Something Borrowed Read Free Page A

for it. I bet you a fiver she’ll mention the Cassidy curse.’
    ‘Such a shame. Neither one of you is settled now.’ Their mother leant back and crossed her arms. ‘Of course, it’s the Cassidy Curse, you know.’
    ‘We know,’ they chorused back. Jenna hissed, ‘You owe me.’
    ‘No chance. It was a no-brainer.’
    ‘Happened to your grandmother. Then me. And look at you two. Not a husband between you.’ With what could only be described as relish Mum looked over to her grand-daughter, knee-deep in building bricks. ‘Not that either one of you is to blame. We’re just unlucky. We need to break it if Evie’s ever going to have a chance at being happy.’
    Chloe collected the plates up. ‘That is, of course, if you believe a woman can only be happy with a man. I, for one, think you can be perfectly happy on your own.’
    ‘And you’re proving that, aren’t you? Being grumpy with clients, moping around, refusing dates…’ Her mum’s tone had turned a little darker. After all, she’d been on her own for nearly thirty years. And they all knew she was lonely, but she’d never admit it. Hence the cruises and the ghost hunting. But she’d stepped over the line when she’d arranged a blind date with one of her friend’s sons.
    ‘Mum, I will not go out with someone you set me up with.’
    ‘He was a good catch.’
    ‘If you like middle-aged, dour funeral directors with more than their fair share of dandruff.’
    Her mum shook her head and tutted. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. You can always invest in medicated shampoo or white suits. Give him a chance. Or why don’t you sign up for that Timber thing on your phone? Maggie says her daughter’s using it to find men.’
    Chloe shot her sister a look that begged her to change the subject, but she wasn’t biting. Traitor. ‘It’s Tinder, and no one uses it for dating, anyway. It’s just for hook-ups.’
    ‘Isn’t that the same thing?’
    ‘No, Mum. It really isn’t.’ She would not go into the literal ins and outs of a dating app with her mother. In a moment of drunken weakness, she’d downloaded it and given it a very brief play. Chloe had been horrified to be rejected by men she’d liked the look of, and had tried not to take it personally. But really? How dare they left-swipe her? It was just rude. ‘Now, please can we not talk about this? How about Jenna? Let’s talk about her love life instead.’
    Jenna looked up from stacking bricks, panic all over her face. ‘Too soon. Really. Just too soon.’
    ‘It’s been over three years, honey.’
    ‘Exactly. Way too soon.’
    Mum rummaged in her sewing basket and brought out some buttons she was covering in the palest pink silk, then sat back with that telltale, self-satisfied look on her face. ‘Then looks like it’s all eyes on you, clever Chloe.’
    Clueless, more like.
    Jenna had started playing another game with Evie. ‘Okay, sweetie, let me think… Oh, I know! I spy with my little eye something beginning with… red. Oh, look, oh…’ Her gaze was fixed on a man walking past the window. Chloe followed her line of vision and then closed her eyes as her gut contorted in panic.
    No.
    Muffled against the wind, he wore a thick, dark grey scarf around his neck and an overcoat pulled up to his ears. All that was visible was a mess of dark hair, as if he’d literally just got out of bed, and an aura of something exotic. ‘Isn’t that… Chloe, come here. Is that Vaughn Brooks?’
    At the mention of his name, Chloe went cold. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been nursing a lump on his head from when he’d hit the church tiles after her rugby tackle. Last thing she’d heard, he’d gone overseas to open one of his restaurants. He had a chain now. London, Manchester and Paris, apparently—which she’d hoped meant she’d never lay eyes on him again.
    She barely afforded a glance out of the window; it was all she could manage as she slunk down on the sofa, hoping against hope he