. They said I thought I was prettier than she was – it was a mess.’

  ‘But that was years ago,’ Jack points out.

  ‘Afterwards, Fliss didn’t speak to me for the whole summer. I went to uni not long after that, so I’ve only seen them at family gatherings since and, I suppose because we were cousins, we didn’t let go of our friendship. But yeah, I think they still hold it against me.’

  We’re interrupted by my mum, who walks out with a plate of cookies and places them down on the blanket we’re lying on.

  ‘Thought you kids might like some biscuits,’ she says – which makes me feel even more like I’m a child and it’s the school holidays.

  ‘Thanks, mum,’ I reply.

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Liz,’ Jack says as he munches a cookie, talking to my mum as though they’ve been friends for thirty years. I suppose it’s nice, that he feels so comfortable around my family. Especially after losing his own; some motherly love will probably do him good.

  ‘Gosh, the two of you make such a lovely couple. I keep thinking about how cute your kids will be,’ my mum gushes.

  ‘OK, Mum. Calm down,’ I laugh awkwardly.

  ‘Come on, you know she’s right,’ Jack says enthusiastically. He sits up and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me down onto the blanket with him. I giggle with glee, but then I quickly remind myself that this is an act. I’m under no illusions about what we’re doing here, but I keep having this, like… emotional reflex. I mean, who wouldn’t want to have a drop-dead-gorgeous man, madly in love with her, rolling around in the sunshine with her while he talks about how cute their kids will be? Not only that, but when he touches me – whether I’m his biggest fan or not – I can’t help but feel something physically for him, when my hand grazes his abs, when I see his biceps flex… Were it not for the fact that I dislike him as a person (and the fact that he’s way more attractive than me and would reject me anyway)… But nope, I mustn’t think like that.

  ‘You excited about dance lessons later?’ my mum asks.

  ‘I get more excited about smear tests,’ I quip. Jack chokes on his cookie a little.

  ‘Georgina Parker, who taught you to be so vulgar?’ my mother asks in disgust.

  Right on cue, my dad sticks his head out of the back bedroom window.

  ‘Liz, where’s the bog roll? I need a royal shit,’ he calls out.

  My mother cringes.

  ‘Probably from him,’ I laugh.

  My mum skulks back inside the house, leaving me and Jack to get back to getting our stories straight.

  A cool breeze blows through my (fake) hair. It’s fleeting, and provides just enough relief from the sweltering heat to make it enjoyable. My tolerance for the sun is quite good, given I’ve been living in LA. Sometimes we see temperatures in the winter that are higher than the UK is here today. I suppose the good news is that I won’t lose my tan while I’m here. I was always so pale growing up, so it’s nice to have a bit of colour all year round now.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ Jack asks.

  ‘Sure,’ I reply as I give in to temptation and grab a cookie. I mean, the chocolate chips will only melt if they’re left sitting here in the sun, right?

  ‘What did your mom mean, when she said you were having an identity crisis?’

  ‘Erm… I suppose, if I’m being completely honest, I changed a lot while I was with John. He so very clearly wanted a neat little woman who wouldn’t cause him any bother, who would put his career first and hang on his arm at lovely parties and chat politely to his fancy friends,’ I rant. ‘So I became that. I rebranded myself, because I loved him and I thought that would make him happy. The last time everyone saw me, I was probably wearing a twinset and about eighty per cent less eyeliner than I am now.’

  ‘I guess I can understand that,’ he replies. ‘But at the same time, you shouldn’t have to change yourself to make sure someone loves you. I mean, no disrespect, but in the end it didn’t help you out much, did it?’

  ‘I guess not,’ I reply softly.

  I brush the grass with the backs of my fingers

  ‘Sorry for bringing it up,’ Jack adds, having realised it’s obviously still a sensitive subject.

  ‘Don’t worry, back to the task at hand,’ I say as brightly as possible. ‘You allergic to anything else I should know about? My mum legitimately thinks I tried to kill you for chocolate.’

  Jack laughs as he rolls onto his side, resting his head on his hand.

  ‘Your mom is great.’

  ‘My mum is a nightmare,’ I reply insistently. ‘But she means well.’

  ‘What was she like when you were growing up?’ he asks curiously.

  Suddenly, I feel terrible for talking badly about my mum, given that Jack would probably give anything to have his back.

  ‘My dad has always been very laid-back but my mum has always been the opposite. She had so many rules and she was hellbent on enforcing them. Sometimes she’d shout so loudly the neighbours’ kids would tidy their rooms. But she was just looking out for us, and she’s always had our best interests at heart. I had everything I wanted growing up – don’t tell her I said that.’

  ‘I won’t,’ he laughs. ‘No, I’m not allergic to anything else. Do you have any allergies?’

  ‘Only dance lessons,’ I joke.

  ‘I think that’s more of an intolerance,’ he replies. ‘I have a question for you, actually.’

  ‘Go for it,’ I reply.

  ‘Who or what is the real Georgina Parker?’

  I pull a puzzled face.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Which you is the real you? You seem to go by many names and you’ve been through many fashion phases – which one is the true you?’

