Holiday with the Best Man

Given that she’d resigned herself to having to keep looking for a job, she was thrilled by the news. She texted Bella swiftly.

Got the job. Celebrate when you get back. Love you lots. x

And then she called her parents.

‘Oh, darling, that’s wonderful,’ her mother said. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’

‘Can I take you and Dad out to dinner tonight to celebrate?’ she asked.

‘That’s so lovely of you,’ her mother said, ‘but your dad’s booked us a surprise break and we’re heading out to the airport in about ten minutes. But we’ll take you out the day we get back.’

‘OK. That’ll be lovely,’ Grace said, swallowing her disappointment. ‘Hey. I’d better let you go and finish getting ready. Have a great time, and text me to let me know you arrived safely.’

‘We will. Love you, Gracie,’ her mother said. ‘And I’m so proud of you.’

‘Love you, too, Mum,’ Grace said.

She tried calling her three closest friends, just in case any of them might be free to celebrate her news with her, but their phones were all switched through to voicemail. By the time she got back to Docklands, Grace was feeling just a bit flat; she had some seriously good news, but nobody to celebrate with. For the first time since she’d broken up with Howard, she felt really alone.

And it made her question all her decisions. Had she done the right thing in cancelling her wedding? Should she have settled for a man who was kind but made her feel like part of the furniture?

She shook herself. No. Of course not. She’d done the right thing for both of them. She and Howard hadn’t loved each other enough, and eventually they would’ve made each other miserable. She just had to get used to her new life. And she had a new job to look forward to—a challenge to meet. Everything was going to be just fine.

‘Nothing fazes a Faraday girl,’ she reminded herself out loud.

She knew Roland was busy, but texted the news to him anyway. He didn’t reply, and she was cross with herself for being disappointed that he hadn’t even had time to text her back saying ‘congrats’. Talk about being an ungrateful, needy brat. ‘Get a grip,’ she told herself crossly, ‘and stop being so selfish.’

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. A woman stood on the doorstep, holding a gorgeous hand-tied floral arrangement and three helium balloons.

‘Grace Faraday?’ she asked.

Grace blinked. ‘Yes.’

‘These are for you.’ The woman—who looked strangely familiar, even though Grace knew they hadn’t met before—handed her the flowers and balloons. She opened the card to find a message from Roland saying, Well done! Congrats. R x.

‘That’s amazing,’ she said. ‘How can he arrange something as gorgeous as this at such short notice—especially as practically everywhere is shut at this time of night?’

The delivery woman said drily, ‘Because if your sister’s a florist, you can talk her into doing things out of hours.’ She looked Grace straight in the eye. ‘He’s kept you very quiet. I had no idea he was even seeing someone, let alone living with someone.’

This was Roland’s little sister? ‘You’re Philly?’ Grace asked, shocked.

‘Phyllida Devereux of Philly’s Flowers,’ she confirmed.

Now Grace realised why the woman had looked familiar. Because she looked like Roland; she had the same dark eyes and the same gorgeous smile.

And Philly thought that Grace was living with Roland? Oh, help. She needed to do some damage limitation. Fast. ‘We’re not living together. This isn’t what you think.’

Philly tipped her head to one side. ‘Care to try me with an explanation?’

Roland wasn’t here but, from the way he’d spoken about Philly, Grace was pretty sure they were close. ‘Look, if you’re not already on your way somewhere, come in for coffee and I’ll explain.’

‘All right.’ Philly followed her inside.

Grace played for time while she made coffee. ‘Have you eaten yet tonight?’

‘No.’

‘Then, if you’re free, why don’t you stay and have dinner with me?’ She rummaged in the fridge. ‘Do you like gnocchi with tomato and mascarpone sauce? I apologise in advance that it’s shop-bought rather than home-made.’

Philly smiled. ‘It sounds lovely—and Ro never cooks anyway. If I come here, either he orders something in or he makes me cook for us.’