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Back Love, Almost Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. EPILOGUE
  48. Acknowledgements
  49. Keep Reading …
  50. About the Author
  51. By the same author:
  52. About the Publisher

If anything, I feel further away from him than I ever thought could be possible.

26

It’s arrived. The big day has finally arrived.

Our Kit stayed at home last night. We watched My Best Friend’s Wedding and drank Prosecco with strawberries. My dad nipped out to get a Chinese takeaway for the four of us: a full-on banquet with prawn crackers and spare ribs, the lot. My mum kept spoiling the film talking on her phone. Everybody was calling her; my nan, Carol, Gareth’s mum. They all kept saying the same thing: it’s tomorrow, can you believe it’s tomorrow, it’s really tomorrow … I didn’t complain, though. She’s been easy on me since I found myself a plus-one for the wedding.

We’ve all woken up this morning with dry mouths from the immense quantities of MSG. We start getting ready, the Spice Girls on full blast, feeling pumped. Even my nan shows up with a smile on her face and a spring in her step.

‘Ready?’ Kit calls from upstairs. ‘I’m coming down!’

In the hallway, my dad puts his arms around me and my mum, and my mum grabs my nan’s hand. The image of Kit standing at the top of the stairs, all Paul Smith-ed and quiffed, is one to cherish. He’s cheeky, he’s calm, he’s fucking beautiful. There’s not a dry eye in the house.

‘The car’s here, son,’ my dad says.

As much as it pains my dad, our Kit won the battle and a traditional wedding car pulls up to take us to the manor house on the Wirral where the wedding is taking place. My dad had originally wanted to pimp his taxis, but even my mum had said no. Her son’s wedding isn’t a business opportunity. A few neighbours stand outside their porches and wave us off. Our Kit winds down the window and gives his best Meghan Markle. My mum’s never looked happier.

‘You still haven’t said who your plus-one is, love,’ she says.

‘He’s just a friend,’ I say, for perhaps the fifth time.

My mum nudges my nan and winks. ‘That’s what they all say!’

Passing a long, manicured garden, we arrive on a gravel driveway. Guests are dotted around the entrance of the manor house, milling about near the wooden double doors. I help my nan out and we leave our Kit in the car. He’s planned to wait for Gareth so they can share a private moment before walking each other down the aisle.

‘We’re practically in Wales,’ my nan says.