Practice Makes Perfect (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 13

I actually quite like my job.

I mean, if I ever hit it lucky in the Euromillions draw, I'd be out of there like a shot, don't get me wrong - but while I still need a living wage and all that, it's more than bearable.

That doesn't really sound like I'm talking it up, I realise. But my company treats us pretty well. A decent amount of annual leave, a competitive salary (I sound like a job advert, don't I?). We have flexible hours. We don't have too much pressure piled upon us. I mostly don't take my work, or thoughts of my work, home with me.

I really can't complain.

"Abby, do you have a minute?" My teammate Sophie trundles her office chair over to my desk. It's probably about the wedding. It's always about the wedding. She's been talking about it non-stop for months. She's not quite tipped into Bridezilla territory yet, but I believe she's veered pretty close at some points. The big day is only two weeks away now, so I'll be glad when it's over.

I'm not really a massive fan of weddings. Well, actually, that's not strictly true. I like the ceremony part; I like the love. Like Katherine Heigl's character in 27 Dresses, I like to watch the groom watching the bride walk up the aisle. Watch the delight on his face.

Wonder if I'll ever have someone look at me like that.

I usually have a bit of a cry at that point. Luckily, at weddings, you can usually get away with that sort of behaviour.

It tends to go downhill after that for me.

Being I'm forced to stand around for what seems like hours, waiting for the meal. Where I'm usually seated with a bunch of strangers and required to make inane small talk. And it always feels like every other wedding guest is already in possession of a Happy Ever After.

Of course, the weddings in my life almost always inevitably coincide with me being single.

I'd actually been looking forward to Sophie's wedding because, for once, I was in a happy couple. It would be so much better with Declan by my side, an altogether different experience.

Sadly, when I had finally received the pretty cream and gold invite, I didn't have a plus one. Apologetically, Sophie had explained she would have included our partners if she could; but of course we all understood the limitations of a wedding budget, and realised it was actually an honour to even be asked at all. This was all fair enough - and as Sophie knew Declan from his brief temping stint, she'd issued him with an evening guest invite. As it turned out, he couldn't make it anyway. Which I guess is something to be relieved about.

"Of course! What's up?" I ask Sophie now.

She has her sympathetic face on, big brown eyes emoting away at me. Soph claims she's an empath, and that she has been very much affected by my misery over the past few weeks. Talk about making a person feel guilty! "It's about my wedding." She winces as she says that. As if she fears even the very mention of that word will cause me to fall apart.