Charlotte Delaney has sworn off men. After one relationship disaster after another- including turning a guy gay!- Charlotte is so over the male species.
Isaac Fletcher had his heart cruelly broken. Yes, it was years ago. No, he never got over it. I...
I got bored! So I wrote an Isaac POV bonus chapter for you all! Enjoy.
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I love my family. Most of the time. Like, sixty-forty in the love-hate ratio. They're absolutely batshit crazy and sometimes I have to wonder if I was swapped at birth or something but they're my family and I love them nonetheless. Except for today. Today, I'm leaning more to hating them. Well, not hating them, just more like disliking them.
After calling to tell them about Lottie's pregnancy, Mum insisted that they all fly half way across the world to have a family get-together. What that really meant, though, is that they were coming over to meet and interrogate Charlotte, figure out if she was Alyssa 2.0 and give us their seal of approval or disapproval, depending on what Mum makes of the woman carrying my child.
They arrived yesterday morning and having given them a day to settle in, it was now time to face the music. I'd made plans to meet them solo first, suss out what their initial thoughts on the situation is before springing their presence on Lottie but seeing as Mum's trip to Harrods trumped everything else, we'd now be facing up to them, going in blind at a family dinner. My parents can be quite overbearing and I knew that they'd already be suspicious of my predicament so I could only imagine what Lottie was about to face.
She sat at my side, fidgeting non-stop as her eyes kept darting to the restaurant door whenever it opened. "Are we early, Isaac?"
"Nope," I answer, looking at the watch on my wrist. The table had been booked for six thirty but as the minute hand moved closer towards seven, I was starting to become nervous. "If they're not here in the next-"
"Isaac!"
The restaurant I'd chosen was quiet, the kind of establishment that you pay way over the odds just for a beer, and certainly not the place where you want your mother to yell out and gain the attention of everyone in the place. Still, that's exactly what she did as she began to walk towards our table, dressed in a leopard print dress with a bright pink coat over her shoulders. I'm not sure why, but my mother has always reminded me of Patsy Stone from Ab Fab; she just has that air about her.
Giving everyone in the vicinity an apologetic smile and shooting a reassuring glance at Lottie, I stand and make my way to Mum, enveloping her in a hug. I haven't seen her in almost a year but I can tell she hasn't changed a bit; she still has the same off-beat fashion sense, the blonde bombshell hair, and the same Chanel No. 5 scent lingered around her. Just like when I was younger.
"Hi, Mum," I say, unable to stop the smile that formed on my lips. When I pulled away, I noted that her face was tauter than usual and there was a slight scar near her hairline, a definite sign that she'd had some work done. "You look, uh, great."
"Thank you, dahl," she beams at me as her thick Aussie accent made me slightly homesick for the first time in a long while. Angling her head in different directions, she gives me a good look at her new face and asks, "Do you like Dad's birthday present to me?"
