Nothing New for Sophie Drew: a heart-warming romantic comedy, Katey Lovell [booksvooks .txt] 📗

I spouted my pre-prepared lines about how the kiss with Darius hadn’t been planned and how it had only happened because I’d been vulnerable and upset about Fred, but even to my ears they sounded like something from a low-budget soap opera.

“And it had to be him, of all people,” Max continued, all but spitting the words. “My brother, Chris, knows him. They’ve got some friends in common, what with them working in the same field. In fact, Chris’s business partner is with Darius right now. In Vegas. They flew out yesterday for Johnny’s stag.”

He turned to look at me and the harsh motorway lights reflected his eyes. They looked steely and cold.

“Darius isn’t going on the stag do.” I was talking slowly, but still tripping up over the words. My mouth was bone dry. “He told me at the festival. He’s giving the money he was planning to use to pay for the trip to his ex, instead – for his daughter.”

“He’s in Vegas now,” Max insisted. “The photos are all over Facebook.”

I instinctively reached for my phone before remembering Darius and I were no longer connected on social media. But me and Johnny were…

I clicked on Johnny’s account, scrolling past his profile picture and personal information. And sure enough, group photos from the stag do confronted me, eight inebriated men standing in front of the iconic “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign. And right at the centre of the group, posing next to the groom-to-be, was Darius.

Bile rose in my throat as the penny dropped. For the second time in less than a week I felt trapped in an excruciating situation. I wanted to jump out of the car. I would have, if we hadn’t been doing seventy miles an hour on the motorway.

“Seen it for yourself, have you?”

“He told me he had no money,” I said, my voice barely audible. “I gave him some. It was supposed to be for Summer.”

“I know. Everyone in Newcastle knows. He’s been bragging to the lads about how he’s still got you wrapped around his little finger, and you know how fast gossip spreads. Chris told me, and I messaged you straight away. I thought you had a right to know.”

“He wouldn’t spend money like that on the stag do,” I said, as much to convince myself as Max. “His daughter’s mother is blackmailing him, threatening to move Summer to the other end of the country unless he gives her more money. He’s struggling, because he already gives her more than half his wages.”

“He’s obviously not that hard up, if he can afford to fly out to Vegas. They’re going to the big fight at the MGM Grand too, apparently. Tickets for that must have cost a fortune. Not exactly the actions of someone who’s trying to save every penny to keep their daughter close. I’m not saying this to be a bastard. It’s not revenge.” Max’s voice cracked. “I just think you deserve to know what he’s really like.”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” I replied, although I couldn’t for the life of me think of one. “There has to be.”

“And you’re still defending him.” Max slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. “I guess that kiss at the festival wasn’t as meaningless as you’ve been trying to make out after all.”

The lights of my hometown twinkled in the distance like a blanket of stars. “I’ll drop Tawna and Eve off first. You’ll need to give me directions.” His voice dropped, quiet and throaty. “And then I’ll take you home.”

Chapter 26

Funerals are never pleasant but, although I was surrounded by people I knew, I felt more alone than ever as I sat in the crematorium. Max had been replying to my texts, but only with a few short words saying he wasn’t ready to talk, and although he’d been back from America for a week Darius hadn’t replied to my messages. Tawna and Eve were busy with their own lives after our New York jaunt. Scrat Cat was my closest friend, that’s how sad my life was.

Mum sat beside me for the memorial service, and I knew she was fighting with her emotions from the way she was searching through her handbag for a tissue. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from Norma, dressed head to toe in black, sat at the front of the room with Bri, his wife and other members of their family. She was so strong.

I was proud of myself for holding it together through the eulogy, taking long deep breaths to stave off tears. I managed not to cry as Norma shared the story of when she had met Fred, and how he’d wooed her with a bar of Fry’s Turkish Delight.

What happened next caught me unawares.

“And now,” said the celebrant, “at Fred’s own request, we’re going to play a song that meant a lot to him.”

As the wine-red curtains closed around Fred’s coffin, the opening bars of “Going Home” started to play. And that was when I openly sobbed my heart out for our very own local hero.

“I’m sorry for taking your last tissue,” I said to Mum, as we stood reading the cards on the array of floral tributes. “That song just got to me.”

“I know, love. I know.” She pulled me into a hug. “Your dad had a tear in his eye too.”

“It won’t be the same at the ground without him there,” I said, as an awful thought struck me. “And who’s Norma going to sit with on match days now? Who’s she going to palm her sweets off onto if Fred’s not there?”

“She’ll have your Dad and Bez, and Finley and Joel,” Mum said. “Or maybe she’ll move her seat and sit with Bri.”

“Maybe,” I said, although I couldn’t see her switching to the side stand. The Gallowgate was where Norma belonged, right at the heart of the supporters.

We went to pass on our sympathies to the family mourners, even though we’d already made our