two weeks until the twenty-ninth so we need to get our skates on. That means radical plans to make him sit up and take notice of you.’ He leaned back a little and looked at her critically. ‘I know you, Lucy. You’ll be wanting to jump in and plan a massive party culminating with you getting down on one knee. But it’s not enough to plan a speech and a big sweeping gesture of a proposal.’ He paused for effect. ‘For true success you need to get to the bottom of why he doesn’t feel he needs to propose to you himself. If we can do that we can change the way he thinks of you and we’ll be guaranteed a positive outcome.’ He grinned at her across the coffee table.
‘How do we do that?’ She marvelled at how well he knew her. It was almost spooky. One of the options she’d been secretly considering was a party ending in a firework display. Another was hiring a barbershop quartet to sing the proposal to Ed while she looked smugly on awaiting his resounding ‘yes’. Her own enthusiasm could easily overshadow her common sense, which was why Gabriel’s calm perspective was exactly what was needed.
‘We’re going to scrutinise every area of your life,’ he said. ‘Find out why he needs a rocket lit under him to get him to commit. We’ll look at your home life, your social life, your wardrobe, your appearance…’ He sat back again for a moment and looked her up and down appraisingly from the extra distance. His slate-grey eyes looked puffy and sleep-starved, but nothing could detract from the strong jawline and determined mouth. Even when he’s tired he looks gorgeous, she thought. How unfair. And now he’s going to criticise the way I look.
She pushed her fingers through her curls defensively. ‘What’s the matter with my appearance?’ she demanded.
He leaned forward again to pick up his glass. ‘Nothing, sweetie, except that Ed is used to you looking like that. We need to make him see you through fresh eyes and the easiest way to do that is by working on your appearance. I know someone who runs the personal shopping service at Jolly’s in town. Leave it to me.’
‘Right,’ she said dubiously. ‘Because if your intention is to boost my ego, let me tell you you’re falling way short.’
He ignored her. ‘Tell me about your average day.’
‘Weekday or weekend?’ His businesslike attitude was beginning to tug at the edges of her temper. This was her life they were talking about after all, not some legal transaction.
‘Weekday. What do you both do? When do you see each other? How often do you get together?’
‘Wow, twenty questions.’
He simply looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised as if she were a misbehaving toddler, and she spoke quickly before he could admonish her for not taking it seriously. ‘Well, I get up early, of course. Usually about five so I can get to the bakery and sort out the stock for the day. So he rarely stays over on a week-night.’
‘So you don’t see him during the week except in the evening?’
‘Well, no, but he usually rings me every day mid-morning,’ she said brightly. ‘That’s if he’s not in the middle of something at one of the houses.’
Ed was a property developer. Fed up with his job in IT, he’d given it all up three years ago, just before they’d met in fact, and now spent his time buying run-down shacks and doing them up, then selling them on for profit. It wasn’t yet turning out to be the giant money-spinner he always talked it up to be.
Still, early days, she told herself. Give the guy a chance. She liked the fact that he’d thrown himself into building up a business, being his own boss. Taking responsibility for his own success or failure. It was something she could relate to. After all, it had taken her years of hard graft to build up her cake business. They had a lot in common, and that always made for a good, strong relationship, in her opinion.
Gabriel pressed on. ‘And how much does he actually do around the house?’
‘Plenty.’
‘Not good enough. What’s his house like? Imagine you’re married and living together in this lovely flat.’
She glanced around the perfectly tidy room with satisfaction. She loved her little flat, filled with unusual bits and pieces of furniture that she’d picked up in markets and antique shops. Gabriel had always teased her about it, telling her she was ‘nesting’.
‘Imagine you go away on holiday or business for a week,’ he went on. ‘You leave him alone here. Based on what you know of him, what would the place be like when you got back?’
She pulled a face. ‘Well, he’s not that good on his own, to be honest. He’s not really a cook, so he’d probably have lived on pizza and takeaways. The place would most likely look just like his house. A hovel. You’d feel at home in it!’ She dodged as he threw a cushion at her.
‘I’m not that bad!’
‘Your flat is a pigsty, Gabe. Face facts. The only time there’s been any semblance of order was when I stayed with you and that’s only because I can’t live in your kind of squalor.’
‘You’re not doing yourself any favours here, you know.’ He put on a hurt expression. ‘Anyway, we’re talking about Ed, not me. What else?’
She pursed her mouth, considering. ‘There’d be an overload of washing. I’m not sure he knows how to work the machine.’
‘Pathetic!’
‘And the plants would probably be dead. He never remembers to water them.’
He held up a hand to stop her. ‘I think I’ve heard enough. Basically, Lu, and I’m going to be brutal here…’ She looked at him expectantly. He paused dramatically then announced loudly, ‘You have become Ed’s mother.’
Silence for a moment while this sank in and then she exploded. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous! You’re twisting everything. You make it sound like he’s some layabout slob who doesn’t lift a finger while I do everything!’
‘Sounds about right.’
She stood up, feeling irrationally that it might somehow give her the advantage to be taller than him. ‘You’re wrong, Gabriel. We’re just very different people with different priorities. There must be millions, zillions of couples just like us.’
‘I’m sure there are,’ he said with calm amusement. ‘But what you think you have is the traditional “he hunts it, she cooks it” model of relationship. Only trouble is, unless he changes his ways you will hunt it and cook it because, face it, if you get married to Ed, you are going to be the main breadwinner.’
‘That has nothing to do with it!’
‘It has everything to do with it!’
Hands on hips, she glared at him angrily.
He held his hands up in a calm-down gesture. ‘OK, let’s take a different approach. Have you told him about going to the dinner as my date yet?’
‘Yes,’ she said, relaxing a little at the change of tack. She sat down again. Ed had been more than reasonable when she’d asked him. Let’s see you pick holes in that, Gabriel.
‘And what did he say?’
‘He
