Lucie’s Vintage Cupcake Company

‘Oh, come on, Sofia,’ said Antonio, appearing from the kitchen to sling his arm around Sofia’s neck. ‘Even you have to admit what Lucie’s got planned is romantic! Just because you’re married to your career doesn’t mean you can deny Lucie a little romance in her life.’

‘A little romance? The scene of this forthcoming proposal wouldn’t be out of place in a lavish Hollywood rom-com production. She’s booked Tiffany’s, for God’s sake! Please, Lucie. I know you think I’m being a killjoy. If you have truly found your soulmate, then I’m happy for you. Alex is a great guy. He’s handsome, funny, a talented corporate lawyer and one of the most passionate Chelsea supporters I’ve ever had the pleasure to be acquainted with. I understand that you’ve been dating for ages but you know he’s focusing on his career at the moment, wants to make partner before he’s thirty. Why not wait until his partnership is confirmed at the board meeting in April and have a dual celebration?’

Lucie smiled. Alex often dropped into the conversation his goal of gaining a partnership at Carter & Mayhew by the time he reached his milestone birthday. She’d nod her reassurance that she had no doubt he would achieve his ambition, before adding her own dream of being at the helm of her own restaurant or running her own catering business. He’d usually pat her arm indulgently whenever she said this, fluff up her curls and tell her they should be working on squeezing out every ounce of enjoyment their lifestyle in the capital afforded them.

‘You’re a good friend, Sofia, and I cherish your support and advice. But I love Alex. I want to marry him whether he’s a partner at Carter & Mayhew or not. It doesn’t matter to me whether he’s a top corporate lawyer or a lowly legal clerk. All I know is that we are destined to be together. So why shouldn’t I propose? This is the twenty-first century you know!’

Lucie checked her watch. She didn’t want to be late. She had even booked a taxi to take her over to Sloane Street where the most fabulous store in London awaited her arrival. Excitement bubbled through her veins and she shivered with exhilaration at the thought that, in less than an hour’s time, she would be an engaged woman.

‘I wish you’d let us come along to witness the proposal of the decade,’ lamented Antonio with a glint of mischief in his espresso eyes. ‘We could take a few photos, record the perfect moment on our phones so you can play it all back for your grandchildren.’

She smiled at him as she straightened the scarlet belted dress she’d splashed out on for the occasion. She had completed her outfit with a pair of Louboutins Sofia had loaned her, which her friend usually housed in a specially purchased glass case like a prized museum artefact in her bedroom. She had so many pairs of gorgeous stilettos, Lucie was surprised she didn’t sell tickets to a gallery viewing. However, the shoes were performing their designated role perfectly and delivered a whoosh of much-needed confidence. She scrabbled around in the dark depths of her handbag and produced a comb to tease a couple of recalcitrant curls back into place and finished off with a spritz of hairspray.

‘Okay, here’s my cab. How do I look?’

‘Stunning, caramia. I’d marry you!’ smirked Antonio. ‘Now, off you go and enjoy every moment. Take no notice of Miss Sceptical over there. She’s just jealous that she has no time to date, unless you include her suspiciously close relationship with her iPhone. Is there a male version of Siri?’

She hooked her handbag over her shoulder, pushed open the heavy glass door and stepped out onto the glistening pavement. She briefly wondered if the sudden downpour was an omen, but discarded the thought. It was late February – she could hardly expect the sun to be cracking the flagstones.

She checked her watch again. Thirty minutes and she’d be a fiancée. As the cab laced its way through the rain-splattered London streets to Sloane Street, the wipers flicking away the onslaught of water droplets, her thoughts meandered to the black onyx signet ring waiting patiently in its little turquoise box at Tiffany’s to make its debut into the world.

She had been planning the big proposal since the first of January – eight weeks ago. If she was entirely honest with herself – and Sofia and Antonio made sure of that – she’d thought Alex might have proposed to her on New Year’s Eve at his boss’s party in Pimlico. It had been an elegant affair – not the usual New Year’s bash she was used to, which involved copious amounts of alcohol, loud and boisterous singing and wild dancing. Greg Parker was a partner at Carter & Mayhew and someone Alex was desperate to emulate. He had everything Alex aspired to achieve – the partnership, the professional respect of his peers as a corporate tax lawyer, a glamourous wife, a beautiful, if somewhat soulless, home, and the pièce de résistance as far as Alex was concerned, the vintage MGB GT. But Alex hadn’t produced the coveted ring.

