Paper Aeroplanes & Other Stories

Daffodils and Daisy Chains

Part Three:

As Steph and my mum fussed around me, I began to question my sanity.

What was I doing?

Was I doing the right thing?

Did I really want to do this?

There was no going back now. Okay, so technically there was; people did back out. They'd even made a film about it, but I was hardly Julia Roberts; her hair's better than mine for a start.

"You look so beautiful," my mum said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

Seriously why did she need to start? She knew how emotional I was. She was going to set me off; and I bet this mascara wasn't even really waterproof, despite what Sonia on the Dior counter at Debenhams had said.

Of course, I hadn't planned on going on another date with Will, but then he'd turned up on my doorstep four days after the first. He'd brought Steph's dress back, and he'd even had it dry cleaned, the receipt was still attached, £8.99 he'd paid for that. And he had daffodils. They were my favourite flowers; I could hardly say no.

Since then we'd only had a handful of dates, well the kind where we got dressed up and went out. But we'd had plenty of other little rendezvous.

And now we were here.

"Your tits look amazing in that dress," Steph said. "He'll be wanting to take you up the aisle in more ways than one," she laughed.

I hoped my mum didn't get the joke, but she too started laughing.

Steph and Matt had been together four years; I'd known Will just over four months, and here we were beating them up the aisle.

How did this even happen? It's not as if there was any indication that he was looking for marriage, but then I wasn't exactly giving off that vibe either. We actually went out to a proper restaurant this one time, and we watched as a guy got down on one knee and asked his girlfriend to marry him. Idiots, we'd both agreed, after she'd said yes. That was probably the only real date we had; I don't think tequila shots in the White Lion while I practically dry humped his leg in the beer garden counted.

The nights he spent at my flat were just sex, a bit of fun is what we'd both agreed.

"No feelings involved," is what he'd said when he threw me onto the bed the night before I left for Sophie's hen do.

Then I went to Magaluf. We met Jack on the first day; he'd pestered us every single day trying to flog us tickets to some foam party, even offering to throw in a free kiss, as if that would persuade us. But I couldn't face the thought of snogging Jack, with his stupid dimples and sleeve tattoo and those super tight Ralph Lauren shorts he wore. That was when I realised that I was in love.

I Elsie-Rae Cooper, was in love with William - whatever his middle name was - Lewis.

And I needed to tell him. I just needed to get the timing right this wasn't something I could blurt out in the middle of one of our heavy makeout sessions, but as usual, things didn't go to plan.

It was July, and we were in the park we'd gone under the pretence of having a picnic, what that really meant was we were laying on a blanket in the sun, drinking cheap cider and smoking weed.

"Do ya wanna get married?" Will had jokingly asked, holding out a daisy chain ring.

"Fuck yes!" I'd said, sitting up too quick, making me feel light headed, and then shit the next thing I knew I was throwing up all over my new genuine, fake Mulberry bag I'd got in Magaluf.

"You're such a knob . . ." he'd said as he wiped the sick from my face with the napkin from his Subway, ". . . and, I guess, that's why I kind of, maybe love you."

And then he kissed me. That was how I knew he meant it when he said he loved me. He didn't even care that I'd just been sick.

I don't really know what happened in those few weeks between that day and this one; I imagine it included lots of sex and shots because that was what we did best. Somehow along the line the engagement became official; he spent a whole month's wages on a ring and spent the whole of August skint.

My parents tried to talk me out of it, said that we had plenty of time to get married, apparently we were rushing things. But a surprise engagement wouldn't be the biggest shock they'd get this year.

I could see him; Will, stood at the altar he turned around and looked as terrified as I felt. My stomach was churning, and I thought I might be sick, again. He was only about twenty steps in front of me, but it would only take two steps backwards to be outside again and call the whole thing off.

"Are you ready love?" my dad asked as he linked his arm through mine.

Was I ready? No, I was far from ready, but this was happening. I was getting married.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed this three-part short story.

Want to know if Elsie-Rae got her happy ever after?
You can find out in my new story, 'The Diary of Elsie-Rae' on my profile.