Marry Me Tomorrow: The perfect, feel-good read to curl up with in 2017!

‘It’s an insurance policy, that’s all.’ Lydia popped the lid back on her pen and put it in her bag.

Sam leaned his elbows on his knees and looked at Lydia from under his brows. ‘You really don’t need to worry about that, you know. And I’m not some psycho. I’m not going to steal from Emily or wreck her place or get violent or anything like that. The only thing I might do is leave early, because it sounds like a right nightmare to me.’

Lydia smiled and reached for a biscuit. ‘So what’s your story then?’ She waved her biscuit hand at him. ‘How did you end up homeless?’

He laughed. ‘I don’t think I want to tell you that.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s none of your business and it has no bearing on anything here.’

‘Well, it kind of does. If you’re an alcoholic or drug addict. Or if you’re violent.’

‘Lydia, leave it!’ I said. ‘Sam, of course you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.’

Sam squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Look, you have my word that I’m not going to get nasty or steal anything. I’m not that kind of guy.’ He rested his chin on his fist. ‘I drink, but who doesn’t? I don’t do drugs. I smoke when I have the money for fags.’

‘If you stopped smoking you might have more money for food.’

‘Fair point.’ Sam shrugged and scratched the back of his neck.

‘What do you do for food. Beg?’

‘There are places.’

‘Where do you sleep?’

He shrugged. ‘Here and there.’

Lydia curled her lip, unimpressed by the lack of information, and Sam laughed again. ‘I’m just doing Emily a favour,’ he repeated.

‘Yeah and it’s such a hardship for you to live in this lovely warm flat when you’ve been living off the streets,’ Lydia said, sarcastically.

‘I didn’t ask for this. Everything has a price. I said when she asked me that it sounds like a nightmare, and it looks as though I was right.’ He looked pointedly at Lydia and then rose to his feet. ‘I could do with a smoke now, actually. Where’s my coat?’

‘On the hook by the door. You can go out onto the balcony.’ I went to unlock the French doors. Sliding them back, a gust of wind splattered me with cold rain and I screwed up my face. ‘Cor, it’s freezing out there! Rather you than me.’ I stood aside to let Sam pass and slid the doors shut behind him.

Turning to Lydia, I said, ‘I think you ought to go, Lydia.’

‘Charming!’ She looked up and glared at me. ‘Here I am trying to protect you and you’re sending me home.’

‘Yes, but you’re making this whole weird situation even more stressful.’

‘Right.’ Lydia got to her feet, swinging her bag over her shoulder and tossing her hair. ‘I’ll go then. But don’t say I didn’t tell you so when it all goes wrong.’

‘I know.’ I followed her as she flounced towards the door. ‘Thank you for coming. I really do appreciate it.’

‘Hmph.’ Lydia flung the door open and stepped into the hallway.

‘Bye then.’

She went to walk off without looking behind but then suddenly doubled back and grasped my hand. ‘Call me, if you need me. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ I smiled at her, grateful for her concern, and she hugged me before striding off down the hall.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_2cd68ccd-9c0d-55b4-b214-7c136103f564)

Closing the door, I dimmed the lights once more and went back to sit on the sofa. My hands were shaking and I fumbled with the remote control before turning on the TV. I wasn’t bothered about watching anything, I just needed a distraction from the doubts that were now crowding my mind.

What had I done?

Flicking through the channels mindlessly, my eyes kept darting towards the French doors. I could just about see Sam through the glass, leaning on the balcony, staring out at the city lights in the distance. He seemed to stay out there for ages, even when rain started spattering against the glass. With every passing moment, my anxiety increased. What if Lydia was right? What if he was some drug-addled nutcase? I didn’t know him. He was just some guy I saw each day on my way to work. I may as well have invited the bus driver or the coffee vendor or the man in the newsagent. All I had to go on was some imaginary connection between us and a bleeding heart desire to help the homeless.

Oh, and my pathetic urge to please my mother. This was all her fault.

I sipped my tea and waited. What was taking him so long? Surely it didn’t take him that long to smoke a cigarette? Maybe he was having two?

Maybe he was shooting up.

Maybe he was sharpening his knife collection.

The doors slid open and Sam came back in, bringing with him the smell of wind and rain and cigarettes. He stopped and looked around the room.

‘She gone then?’

‘Yes,’ I croaked, my voice embarrassingly crackly. Come back, Lydia. Come back!

He nodded and went to hang up his coat.

Clearing my throat, I took a deep breath and said, ‘I’m sorry about Lydia. She doesn’t mean any harm.’

‘No, it’s fine. She’s looking out for you. That’s what friends are for.’ He sat down in the armchair and reached for his tea. ‘Do you always do ridiculously irresponsible things?’

I looked at him sharply. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well…’ he puffed out his cheeks ‘…I could be all of those things that she said.’

‘I don’t think you are though,’ I said, carefully.

‘But how would you know?’ He frowned across at me, his eyes dark shadows in the low light of the room.

‘I don’t know. But I trust you.’ Even as I said this, my heart was pounding to the beat of no-you-don’t-no-you-don’t-no-you-don’t. But I was desperate to believe it.

He laughed, high and disbelieving. ‘You have no reason to trust me.’

I tried to swallow the anxiety that was now clawing at my throat, but it wasn’t going anywhere. My voice sounded strangulated when I said, ‘I can trust you though. Can’t I?’

‘Yeah, you can. I said so before, didn’t I? I just think this whole thing is crazy and you must be mad to invite someone you don’t know into your home. I could tell you anything and you wouldn’t know.’