Then there had been a moment on Valentine’s Day when she’d thought Alex was preparing to go down on one knee, but he’d just been collecting his napkin from under the table. She had crushed her disappointment and only briefly mourned the opportunity missed. She loved living with Alex but being his wife would be the icing on the cake. She had lots of plans afoot for their life together, which began with the imminent proposal. A tickle of nerves mingled with a thrill of anticipation in her empty stomach, but her overwhelming emotion was one of excitement and certainty that, despite Sofia’s counsel, she was doing the right thing. She could envisage her future stretched out before her, clear and arrow-straight.

Of course, Sofia and Antonio – and her best friends Steph and Hollie – knew every tiny detail of her intended proposal. But she had also taken Yolande Parker, Alex’s boss’s wife, into her confidence. Yolande had been happy to organise things so that, after work, instead of Greg and Alex going straight to their preferred watering hole for the pre-weekend moan about the various fortunes of their football teams, Greg would ensure they left the office at a reasonable time and guide Alex as innocently as possible to the jewellery store. Alex did not have the tiniest inkling of what was about to happen. It was going to be a total surprise, she knew it.

As the taxi wound its way through the urban jungle, the rain intensified. It definitely hadn’t been part of her plan to arrive at the door of the most iconic of jewellers looking like she’d been dragged backwards through a car wash. She dug deep into her handbag and extracted an ancient black brolly that was peppered with glitter nail varnish and, strangely, a boiled sweet. Nerves started to smother her excitement. The speech she had prepared ran through her mind like a ticker tape stuck on permanent replay so that now it sounded like complete gibberish.

Panic joined her anxiety and together they gnawed at the edges of her heart. Maybe Sofia was right – her dash to propose would turn out to be a fool’s errand. She hadn’t paused for a moment to consider the possibility that Alex would not be as enthusiastic as she was about settling down. But she quashed her doubts. One thing she was certain of was that he loved her just as much as she loved him. And that, after all, was the only thing that mattered. He was her soulmate, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She intended to try her damnedest to make him the happiest man in London.

‘Just here okay, darling?’

The handsome façade of Tiffany’s Sloane Street branch reared up in front of her. As the taxi drew to the kerb her raging heartbeat subsided and a ripple of confidence began to wash through her veins. Tiffany’s was not only the most wonderful jewellery store in the world but the place where she and Alex had first met, next to a display of the store’s iconic silver heart necklaces that she had been dithering over for her mother’s sixtieth birthday present from her and Jess. It turned out Alex’s mother would also turn sixty within days and had coveted a Tiffany necklace since her teens. They had bonded over the thrilling selection process and left with not only a little turquoise box tied with white ribbon each, but each other’s telephone numbers. The rest, as they say, was history.

With anticipation and happiness coursing through her veins like ribbons of electricity, she paid the driver and jumped down from the cab. All thought, apart from the approaching moment when she would stare into Alex’s soft pewter eyes and declare her undying love for him, was superfluous. Even the spiral of jitters she’d experienced on the ride over had unravelled and calmed.

She spotted Yolande loitering behind one of the sculpted bay trees at Tiffany’s front door, leaning under the canopy at a precarious angle to prevent her up-do from spoiling. Beyond the glass door she could see the shop’s manager, Brett Coulson – an immaculately besuited George Clooney lookalike who had become one of her best friends over the last few weeks. She knew everything would be arranged to perfection.

Then she caught sight of Alex, sauntering down the street with Greg, so deep in conversation with his boss that he didn’t notice her slip into the entrance portico of the most sumptuous, elegant jewellery store in the world.

Lucie threw Yolande a swift smile. ‘Can you stall them for a few minutes while I make sure everything is ready?’

‘No problem. You look wonderful, by the way. Good luck,’ she whispered before whizzing round the corner to meet Greg and Alex. ‘Hey, there you are! I must show you the charm bracelet that’s on my birthday wish list, Greg.’

Lucie pressed open the door and stepped into the hushed ambience of her personal idea of paradise. It was a true fantasyland of baubles. Everything sparkled and twinkled under the fluorescent lights – each gem a star in its own galaxy waiting for the opportunity to make someone’s dreams come true.

Who didn’t want to own a magic bean from Tiffany’s? Just a glimpse of the little turquoise box sent a frisson of excitement through any lucky recipient’s veins and today it was to be her turn. Well, actually, Alex would be the one receiving the gift of true love – accompanied by a black onyx signet ring – but she’d figured that once he’d accepted her proposal they could spend the rest of their allotted time drooling over the myriad princess-cut solitaires nestling against their velvet trays. She fully intended to enjoy every minute of the half hour’s grace Brett and his staff had offered to her after closing the doors to the public so she could issue her proposal on the exact spot she had first met her fiancé-to-be.