  ‘That’s a deeper question than I was expecting.’ I laugh awkwardly. ‘You say I go by many names like I’m some kind of con woman. My name is Georgina, I like to shorten it to Georgie, but my family have always called me Gigi. And this is the real me, here, right now – apart from the fake fiancé, obviously,’ I babble.

  ‘If you say so,’ he replies.

  ‘Come on, spit it out,’ I insist. ‘Something is clearly on your mind.’

  ‘Well, seems to me like you changed yourself so much in LA that this you, here and now, is a kneejerk reaction to that. You’ve got as far from who you were in LA as possible. Neither of them is the real you – that’s not even your hair.’

  ‘Erm, it is my hair,’ I point out. ‘I paid for it.’

  Jack laughs.

  His constant psychoanalysing is really getting on my nerves.

  ‘Just don’t feel like you need to try so hard,’ he says.

  ‘Well, what about you, huh? You’re a good-looking guy, you clearly have an eye for the ladies. Why is it you’ve never had a girlfriend?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone is going to ask us about that,’ he laughs. ‘No need to get our story straight there.’

  ‘I just wondered, that’s all,’ I say. ‘I mean, come on, look at you. You could get a girlfriend at the drop of a hat.’<
br />
  ‘I could, but I choose not to,’ he says bluntly. ‘Can we move on please?’

  I know they say it’s hard to work out what’s going on inside the minds of men, but with his sunglasses on and his face blank of emotion, Jack is impossible to read right now. One thing I can tell for sure, though, is that he doesn’t appreciate this line of questioning.

  ‘Favourite colour?’ I ask him, swiftly changing the subject.

  ‘My favourite colour is teal,’ he tells me confidently.

  I can’t help but pull a face.

  ‘Teal?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Like a normal person would just say green,’ I point out.

  ‘Well, a normal person would be wrong,’ he replies. ‘What’s your favourite colour?’

  ‘Pink,’ I tell him. ‘Or do I mean fuchsia?’

  I’m pretty sure that’s a shade of pink.

  ‘Are you two talking about what your favourite colours are?’ a voice chimes in. We glance around the garden, but no one is anywhere to be seen. That’s when I look up and notice Howard, sitting in the tree house above the fence.

  ‘Howard,’ I blurt. ‘How long have you been there?’

  ‘Only just got here,’ he says. ‘Just in time to catch your riveting conversation. You don’t know what each other’s favourite colour is?’

  ‘We’re just playing a game,’ I tell him. ‘Kind of an acting exercise I do, where we pretend not to know things about each other.’

  Howard seems satisfied with this answer. He seems far too preoccupied death-staring a hole through Jack’s body.

  ‘Do you always sit in tree houses, listening to other people’s conversations, buddy?’ Jack asks him.

  ‘It’s my garden,’ Howard replies.

  ‘It’s kinda weird,’ Jack adds, getting back to his sunbathing.

  ‘Will we be seeing you at dance lessons later?’ I ask, changing the subject.

  ‘You will,’ he replies. ‘I’d better go get ready.’

  ‘See you later,’ I call after him, as he climbs down the ladder.

  ‘I don’t know who’s more desperate, him or you,’ Jack says, once we hear Howard’s back door close.

  ‘I’m not desperate,’ I snap. ‘Just following my heart.’

  ‘You want to get some satellite navigation for that thing,’ he tells me. ‘I’m not sure it knows where it’s going.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Jerónimo, our dance tutor this morning, is like Strictly Come Dancing meets Full Metal Jacket, as he flits between pro dancer and drill sergeant.

  After taking us through our warm-ups, we’re all standing with our partners, ready to learn the routine. Fliss and Dougie are up front, their parents in couples behind them, and at the back there’s me and Jack, and then Howard, who is paired with Debbie, Fliss’s cousin on her dad’s side, who is also a bridesmaid.

  Jerónimo is dressed exactly as you would expect him to be, in tight-fitting trousers with his silk shirt unbuttoned just a little too low to look cool, showing off his perfectly waxed chest. His tone alternates between smooth and sexy, and shouty, his strong Spanish accent ever present in both.

  ‘Today, we will be learning the waltz,’ Jerónimo announces. ‘Music, please.’

  Etta James’s ‘At Last’ bellows through the speakers of the dance studio – not exactly very twenties, but exactly the kind of thing I expected from Fliss.

  ‘So, first, we need to learn the basic step: the box step. Imagine the top of the box and the bottom of the box. Gentlemen, you will be doing the top of the box. Ladies, you will be doing the bottom – OK?’

  I nod along with everyone else, although I have no idea what he’s talking about. Unwilling to raise my hand and say I don’t get it, I just go with the flow and hope I’ll pick it up at some point.

  Jerónimo, along with his unintroduced but entirely glamorous dance partner, talks us through the forward steps, side steps and backward steps, for both male and female roles. He then demonstrates with his partner.

  ‘You will notice that while I do the top of the box, my partner does the bottom, and vice versa,’ he explains. ‘Now, grab your partner, and we’ll try this together.’

  ‘Here we go again, you with your arms around me,’ Jack teases.

  ‘Leave it out, please,’ I insist under my breath.

  ‘But it’s funny,’ he reminds me.

