Coco Pinchard's Big Fat Tipsy Wedding: A Funny Feel-Good Romantic Comedy Read Free Page B

was fine yesterday.  

    Wednesday 17th November   21.56
    TO: [email protected]

    I didn’t call Adam all day. It was his job to call and apologise, or at least explain — but he didn’t. Just as Eastenders was finishing, the doorbell rang. He was stood outside in the rain. I folded my arms and looked at him.  
    ‘Can I come in?’ he said.
    ‘Why should I let you?’  
    ‘It’s pissing down!’ I stood to one side and he dashed in. I took his coat and went upstairs to get him a towel. When I came back, he was sat in the living room. I draped the towel over him and switched off the TV. Silence played through the house accompanied by rain plinking off the roof.  
    ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ I said.
    ‘No. I’m fine.’  
    ‘Did you eat?’
    ‘I’m not hungry.’  
    It felt awkward, like we were strangers. From outside in the back garden there was a loud creaking sound. We looked up and a stream of dead leaves and water began to hurtle past the window followed by a length of guttering. It crashed onto the table and umbrella set on the terrace. I got up and went to the window.
    ‘Shit!’ I said craning my head up to see the damage. Water was now pouring off the roof and straight down the brickwork. ‘It’s gonna cost a fortune to get that fixed… they’re Zinc gutter pipes, do you know how much Zinc costs?’
    Adam just stared. The gutter pipe began to slip off the umbrella and tore through the fabric on its way down to the grass. He jumped up, grabbed the cord to yank down the blinds. One side shot down but the other refused to yield and got into a tangle.
    ‘Let me do it’ I snapped grabbing the cord. ‘You don’t know how.’  
    ‘Maybe I should just give you my balls,’ he said. ‘You can keep them in your desk drawer along with everything else.’
    ‘What does that mean?’ I said turning to him. ‘Is this about me changing your addresses? I’m sorry. I thought you’d be pleased.’  
    Adam carried on staring; he opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it.
    ‘What?’ I said. ‘Spit it out Adam!’
    ‘I need a drink,’ he said. I followed him into the kitchen. He cracked open a beer from the fridge and gulped it down, his eyes watching me over the base of the can.
    ‘I can see you’re stressed… Why not come to New York. It’ll help you relax. I know you can take the time off.’
    He finished the can and chucked it in the bin.  
    ‘Why are you being like this?’ he said. ‘You just don’t give up!’
    ‘Like what? I'm not like anything Adam.’
    However, he was gone, slamming the front door and out into the pouring rain. Just then, there was a rumble of thunder and the power went out. I fumbled in the darkness to my jacket and came out of the front door. The wind and rain wheeled round and smacked me in the face. The streetlights were off too. The four storey terraces closed in from either side of the street, blocking out even the light pollution from the rest of the city. A few cars crept along, illuminating everything from the knees down.  
    When I reached Marylebone High Street, I sheltered in the doorway of a posh Deli. I tried calling him, but got his voicemail. The rain fell harder splattering on the awning above.  
    The power cut appeared to stretch across half of London. I hurried to his flat, past the dark tube station and let myself in with my key.  
    A silhouette of Adam was sat on the living room floor by the bay window, intermittently lit up by the flashes of lightning outside. I heard a tsk as he opened a can of lager and I sat beside him. I reached up and stroked his wet hair. He tilted my chin up and kissed me urgently.  
    ‘You’re beautiful Coco, don't forget that,’ he whispered hoarsely. He put his finger to my lips, and then traced it down my throat. I reached down and slid his wet t-shirt up and over his head. The heat of his muscly chest hit me. I fumbled with his belt as we quickly undressed, and made love on the