‘Thanks again for agreeing to do this for us, Brett.’

‘Everything is as you directed, Miss Bradshaw. We are excited that you chose Tiffany’s to be part of your history.’ The manager offered her a smile so dazzling it could have graced a toothpaste ad.

The ring was ready, waiting in its presentation case on the counter in the middle of the room. Brett, immaculate, composed and loitering with his hands crossed at his waist and a pleasant smile playing on his lips, was ready. The MP3 player was poised to be switched on as she went down on one knee. She glanced around the store, drew in a deep, steadying breath, relishing the aroma of glass polish and happiness that pervaded the air, and she knew she was ready. She swallowed down on the lump lodged in her throat and scolded the weakness in her knees. Her heart hammered a concerto of joy against her ribcage, her fingers trembling slightly as she fiddled with the ring box.

This was it! The beginning of the rest of her life.

And here was Alex; his hands shoved into his trouser pockets, bewilderment written across his handsome features. Two years they had been together; surely she should be familiar by now with his glow of charisma, the way his presence could expand into every corner of the room. At six-foot-tall, sartorial elegance was a breeze to him. He looked fabulous in anything and everything, but tonight, in his Paul Smith business suit, he looked amazing – especially as he’d chosen to team it with a pale-pink Jermyn Street shirt with the silver Tiffany cufflinks she’d bought him for Christmas just visible at his wrists. His pale grey eyes were at that moment resting on her, accompanied by a comedic quizzical expression, the corners of his lips stretched ever so slightly to produce a matching pair of dimples that bracketed his mouth.

‘Lucie? What are you doing here?’ Alex blurted. He spun his head round to where Greg and Yolande had followed him into the store and lingered, hand-in-hand, mesmerised by the unfolding scene.

Lucie swallowed again, gulped in a lungful of air and closed the distance between them. She took both his hands into hers and looked straight into his eyes, breathing in a waft of his woody cologne, her heart ballooning with love for this gorgeous man who stood in front of her suffused with confusion.

‘Alex, you know that I love you more than anything else in the world, don’t you?’

Alex tossed a glance over to Brett and his assistant who stood shoulder to shoulder to his right, smiles fixed on their faces. ‘Ye… es, I do… but…’

‘And you remember that this is the Tiffany store where we first met picking out a piece of jewellery for our mothers’ sixtieth birthdays?’

‘Yes, I know all that, Lucie, but why are we…?’

‘I truly believe that at that precise moment the director of fate manoeuvred our destinies into alignment and we were meant to be together.’

Lucie pulled Alex over to the counter and picked up the velvet box. She paused to scrutinise his face before flicking open the lid. Alex’s eyes slipped from hers, down to the ring and then back up again, his pale-pink lips parting slightly and then closing. The cute dimples had vanished.

‘Lucie…’

Lucie slowly lowered herself down onto one knee and stared deep into his silver eyes, trying to send him a silent message filled with the extent of her adoration.

‘Alexander James Morgan… I love you with all of my heart and soul. Will you marry me?’

Chapter Two (#ulink_abe22d1b-919c-5dd5-a54e-aca3405ad82b)

Silence spread into every corner of the room and reverberated back into her ears. She wobbled on her knee as Alex let go of her hand and averted his eyes, his mouth twisting in discomfort. He ran his fingertips through his blond quiff and they came to rest on his lips. They were shaking. She’d never seen cool, calm, controlled Alex look so uncomfortable.

What was happening? a small voice in her head queried.

She shot a glance over Alex’s shoulder to Yolande. Only when she saw the smile drain from her lips and her cheeks acquire a faintly reddening hue did the answer came crashing down around her like a shower of ice. Her stomach dropped like a slab of concrete down a well and raced back up to lodge painfully in her throat. She opened her mouth to say something but a strange croaking sound was all she could manage.

‘Alex?’

‘Mmm…?’

‘Alex, say something.’

‘Erm… let me help you up.’ He reached for her arm and drew her to standing, but let go of her immediately, as though touching her skin had scalded his flesh. He slotted his hands into his suit pockets and began to flap his elbows, a sure sign he was mortified and keen to extricate himself from the awkward situation as quickly as possible.

‘Alex, I’ve just asked you to marry me. This is the part where you hug me, kiss me and tell me how excited you are! Aren’t you even going to answer me?’