  Something disastrous happened last night. At some point – while I was sleeping, I hasten to add – I somehow managed to disrupt the stuffed animal barrier, roll over onto my side, and wrap an arm and a leg around Jack.

  If I’m being honest, I woke up so comfortable, I can’t begin to explain it. Then I saw him wide awake, peering down at me as I lay with my head on his bicep, my arm draped across his body and my leg intertwined with his. Since then, he hasn’t let me hear the end of it.

  ‘So, you got the steps down?’ he asks.

  ‘Probably more so than you have, meathead,’ I reply defensively, fairly confident I have no idea what I’m doing.

  As the music plays we all attempt the steps in our couples, and I struggle, big time.

  Next up, Jerónimo teaches us to swing and sway. When I practise with Jack, my timing is all off, causing us to bump crotches awkwardly.

  ‘You doing OK, Georgina?’ my auntie calls over mockingly.

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ I call back. I can’t help but notice that Howard keeps looking over, but other than being faux flirty with Jack, I’m never going to drive him crazy, not with my clumsy dancing.

  ‘Some couples just aren’t very passionate,’ Fliss reasons.

  ‘Yeah, things seem a little stiff between the two of you,’ Dougie points out, clearly still annoyed about Jack kicking his butt at poker last night.

  ‘Now, we’re going to rotate while we do the steps,’ Jerónimo announces, demonstrating with his partner.

  ‘Shit,’ I say under my breath. ‘Jack, I can’t do this, I’m hopeless.’

  Jack exhales deeply.

  ‘OK, look, you can do the box step, just keep nice and light on your feet and let me lead you,’ he says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just trust me, OK.’

  As the music starts up again, I do exactly as Jack has suggested, which is just doing my best to nail the box step without worrying about the other stuff. Suddenly, it’s like a switch has flicked in Jack, as though professional dancer mode has been engaged. With all the skill and poise of a pro, Jack leads me around the dance floor, masking my inability to move in time with his expertise – expertise I had no idea he had.

  ‘You can dance,’ I tell him pointlessly.

  ‘I know,’ he laughs. ‘I had to learn at school.’

  ‘I had to learn trigonometry at school, but I don’t know how to do it now,’ I point out.

  ‘Look, I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it right. And I’m saving your ass right now, so you can’t mock me.’

  ‘Yes, yes!’ Jerónimo bellows. ‘Muy bien. You two are naturals.’

  ‘See,’ Jack points out smugly. ‘And look, Howard is watching.’

  Jack says this in a put-on whiney voice to tease me, but he’s right. Howard is watching, and he looks impressed.

  ‘Damn,’ I hear my cousin blurt. ‘Look at the two of you, putting us all to shame.’

  As the music draws to a close, Jack twirls me under his arm.

  ‘Stunning underarm turn,’ Jerónimo calls out excitedly. ‘Stunning!’

  While I am almost annoyed that Jack is a much better dancer than me, I owe him for saving me from the embarrassing position of being the worst dancer here. I had no idea I was so bad. Now, I’m going to have to see if Jack will give me lessons so I don’t make a complete fool of myself, and he’s going to lord that over me for ever.

  ‘I still think Dougie and I shared more passion in our routine,’ Fliss insists, like a stroppy child. It’s like we’re at her birthday party and I just won pass the parcel.

  ‘Kiss m
e?’ I whisper to Jack. It was my intention to make it sound like a demand, but with our relationship being entirely fake, it feels more like I’m asking him for permission.

  Our lips meet, and for a second we’re just motionless and awkward. Thinking passionate thoughts, I run my hand up the back of Jack’s neck, resting it on his head with his hair between my fingers. Following my lead, Jack effortlessly grabs me by the butt with both hands, raising me off the ground a little, so I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. I feel his lips part and the tip of his tongue gently graze mine, and before I know it, without really thinking about what I’m doing, I am leaning into his kiss. As we kiss passionately, I feel all thoughts of fake engagements, and making people jealous, and the audience around us, just disappearing from my head. All I can think about is this kiss.

  ‘All right, we get it,’ Fliss says, snapping us out of it.

  ‘Class dismissed,’ Jerónimo says, clapping his hands, aiming his applause entirely at me and Jack.

  As Fliss and Dougie walk past us, Jack gives Dougie a slap on the back.

  ‘Things are a little stiff between us now, if you know what I mean,’ he jokes.

  Dougie doesn’t laugh. He just walks away, visibly seething. Dougie has always been the kind of guy who doesn’t like to lose. Losing to Jack at poker will be eating him up inside, because it’s a problem no amount of money can fix.

  ‘Shit, we really had everyone going then,’ I whisper to Jack, once we’re out of earshot.

  Jack gulps down a bottle of water before he replies.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah? Is that it? Come on, that was a phenomenal show. And the Oscar goes to…’ I tease as I walk away.

  Maybe I’m not as bad an actress as I thought because we had everyone convinced with that kiss. It almost convinced me, and I know it was all for show. It was definitely a steamy one – I’ve never shared a kiss like that with John. There’s just one thing that’s bothering me, though… If it was all an act, then why do I feel like I want to do it again?